#perhaps fanfic

[dantooined]

Perhaps

post on ao3

Pairing: Thrawn x Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns used) Word Count: 3.6k Series Rating: Mature (18+ only, minors DO NOT INTERACT) Chapter Summary: Thrawn notices everything, including the way his newest Imperial officer looks at him when she thinks he's not looking - and decides to do something about it. Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, POV Thrawn, xenophilia, no y/n, POV female character, orgasm delay/denial, BDSM, vibrators, voyeurism/public, workplace relationship, light dom/sub, our blue boy is into power play and don't we love him for it

You were pretty sure that time had, somehow, stopped.

Sweat slowly trickled down the back of your neck past your collar, threatening to stain your perfectly starched grey Imperial uniform. The thermoregulators couldn't be malfunctioning since none of your colleagues sitting next to you at the command table seemed to be perspiring like you were. You’d also been in this kriffing meeting for hours, so you wouldn’t be able to pretend like you’d just come from a workout either.

Praying no one would notice, you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible, staring straight at your commander’s blue-skinned face as if this was just another day, just another meeting. Nothing to see here. Nothing to —

“Is there something you’d like to say, lieutenant?” Thrawn suddenly queried, interrupting some moff droning on about last quarter’s numbers.

Your eyes — which were apparently glossed over, damnit— instantly refocused on Thrawn’s piercing red gaze, seemingly beaming straight through you and whatever facade you trying to project. He folded his arms behind him and stared right at you. He knew.

He always knew.

If anyone had been paying attention, they might’ve noticed the room’s apparent background buzz suddenly silenced. One might’ve thought the mild buzzing noise was simply part of the room ambiance, perhaps some monitoring gage simply cycling through. Definitely not something very specifically inside of you, vibrating, and being controlled by the Grand Admiral running this meeting.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, immediately straightening your posture and giving him a curt nod.

The corners of his mouth ever so slightly ticked upwards as he paused for a moment, looking at you, almost baiting you to make the next move. Everyone’s eyes on you, Thrawn secretly pressed a controller hidden in his uniform cufflink to turn your vibrator back on, dialing it up a few notches in an attempt to probably catch you off guard.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you pressed your legs together and bit your tongue. You controlled your breath best you can and stared straight back at him, giving your best impression of a nonplussed Imperial, hoping everyone else in the room would buy it but him. Praying they would all assume the sticky tension in the room was strictly professional, nothing more.

Knowing it was anything but.

The moment passed. Thrawn dipped his head gently and moved on with the meeting’s agenda, deftly guiding the conversation with his usual brilliance and aptitude. You had to admit that you admired him for it. There was no one else like Grand Admiral Thrawn, even if these middle management Imperials couldn’t get over themselves enough to ever admit it. He was special. Incredible, really. Always came out on top, always in charge, always the victor.

This entire situation revolved around that dynamic. You loved it. But today, you wanted to tease the Grand Admiral. Show him that you were more than just a plaything, a pet. Two could play this game, surely. Had anyone ever called Thrawn’s bluff successfully and lived to tell the tale? Something sinful inside of you needed to know. Needed to watch him lose his cool for once.

What would it look like to see his blue skin blush?

—-

When you had first been transferred to The Chimaera, you thought your instant admiration for him was for his clear prowess in the battlefield, incredibly able to calculate and strategize several steps ahead seemingly on the spot. Everyone else was terrified of him, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet, restrained kind of power. You couldn’t help yourself, like a moth to a flame. It should have scared you, how much you were drawn to him - but it never did.

And then, one day, when you were personally tasked with bringing Thrawn a report, his red, glowing eyes locked with yours for the first time … and you felt like you were on fire. A warm, devastating flame that melted your heart into some kind of lava now flowing through your veins. You suddenly knew you would do anything for this man. He knew it too, even then.

Months passed, and you both gravitated more and more towards each other, like two suns irretrievably trapped in orbit. A lingering touch as he passed by your console. A stolen glance as you passed each other in the hallway. Soon, Thrawn requested for you to be on his personal detail, insisting on all non-urgent communications while off-duty being run through you. You thought your heart might explode.

The two of you quickly became familiar, even almost friendly; a tentative bond that only strengthened with more time and experience. You made sure you never let him down. You were always on time, always ready, always prepared.

You’d also convinced yourself that you put your best foot forward because you admired him. But in the middle of the night when you touched yourself thinking about all the ways you wished he would, you knew better. And up until today, even though you’d desperately wanted to, you’d never made a move.

He was a Grand Admiral. You were just a lieutenant. What if you’d been reading this all wrong? You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing whatever this was.

So when he unexpectedly called you into this office before this meeting, you’d slightly panicked. Thrawn never did anything unintentionally, but meeting alone in his office was highly unusual, even for him. And as you briskly walked the ship’s hallways towards his office, you tried to run through every possible scenario or reason for being called in so unexpectedly. Stopping in front of his door, you ran your shaking hands over your hair and pulled down your crisp uniform tightly to make sure you’d at least look at pulled together as possible before going inside.

You held your breath as you opened the door.

—-

Grand Admiral Thrawn was nothing if not always prepared. Always analyzing, always dissecting, always watching. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help that life always seemed so … predictable.

Which is why art had become such a deep fascination: it was expressive, unique, even volatile at times. A true artist knew the rules and knew how to break them. Privately, he liked to think of himself as an artist of sorts, albeit the strategic and militaristic type. Humans rarely appreciated his kind of art, however.

It initially bothered him, but he’d eventually learned to set aside any feelings of unappreciation. He'd told himself that feeling wanted wasn’t practical, and that was that.

But the last few months with his lieutenant had proven unique. There was a warmth, a kind of delicious heat that accompanied so many of their interactions, especially as of late. initially, Thrawn hadn't recognized it for what it was, having practically blinded himself to anything regarding carnal desire. Humans more often than not had exhibited xenophobic tendencies with him, so he forgave himself for his initial misgivings about the matter.

However, it couldn't now be any clearer how his lieutenant felt, and that knowledge set something inside of him aflame. Feeling admired, feeling wanted, feeling appreciated... Thrawn realized a rare opportunity. Perhaps instead of just being an artist… he could also, in a way, be the art.

The idea both thrilled and terrified him, which thrilled him even more.

Thrawn was so used to being the one in power, the one making the call. What would it be like to give in to physical pleasures and just be... desired? He had never done that before.

Curiosity piqued, he rationalized to himself that he could surely still be in control while allowing himself to be admired. After all, how could he call himself a lover of art if he hadn’t done everything he could to fully understand it?

And after months of painstakingly setting the ground for what could be a most fascinating experiment, Thrawn was more than ready to test that theory.

—-

“Hello? … Grand Admiral?” You voiced, tentatively.

A moment, then you heard his familiar timbre call out, “In here, lieutenant.”

Licking your lips and ignoring that fluttering feeling in your chest, you started towards the Grand Admiral, smoothing your uniform nervously while glancing down at your polished boots walking towards the unknown.

As you entered the room, you quickly looked up to address Thrawn. Instantly, your brain short circuited at the immediate image you saw with your mouth agape.

Thrawn had clearly just been sparring with two robots, now standing up from what must have been an intense sparring session based on the sheen of sweat dappling his muscular body.

He wasn’t in his standard Imperial white uniform either, but rather, a black tank that stuck to the ripples of his chest like a second skin. Below, trim grey pants that matched and smartly covered his toned body. His typical sky blue skin was a deeper, more vibrant cerulean, practically glistening in the light. His typically slicked back dark hair was slightly tousled, spare strands hanging down and framing his angular face, making him look ever so slightly undone instead of the typical calm and collected commander. Almost … wild.

He glanced up at you with a gaze so intense you thought you might pass out on the spot.

“Rukh”, Thrawn commanded, instantly turning off the bots and officially ending the spar session.

As he righted himself, you straightened up your posture and tried to look as professional as possible, starkly contrasting Thrawn’s apparently casual approach to this meeting.

“Lieutenant, thank you for coming here so quickly,” he said, chest still heaving gently from the workout. Running his hand through his damp hair absentmindedly, he continued, motioning over to his data pad on his desk. “There’s … something I think you should see.”

You cautiously circled around behind his desk to look at the data pad, only to see a series of videos — of yourself.

Security camera footage of you on your shifts, walking down hallways, even in the mess hall. Your heart racing, you turned to face Thrawn with a quizzical look on your face.

“…Sir?” You queried.

“Tell me what you notice about this footage, lieutenant.” Thrawn responded, now beside you, eyes slightly narrowing as they locked with yours.

Gulping, you turned back to the data pad and looked more closely at the screen. You focused on the top video first, noticing that it was from a meeting only a few days ago, led by Thrawn himself. Scanning to the next video, you saw yourself on deck standing next to Thrawn during a battle presentation. And as you looked at the third video on the data pad where Thrawn walked by you in the mess hall, you gasped.

These weren’t just videos of you. They were videos of you and Thrawn.

And - dank ferrick - you quickly realized exactly what else they had in common.

The footage from the meeting slowly zoomed in on your face as Thrawn went over strategy, clearly picking up the way you chewed your lip watching him. While Thrawn was leading The Chimaera to battle, you were clearly staring at the Grand Admiral with glossy, half-lidded eyes. Kriff, were you rubbing your legs together? You watched in horror as you saw how the security camera caught the way your eyes hungrily flicked down Thrawn’s body as he passed by in the mess hall, only to bite your lip as you watched him walk away.

The air was suddenly too thick to breathe, your uniform collar unbearably stiff. You knew you had it bad for your commander, but had no idea how kriffing obvious it was to anyone who was watching. Panicking, you dropped his data pad on the desk and moved to step back from him, unsure of what you could possibly say to remedy this situation. But before your legs managed to make the first step, Thrawn’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, instantly stilling you.

“Lieutenant,” he said, almost purring, still holding on to you tightly. “I don’t believe I’ve relieved you of duty yet.”

“Y-yes sir,” you stammered. “Of c-course, sir, I didn’t want-“

“Oh, but you did want, lieutenant,” Thrawn coolly interrupted as he turned from his desk to face you, your wrist now helplessly held in front of his expansive chest, your body burning under his assessment.

You felt something stirring in your lower body but impossibly tried to control your features so you didn’t do anything stupid. Like think about how he was still touching you. Or how incredible his chest probably looks right now. Or the glint in his eyes that felt like a double-edged sword right up against your throat.

“I typically prefer my officers to be observant and thoughtful,” Thrawn continued. “But perhaps, for the moment, thinking is not what this situation requires.”

So you just stood there, dumbly, desperately, simply staring at your commander like you were waiting for orders. And maybe you were.

“Lieutenant,” Thrawn continued as he let go of your trembling wrist, hungrily watching it fall next to your thigh. “I believe you to be a fine officer, one who can and has operated with discretion. Someone trustworthy. Do you believe that evaluation to be correct?”

“Yes, sir.” You stammered, heat pooling in your chest. “And it’s been an honor to work more closely with you, sir.”

He lazily drew his eyes back up to your face, grinning, subconsciously reminding you of a loth-wolf stalking its prey. You chewed your lip nervously, not missing how his red eyes immediately darted towards your mouth upon doing so.

“Closely, indeed.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his tongue peek out and wet his lips.

Thrawn then cocked his head at you and slowly moved to your right, continuing to look you up and down as if he were appraising a fine work of art. You stood there with your heart racing, eyes locked ahead, body at full attention.

“You also have an impeccable record and have been a loyal servant to the Empire.”

Thrawn paused behind your shoulder and reached around you, grabbing your chin and tilting it back towards him. “And, subsequently, loyal to me.”

Your face, inches away from his, blushed furiously. “Yes, Grand Admiral,” you breathed.

It’s intense. More intense than it should be.

Thrawn carefully leaned in towards your ear, his breath heating the back of your neck and causing your skin to gooseflesh instantly.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You could practically hear yourself dripping.

“Lieutenant,” Thrawn started, regaining his composure and folding his arms behind him as he started to gently walk around the room. “I brought you in here today to prove a theory of mine. One that I have been holding for months, truly curious what might come of it.”

You nervously watched as the Grand Admiral paced the floor, something you’d seen him do a hundred times during battle. There was something so strong, so compelling about how he owned the room, how he was always three steps ahead of everyone else. But as you watched him now, muscles gently rippling as he moved, stripped of his typical uniform and into something so casual, you thought he’d never looked more powerful. And it thrilled you.

It wasn’t until a few moments later you realized he had stopped talking and was watching you, watching him. Wait, was your mouth open?

You quickly clenched your jaw and shook your head to come back to reality only to see him shoot you a sly smile as he continued.

“The video surveillance was merely a tool to easily show you what I had already noticed. And, seeing you today, so willing … I believe my theory to be correct.”

You gulped. “Willing, sir?”

Thrawn stopped pacing and stared out of the transparisteel viewport on the far side of the room. You could see his red eyes burning in the reflection, their smoldering intensity surpassing the twinkling stars outside.

“Perhaps,” he mused.

—-

“Perhaps,” Thrawn remarked with a wave of his hand, dismissing the captain’s concerns about … wait, what are they talking about? Kriff. You’d been thinking back to how this all started and clearly lost focus in the current meeting.

It didn’t help that you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs by this point. He had clearly been slowly ramping the vibrator up as the meeting progressed, wanting to see how much you could take before one of you broke. If you moved your hips back just a bit, you could probably end this all right now—

You gritted your teeth in frustration. No, you could do this. You were practically panting and squirming so much it was surely distracting the other meeting attendees, but you couldn't think about them right now. Not when you were this worked up and affected. Glancing over at Thrawn, you expected to see him as calm as always. However, you noticed something small that made your entire chest go white hot.

He was clenching his fist. A moff was talking about hyperspace fuel routes and Grand Admiral Thrawn looked as tense as a leader in battle.

He must be just as affected as you were.

Playing with fire, you decided to tempt fate and stick out your chest ever so slightly. This ended up backfiring as your pelvis rocked back and sent pleasant electric shocks up your body nearly taking you over the edge. You were so wet. Your mouth slightly opened and eyelids grew heavy with the new pressure, instantly captivating Thrawn as he immediately looked your way, unable to help himself. You absentmindedly wondered if Chiss men had heightened senses of smell.

In an attempt to rein it all in, you cleared your throat and slowly leaned back, regaining that Imperial stiff upper lip everyone in this room would expect. Thrawn continued to stare at you, a slight purple seeming flushing his cheeks. So that’s what it looks like.

“Pardon me,” you began. “This meeting has unexpectedly gone over and I’m needed elsewhere urgently.”

“I’m afraid I must also join the Lieutenant,” Thrawn immediately added as he scooted his chair back. It seemed as if he was about to stand, but then thought otherwise and remained seated, crossing his legs. “Might you summarize the remainder of your findings so we may conclude this meeting?”

... Wait, why didn’t Thrawn just end the meeting? It took you a moment of frustration until you realized gleefully that he must be unable to stand.

Biting back a smile from this heady realization, you nodded at Thrawn and turned your attention back to the moff, who was clearly planning on berating a lieutenant for interrupting him until Thrawn threw his support behind you. That’s not the only part of Thrawn I want behind me —

As if he could hear your dirty thoughts, Thrawn decided to punish you and turned the vibrator up even higher. You could have screamed in any other circumstance, but your immense need to beat Thrawn at his own game managed to somehow hold it all together. Everything inside of you was whirring around, flowing like hot lava through your veins, pulsing to a rhythm only you and the Grand Admiral could hear. The buzzing seemed so loud; surely even these Imperial dolts were catching on by now, you worried.

You didn’t dare look away and see what Thrawn’s face looked like. It would send you over the edge for sure. Seeing a man with such power and such control being completely undone — by your pleasure — was almost too much to even think about.

You knew this was not how he thought this “exercise in self-control” would go, and you knew he was going to punish you for disobeying him. You hoped he would. Hoped he would take you back to his room and take you in front of that transparisteel viewport in front of all the stars, all the galaxy watching you —

“Lieutenant.” The moff quipped dryly. “Are you well? You seem quite distracted. Surely a matter of this importance is not boring you.”

Snapping back to reality, your eyes focused on their displeased face and tried to think of the first thing to say that wasn’t drenched in the filth that almost fully occupied your mind right now.

“Of course not,” you responded, fidgeting with the hem of your uniform. “I just want to respect the Grand Admiral’s schedule and conclude this meeting as quickly as possible. Do you not share the same goal?”

It was borderline bratty, you knew. You couldn’t help it. Not with this vibrator pulsing inside of you, threatening to undo you at any given moment.

You didn’t even have to look at Thrawn to feel his small smirk spread across his face.

“The Lieutenant is quite right,” Thrawn purred. “Please continue with the meeting, so the rest of the room may be up to speed. Forgive me as I take my leave to attend to other pressing matters.”

The purple blush from his face seemingly cleared, Thrawn stood up decisively and pushed his chair back into the table, turning to leave. You froze, not sure if you were able to leave or were being asked to stay. You weren’t even sure you would be able to physically get up and walk out the door, if you were being honest. Maybe Thrawn had won after all, and he was leaving you here to continue to suffer as a punishment.

The Grand Admiral paused, and looked back over his shoulder. “Are you joining me, Lieutenant?”

In that moment, you knew he would never leave you like that. He needed to watch you, needed to see you suffer for him. Leaving you with a bunch of stuffy middle management to enjoy your suffering? Thrawn was a connoisseur, a patron, a purveyor of the arts. He wasn’t about to let one of his most intriguing artistic endeavors blossom without him. He needed you, needed to enjoy what he’s done to you.

You could suddenly see it in his eyes. The hunger. The appetite. The quiet pleading.

Oh.

The surge of power was almost too delicious to bear. Knowing you were actually the one truly in control, you grinned, wickedly.

“Perhaps,” you quipped.

[lonesome-dreamsss]

his handprint may be burned into your skin but it's still the gentlest touch you've ever received.

[justaz]

arthur being able to feel merlins magic whenever he uses it bc it makes him feel all warm and tingly and at first he's stumped about it and goes to morgana for advice bc hello?? merlin makes him feel weird?? and its only merlin. it only happens when he's around. it's gotta be his fault. and morgana is like "lol nerd you like him" and he's like "oh fuck" bc he has the emotional intelligence of a walnut and begins to notice the warm and fuzzy feeling grows stronger the closer merlin is and is like "welp. im screwed" and then a magic reveal later and arthur notices the feeling happens whenever merlin uses magic and he's like "oh. thank god." and finally realizes the feeling was merlin's magic, not that arthur has feelings for him. it becomes the new norm and then merlin is dressing him for the day and makes a stupid joke before ducking arthur's hand that was going to cuff his ear, he laughs and walked around behind arthur and the warm, fuzzy feeling returns and he's like "stop. no cheating." and merlin is confused and arthur's like "i can feel you using magic, idiot. remember?" and merlin is like "i'm not using magic tho" and arthur scoffs like "alright, sure, whatever you say."

THIS becomes the new norm of merlin and arthur bantering and then arthur accusing him of using magic and merlin insisting that he isn't. then finally the feeling happens when merlin is staring directly at arthur, comforting him in a moment of vulnerability, and arthur can see his eyes remain blue but he feels as he normally does when merlin uses magic. he still accuses merlin of using magic but merlin just rolls his eyes and once again insists that he isn't, arthur can literally see when he uses magic bc his eyes flash gold. did they flash gold just now? hm? did they arthur? arthur then rebuts "then why did i feel all warm and fuzzy?" and merlin blinks thrice before grinning like the cat who caught the canary. he won't tell arthur about his feelings for merlin, he'll let him flounder for a bit. it's always fun to watch him be an idiot and as much as he wants to kiss his stupid face bc finally (finally) his feelings are reciprocated, it's enough for now to know that arthur feels the same. arthur is infuriated that merlin won't tell him. merlin is highly amused at his stupid not yet boyfriend

[pinkeos]

short thoughts of dr ratio with a non talkative reader

he's the “they asked for no pickles” to your hushed “it's fine”

dr ratio himself isn't that talkative but he can be quite the yapper depending on the topic, and he can go along with the flow of any conversation as long as it wasn’t about something dumb

he'd take the role of being your voice when your already limited social battery dwindles, he's so observant that he noticed right away and swiftly excused the both of you, bringing you somewhere you can relax without having to force yourself to talk

but that doesn't mean he'd let you be dependent on him, he'd encourage you to talk to others to at least handle a conversation in case he wasn't around. and he'd be so understanding while helping you, reassuring you that you needn't rush and that slow progress is still progress

dr ratio appreciates how quiet you are sometimes though, especially when he's working or reading. you'd just be around, not making a single sound that sometimes he'd slightly jump when you suddenly appear behind him

on the rare days you talk more than you usually do, he listens attentively. like, he'd encourage you to go on, to ramble as much as you want while he looks at you fondly, proud that you were so comfortable and felt safe around him to actually talk so much

since you weren't as vocal as others, he'd be protective when out in public. there was a time when someone approached you, overwhelming you with their nonsensical yapping but you didn't have it in you to tell them to leave, both from not wanting to engage in conversation and out of politeness. so he did it for you, not bothering with pleasantries and just straight up told them to leave with a slight glare, leaving no room for argument

like my other post, he'd let you recharge through cuddles or whatever else you needed to get your energy back

[dear-ao3]

my apartment is freezing i need someone to come cuddle me

[stylespresleyhearted]

POV: YOU’RE DATING CALLUM TURNER

pt. ✌🏻

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cturnerupdates Cal & Y/N spotted at a cafe in Paris today - March 23, 2024

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fan12 I SHIP IT BUT IM JEALOUS

y/nfan two lovers in the city of love 🥹 fitting ♥️

user23 I’m calling it now these two are gonna be it for each other. They’re end game.

yourinstagram that’s the goal🥹

liked by yourinstagram, austinbutler and 15,713 others

keoghan92 Context: Cal taking his bird away because we were apparently “pissed ” 🙄

Photo credit - me 🫡

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anthonyboyle baftas are always a fun night eh?

yourinstagram he saved your ass, i had you!!!

keoghan92 love I’ll out drink you any day

yourinstagram tbh we weren’t even that drunk

rafflaw you were crying cus you “lost” your boyfriend but he was holding your hand the entire time and barry thought the stalls were narnia entry

keoghan92 that’s a solid night mate

fan23 damn y/n looks good

yourinstagram tits out & every thang 🤗

keoghan92 Oi her heads big enough

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yourinstagram trying to enjoy my lunch but this weird (cute) guy won’t stop bothering me (i love him)

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user12 i need to know what its like to be her

fan23 callum is so down bad for her #relatable

fan21 what did she cover up 👀

yourinstagram lol just cal being cheeky

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yourinstagram hi handsome ♥️

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fan23 THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER 🙌🏼😭😭

user68 i wonder if he’s aware how many photos she takes of him and she posts them all its weird

yourfriendsig lmao trust he’s aware & he’s obsessed when it comes to y/n

fan21 ppl see shit on the internet & think they know everything ugh 😑

yourinstagram guys let’s all be nice and enjoy looking at my beautiful boyfriend! 😍

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jimmyfallonshow Tune in tonight 10/11 CT to witness Callum Turner swoon over ‘amazing’ girlfriend 💕 ….

When asked if he’s aware how iconic she’s become on social media he said he’s well aware and he isn’t at all surprised before divulging to Jimmy “she’s the one.” 💍 👀

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user23 After watching the interview I’m 100% convinced he’s the golden retriever and she’s the black cat. Y/N loves him but gosh … the way he was talking about her and looking at her?

fan13 IMA CRY ITS NOT LETTING ME WATCH SOMEONE SHARE

y/nupdates It starts with Callum sharing a joke and Jimmy didn’t laugh but Y/N did from the crowd 😂 Callum recognized her laugh and said “thanks baby” and then that’s when Jimmy asked about her IG fame. Callum said “she’s the one man - we aren’t worried about that.” When Jimmy asked how they deal with the attention.

user12 starting to wonder if they’re secretly married/engaged

fan31 Nah and I think it’s beautiful even though they’re aware they are it for each other she’s willing to wait and support him as he enters a new kind of fame

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yourinstagram Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy - 🥵

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callumfan Y/N PLSSSSSS I CANNNOOOTTT

user41 girllll yes !!!!

fan53 can i please be you???

user91 ur man is so daddy he’s fire

user33 Y/N and Callum daddy kink confirmed

keoghan92 That’s what we called him on set

yourinstagram back off my man barry

rafflaw … we really did though

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drewbarrymoreshow Hilarious, gorgeous, and kind — yes these guys, but I was referring to the star of tonight’s show Callum Turner’s girlfriend. Her Instagram page is one of my favorite’s, tune in to watch me fan girl over three stars tonight.

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yourinstagram unreal !! i adore you !!❤️❤️

drewbarrymoreshow Text me for our date night 🤗

fan23 everyone loves y/n it’s beautiful to see someone being praised when they’re authentically themselves

user12 shoulda interviewed her too

drewbarrymooreshow 🌚

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yourinstagram Y/N by me (Cal) 💍♥️😍

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fan31 HIS EMOJI USE?!?? rip me

user12 im gonna cry she’s so smol he’s so tol

fan23 Cal make your own page!!! We know it’ll just be Y/N and we’re okay with it!!! It’s what we want tbh !!!

keoghan92 “why the fuck are you taking a photo” is what she was mid saying

user25 omg he probably crushes her she’s tiny it’s great

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yourinstagram 🥹

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fan23 ugh the height difference kills me

user12 they’re so in love it makes me happy

fan33 I believe in love because of them tbh

fan67 idk how he hasn’t popped the question yet

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cturnerupdates Callum spotted with Y/N and his mother in London back in Feb for his birthday. The group had a picnic at the park and Callum’s mother even braided her hair — Feb 19, 2024

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user13 ohhhh he’s gonna be a girl dad fs

fan54 she’s got the momma’s stamp approval it’s gonna happen

user23 what i wouldn’t give to be his gf and have a picnic w him at the park and have his mom braid my hair

fan56 Is anyone gonna talk about how he’s looking at her? 🥹🥹😍 Definition of heart eyes

————

I’m so down bad for this man so I really couldn’t resist making another one. He’s handsome and charming and manly and ughhhhh kill me!

P.S slight FC use of Olivia Dejonge. Not only is she gorgeous but she’s so smol and I find it so beautiful, especially with how large he is. Needed that picture for a specific use to help identify the size difference between the two but feel free to keep imagining whoever. He’s dated Vanessa Kirby and Dua Lipa so the hair color constantly changes in pics 😭

Don’t have a tag list but thanks to everyone for all the love, hope ya’ll enjoy this one as well 💕

[aexiannwack]

Chat, should i start making fiddauthor/billford dating sim? You can play as one of them! I'm planning to make it on Dorian btw, any thoughts?

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Not to skk post on main but that scene from Dead Apple made me insane for I think a slightly different reason than most...

Ok so. Gonna be honest. When I first watched this, the ah... positioning... did not occur to me at all, other than thinking "that looks really uncomfy :/".

I was too focused on what Dazai's hand does here. He first pushes him. Ok so he was trying to stop him from getting up and losing contact due to the fog. Cool. That serves a practical purpose.

But then Chuuya falls unconscious and Dazai's hand loses that contact for a second before he lowers it back down to rest on his head.

The thing is, there's no need for him to do that. Chuuya is already in contact with Dazai's legs and his ability works through clothes. Moreover, it wasn't just a continuation of pushing him down - there's a slight delay before he sets his hand back on his head.

He sets his hand there just because. And, due to the delay/hesitation, it appears to be a conscious choice to do so as well. Chuuya's out. There's no one around to act for.

I watched that and went holy shit that's genuine, isn't it? It's such a simple gesture of fondness, maybe even a bit of protectiveness, but it means a lot from someone as emotionally closed off as Dazai.

It's... weirdly sweet. He appears to have done it after Chuuya lost all his friends (again...) during DHC in the manga adaptation too, which is... :(

And now, with seeing Dazai immediately start playing with Chuuya's hair in the latest Fifteen adaptation, it also doubles as really funny to me. He saw a chance to touch his hair again and took it. What is wrong with this man.

[luna-lovegreat]

So... Warriors

It is obvious by now he's not ok. He's irritable and tense.

I've had thoughts and ideas on this for awhile, so I think now's a good time to speak them. Very important detail at the end.

There are some really big and some small things adding to his stress

The drama with the sword. Wild went against the agreed plan, and lashed out in anger fear for twilights injury. From things Jojo said, Wars is mad about it for a while.

I have said this in other posts, but based on things Jojo has said and some details, I do not think Wild likes wars. He has not really gotten close to him, which adds on to the negativity between them

But Wars... is a captain. This journey is different, and he's doing amazing at setting aside expectations of how to work with rank. But that is still a clear stressor- to him that was unacceptable in battle

^this is one big thing we watched go wrong and has clearly been upsetting since

Another thing is

Wars has been taking on too much. We've seen him break up a fight at the inn, comfort Time (time!), and tell him he'd take care of the others.

Twice he said "let them", and "let him be"-making others have space they needed. He asked Four what was wrong and followed up with helping with smithing.

^^These are all small things. None of these are huge- practically tiny tasks. But they add up- all the attention to others feeling but not his own

... and

Wars has not smiled. Yes, he smiled, but it was not his smile. Since Twilight went injured to the inn, there has only been smiles in a way expected, but not much beyond when he found out his friend wasn't dead. (And when he helped Four at the blacksmiths)

In the updates, I have seen others saying how cool/pretty he looked. Which he did! But emotion wise, I only thought he looked angry. Even when teasing Twilight...

^Not his smile

But here's the biggest thing that I believe is bothering him...

I've wanted to point this out for awhile. The thing is, Wars was really hurt when he found out Twilight didn't tell him about Wolfie

It's small details. A few sentences and facial expressions. But they add up over the chapter, and I don't think he felt trusted or trusting when he found out

He tried to find out who else knew

And why he was one who didn't

*read the blurred words:

"No one said anything to me, I'm just left out of the loop. Who else knows? Just us?"

Wolfie being secret wasn't necessarily about trust, but wars took it personally. He really didn't understand or want to accept that Twilight would have told some of the others but not him...

Wars is distinctly closer to the ones his age, who the younger ones often turn to. And as someone who's been through war, who bonds closest with those he feels he works with best?

Twilight having a major secret he didn't share with Wars, but did with others,

Felt like a knife to the (back?) chest.

And it hurt him

Look at his face when saying "we couldn't do a thing for him". He's looking away, directly after asking four and wild if they knew. I don't think he felt trusted. Or trusting. From thinking someone wasn't who he thought he was, and maybe was closer to others...

^^this is what I think is perhaps the biggest stressor- yet most unnoticeable

Wars never spoke to anyone about his feelings. He pushed it aside and went and helped.

This is ok. Between people so close, anything can be worked out. This is very revealing of how much Wars cares about twilight and the others

As far as Warriors pushing aside his needs and focusing on others... it's hard.

But I can confidently say this: Warriors would never want to not help all he could, when the others needed him

Here's this screenshot that makes me laugh (and somehow sky is just chill with this?)

Wars: oh my god my friend just came back from a wolf what the Hylia who can I even trust I'm having an invisible crisis

Sky: oh yay the sword helped he's back :)

Twilight: I'm fine *currently dying*

Wars is stressed right now. He's taken on too much, he's probably still mad at Champion, and... he feels betrayed (god wars should never have to feel betrayed) and untrusted

Like literally everyone ever others, wars deals with his hurt. Sometimes he can't deal with it alone, and sometimes he can. It will all work out, and I love how much he loves his brothers.

But nothing, I repeat nothing

Will be ok

IF HE DOESNT START WEARING THE DAMN SCARF SOON CMON WE HAVENT SEEN IT IN LIKE TEN UPDATES

PUT ON YOUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SCARF CMON MAN

Ok I'm calm <3

.

Art and comic by Jojo @linkeduniverse :D

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he���s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

[caliphoria17]

SimonDavisBarry: Ok folks, here’s the infamous scene 18 that we never shot. Comes before the running over water scene.

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[justaz]

this got longer than i meant it to so im putting it under the cut

merlin and morgana watching arthur and gwen be The Couple in camelot. they are heartbroken, jealous, and tired- no, exhausted. they've arthur and gwen for years and fell madly and hopelessly in love with them (respectively). however, they care for the both of them and if they’re happy together then merlin and morgana will simply bite their tongue. besides, its not like their feelings are reciprocated so there’s no use in stirring up trouble.

but the pain eats away at them until they are shadows of their previous selves. merlin is quiet and demure while morgana’s lighthearted snark is growing harsher and harsher. it comes to a head when morgana makes a scathing remark to merlin about his feelings. before, her comments had been directed at others, arthur more often than not, but never toward merlin. they were in the same boat so why would morgana target him?

but she did and things get a little tense. then merlin finds a spell and shows morgana and the two of them, utterly exhausted and desperate for an end to their agony, agree to take part in the spell together. merlin concocts the potion and they both down it. the next day, merlin and morgana are as happy as can be. it was a startling 180° from the morose and downtrodden duo they had been not even twelve hours before to the happy, on cloud nine, nothing is wrong with the world people that hummed as they danced around the castle

merlin and morgana exclaim to one another how freeing it is to not feel such a heavy burden of unrequited love. they mention how easy it is to breath. how they haven’t been this happy and carefree in years. of course, like everything else, there comes a price

to be rid of feelings like love, the opposite feeling would take it’s place. a lot of people believe the opposite of love to be hate, but it is in fact indifference. it starts off slow where gwen makes inside jokes that morgana cant remember. then it moves to them having trouble remembering arthur and gwen’s names. then their memories begin to rewrite themselves to remove arthur and gwen from their minds. eventually, they roam the halls, arm in arm, without even a glance at either arthur or gwen bc they cant find it in themselves to care about these two random strangers. who would?

arthur and gwen go to gaius who has already noted their odd behaviors and has been looking into it. the rest of the knights join them in gaius’s chambers bc they had also noticed how weird they were acting. lancelot is quiet and brooding until arthur pushes him to confess what he knows.

lancelot tells them how he fell for gwen the first time he had come to camelot. she flushes and arthur seems upset but lancelot continues. he tells them all how despite, or maybe because of, his love for gwen, he let her go to be with arthur bc she was happy with him. he hesitates and gwen encourages him. lancelot mentally apologizes to his two magical friends and spills the beans. he explains how morgana has loved gwen for years and how merlin has loved arthur for years. the three of them had bonded after arthur and gwen were engaged about how much it hurt watching the person you love be happy with someone else.

slowly, he pulls out a vial filled with glittering, dark red liquid - dark like blood. he hands it to gaius and explains how they had come to him a few days ago with that and said how it would cure his pain. it would wash away his love for gwen so he wasn’t crushed under the weight of it. he says he never took it bc he didn’t think it was right but merlin and morgana had already taken it. he wasn’t sure what the side effects were going to be until he saw them that afternoon.

gaius finds what the potion is and explains how it did in fact wash away their feelings of love for arthur and gwen and with the absence of love, indifference took hold. he wasn’t sure if their missing memories could be attributed to the indifference or if the spell took to wiping the memories to prevent the love from regrowing.

arthur and gwen are quiet, guilty and upset that their closest friends were going thru such turmoil and they weren’t aware at all. leon clears his throat and asks how to cure them. gaius grimaces and read the book a bit more before responding that a counter potion would do the trick, it would neutralize the previous potion by bringing back their memories and feelings. arthur is quick to agree but gaius interrupts that once the counter potion has been administered, everything will come back at once. everything.

they question him and he explains that every memory, every word spoken, every touch, and every feeling from the past 7+ years will run through them at the same time. considering they’ve been dealing with unreciprocated love and watching the one they love be with someone else for the past couple of years, it wouldn’t be that farfetched to assume that they would look and sound like dying animals. suffice to say, it wouldn’t be pretty.

in spite of the guilt and fear in arthur, he insists that they have to bring merlin and morgana back. he doesn’t want to put them in pain but he cant just let them wipe themselves away and continue on with his life as if he didn’t just lose his best friend and sister. they spike merlin and morgana’s wine with the potion and, as gaius predicted, merlin and morgana both drop to the floor, screaming and crying in pain, pleading with anyone to make it stop and take the pain away.

gwen hides her tears in elyan’s shoulder, arthur uses his long taught skill of being an Emotionless Prick of a Prince his father taught him to not cry. the tears stay in his eyes and do not fall. a few minutes later, merlin and morgana are both catatonic on the ground, limp and staring at nothing. their breathing is slow, so slow they almost appeared dead.

lancelot and gwaine help merlin up and take him to his chambers while leon and percival do the same for morgana. no one mentions what happened and merlin and morgana stay locked in their rooms for two days before being able to get up out of bed. they aren’t back to their shadow selves from two weeks prior, nor are they the happy go lucky duo from the past few days. instead, they are slow and quiet and barely even there. they’re barely even people anymore. simply going through the motions.

[mangowillow]

perhaps love

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

genre/tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, hurt & comfort, mentions of drinking & insomnia

word count: 12.5 k

a/n: no matter how many times i tear this story down, it will always come back swinging. perhaps love was the very first fic i wrote for the fandom and this story means a ton.

For as long as you could remember, you had loved Jungkook with all of your heart.

But the reality is, love seemed out of reach, a far stretch. Not when Jungkook was first and foremost your best friend.

The whole apartment was surrounded by darkness, except for the pure moonlight that seeped through your bedroom window. Your room was your favorite place in the world-- away from everyone, just you and the stillness. You had really bad sleeping habits and your insomnia has gotten worse over time. You tried everything to fall asleep, including hot showers and scented candles. Nothing worked… except for Jungkook.

Jungkook usually played games into the night as his own way to unwind from the stress of being one of the most sought-after graphic artists. When he’s not holding the console, he’s nose deep into his computer or tablet, illustrating his next commission. He just submitted his drafts for his latest client’s marketing kit a few hours prior so he could afford to while away his time tonight. He walked to the kitchen to grab another can of beer when he saw your bedroom door slightly ajar. He padded his way through the hall and leaned against the doorframe, watching your peaceful expression

“Can’t sleep?”

You turned your head in the direction of the bedroom door. Jungkook’s gentle voice that echoed through the quiet of their shared apartment was his other favorite place in the world. 

“It’s always hard.”

Jungkook pushed the door further and went inside. You two had been living together for almost two years and Jungkook already knew the layout of the space like the back of his hand. He set the unopened beer can on the bedside table and went under the duvet with you. It had always been this simple-- it was either Jungkook grabbed an extra beer can and share it with you or coaxed you to sleep entirely. Tonight, it was the latter. Jungkook ran a hand up and down your back.

You felt a pang inside your chest. It was barely there but still felt. Tonight was different, lonelier. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe this was just how it had to be.

“Tell me what you need,” Jungkook muttered.

“Gguk…” you started. Jungkook hummed, ever so kind, so patient. “Can you help me sleep?”

Years of friendship made words between you comfortable and safe. Your insomnia started right around the time your dance studio was gaining more enrollees and by the end of a year, you already needed to hire a few more dancers and bigger studio space. Jungkook was there to witness all your hard work, sleepless nights trying to perfect a routine you had to teach every week. Jungkook was there to help you through the breakdowns and occasionally had to endure your spats, to which you apologized for with ramen and kimbap. 

You and Jungkook go way back, but tonight it’s just the two of you and your shared present. Jungkook helped you lay down on the bed and your heart swelled . Jungkook lay on his side as he gently guided you to face him. In the calm of the night, you saw stars in Jungkook’s eyes. You willed yourself not to speak for fear of breaking the moment. Jungkook started to caress your cheek ever so lightly, eyes falling close as you reveled in the softness of how Jungkook took care of you. As Jungkook continued to comfort you, he started singing your favorite sleep song.

now playing: watch you sleep. by girl in red

Jungkook’s melodious voice rang through the room with much reverence. You both find yourselves busy in life, but you always, always come back home to each other-- and that thought makes your heart ache so much more. Tonight might be lonely, but you also treasured moments like this when you allowed yourself to surrender, to take pleasure in being with Jungkook. By the time he finished the song, you were already fighting to stay awake.

I want to be with you for longer.  

“What about your game, Gguk?”

“I will play another round before I go to bed. Right now, you’re more important.” Jungkook tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need me to.”

“Gguk-ah.”

A smirk found its way into Jungkook’s pretty lips. He knew what was coming next.

“Can you stay?”

It felt like the whole room stilled ten times over.

“I mean… just for tonight,” you quickly added, worried you might’ve said the wrong thing too late.

Jungkook gently got up from the bed and walked out the door, leaving you to wonder if you messed up. Yeah, you did , you thought. Was it that easy to mess things up? Was Jungkook really that uninterested? As you listened to Jungkook’s footsteps, you also heard the gameplay music coming from the living room abruptly stop. A few objects were heard being moved around until Jungkook’s footsteps once again became louder. 

Jungkook said nothing as he closed the door to your bedroom, his weight sinking into the other side of the bed. 

Oh, he came back, your mind dumbly said.

It was always familiar, that feeling of Jungkook being too close. You wished it never had to end. Jungkook slid an arm under you and the other caged you in closer to his chest. He dropped a light kiss to the top of your head and picked up where his hands left off— grazing your spine. 

“Are you cold?”

You swore you heard Jungkook smile through his words.

“No. The duvet can cover us both, I think.”

“Hmm. I’ll hold you through the night in case the duvet falls.” 

Jungkook placed another feathery kiss on your forehead. A few seconds seemed to have passed with nothing but comfortable silence, two hearts beating for one another.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

You felt Jungkook’s hold on you grow tighter.

“Goodnight, ____.” 

The morning after was both the easiest and hardest thing you had to face because it was either you woke up to Jungkook still peacefully sleeping beside you or to an already empty bedside. 

This time around, Jungkook was already awake and smiling.

Smiling.

You thought it to be so endearing and cruel of him at the same time. Jungkook never watched you sleep before. 

Chuckling probably because he saw your wide eyes, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

You shifted before nodding with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Like a baby.”

You chuckled too as he yawned and stretched. You’re so beautiful like this.

“What do you want for breakfast, ___?”

“Do we still have eggs?”

Jungkook nodded, “and bacon, too.”

“Ugh, heaven on earth. I’ll have both, please.”

Jungkook smiled warmly like he was the soft morning light himself, “I’ll whip us some pancakes, too.”

You nodded, yawning a second time. You got up to brush your teeth and do the usual morning skincare routine. As you stared at yourself through the mirror, you thought about how you could feel so content living with Jungkook like this— peaceful with endless possibilities. 

You realized your love for Jungkook on a rainy day when both of you were supposed to try and fly the kites you made over Gwangalli beach in Busan. You remember feeling bummed out because Jungkook put so much hard work into making those kites, only to be destroyed by a sudden downpour. You’d expected Jungkook to be upset as well, but to your surprise, Jungkook pulled you into the pouring rain to dance. He always did that. You thought he was crazy for doing so, but you went along with your fifteen-year-old friend’s absurd idea. 

It was a good thing you let yourself be pulled into pouring rain by Jeon Jungkook… because from then on, your love for him just grew. Blossomed like the spring flowers on a cool afternoon.

You were pulled out from your memories when you heard a phone ring. You quickly finished combing your hair and went out of the room, feeling hopeful about breakfast.

“...hyeong, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

It was Jungkook speaking to someone on the other end of the line. He had his AirPods on as he waited for the bacon to turn crispy— just the way you liked it. You sat down across from Jungkook on the kitchen counter and he gave you a small smile, even though his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Okay, fine, fine, I’ll go… I’ll see you later.” Jungkook tapped the right AirPod twice, ending the call. You could tell something was off. 

“Everything okay?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away as he transferred the bacon onto a plate with paper towels. “Yeah, that was Yoongi hyeong”

“Oh great, are you guys meeting up later?” You tried to make light of the situation, but could already feel the other shoe was about to drop.

You’ve always had that lingering anxiety at the pit of your stomach whenever you were with Jungkook. It co-exists, always present as your love for him. It’s the product of a love unreciprocated.

Jungkook hummed, too concentrated on the eggs in front of him. “Hyeong set me up on a date with someone.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook kept his head down as he cooked, but you didn’t miss how he looked up briefly at you the moment the small surprise left your lips.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Isn’t it? It’s about time you tried dating again.” 

The morning was already starting to crumble right before you could even get through breakfast.

“Yeah, I… I think it’d be fun. I’ll see how it goes.”

You have seen Jungkook’s fair share of dating experiences over the course of your friendship. He never brought anyone home to your apartment, but you almost always witnessed how fleeting his dates were. It wasn’t as if Jungkook didn’t like them, it’s just that he prioritized his work more than the possibility of finding love. The last one Jungkook dated was like a tornado in human form. You remembered how happy he always seemed to be after their dates. He’d tell you about how she made him want to come out of his shell more and that maybe, just maybe she could be the one. You were happy for his best friend then, you always were. But you were also heartbroken seeing your childhood love date other people, let alone look at them differently. You had only met the girl once— and you immediately understood why Jungkook liked her. Kind, charming, and passionate about art and life. An advocate for women’s rights, a cat lover. 

Everything that you didn’t seem to be.

You don’t know how the relationship ended, though. That’s the thing about Jungkook— with you, he was magic and light, wild and full of compassion, but when it came to sharing his feelings, he always had a hard time expressing them. You are as patient as ever though, never pushing Jungkook to emotional places where he didn’t want to be. 

You will always wait for Jungkook. But is it worth it?

“You should really get out of the house, Jungkook. Go and have fun. Your art will be waiting for you here at home,” you tried to smile as Jungkook handed you your breakfast request.

“You sound like you really want me out of the house, ____.” Jungkook teased.

You dramatically sighed, threw in a slight roll of your eyes for good measure, “I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”

“I always know, ____.” 

You will always look out for him. Love him from afar. You will always choose your best friend. You could only wish that Jungkook would choose you, too.

You definitely felt like an idiot waiting up for Jungkook.

You liked to tell yourself that Jungkook’s mystery date didn’t bother you at all, but being alone in the apartment on your day off didn’t help much because you thought about the said date all day long. 

Here’s the problem: You didn’t know you were so bothered.

Well, you, knew why… in a way. But you didn’t like admitting it to yourself because it becomes so much clearer. Jungkook has always been a constant in your life, a friend through thick and thin-- but that’s the issue. Jungkook is a friend.

You heard faint footsteps becoming louder until someone was punching the code to unlock the door— Jungkook was home. You quickly glanced at the clock. It was only 9 pm. He’s home early, isn’t he? What does coming home early or late from a date even mean ? You shook your head rapidly, willing the ridiculous questions away when the familiar melody of the door successfully unlocking rang through the room, and in came Jungkook. You repositioned yourself at lightning speed, pretended to watch TV, and only looked up when Jungkook came into view.

“Hey. How did your date go?” Your eyes flitted back to the screen in front of you, feigning indifference.

Jungkook plopped next to you on the couch and stretched his legs, “T’was good.”

Turning your body to face Jungkook you asked, “How good is good?”

Jungkook chuckled as he intertwined his fingers behind his neck. He didn’t pry his eyes away from the TV, which was showing a variety show about refrigerators.

“We had dinner. Mia was a nice girl, very polite.”

Ah, so the name was Mia. You slowly nodded before tilting your head to the side, revealing a small smirk, “did you have fun at least?”

“I guess it was alright. You know how awkward blind dates make me feel.”

“What makes them awkward again?”

“I’m not sure exactly… It's like I just don’t know how to act around them, let alone know what to say. It’s— I’m not even sure if she had a good time, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m sure he had a good time,” you turned your attention back to the TV but muted the volume. Why was there a face towel inside one of the refrigerators? 

“What makes you so sure, ____?”

You shrugged, “You’re pretty amazing Jungkook. Funny, smart, very attuned to others. I think you just don’t see it because, you know, it’s you.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. The momentary silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Why are you still up, ____?” Jungkook suddenly murmured. He was still facing the TV, but he had his eyes closed.

You suddenly felt a need to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. When you didn’t respond, Jungkook opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Do you need help sleeping, ____?”

“I really shouldn’t ask for too much, Jungkook. It must be uncomfortable not sleeping in your own bed.”

Jungkook gently flicked a finger at your forehead. You feigned hurt.

“Silly. Come on, let’s get ready for bed. It’s getting late and you have an early class tomorrow, right?” You didn’t even know he remembered your schedule. You let Jungkook pull you by the wrist, leading the way to your bedroom.

Like coming home, you slotted yourself comfortably in between Jungkook’s waiting arms as you both lay in bed. Jungkook rested his chin on top of your head and breathed in your soft, powdery scent. You instantly felt Jungkook relax, all tension starting to ebb away, but maybe it was all just in your head.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I just… I don’t know, I have a long day tomorrow and I need to sleep.”

Jungkook adjusted himself in a way to give you some wiggle room but still held you close. “You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand how pressured you must feel, especially because the dance studio is going through big transitions.”

In your mind, you were thinking of all the ways you and Jungkook just clicked . But there’s that tiny part of you that feels that maybe this arrangement wasn’t the most ideal because for all you knew, Mia might just be a really great girl and Jungkook just needed time to warm up to her. Having Jungkook this close was your dream-- a dream you’ve always kept safe in the recesses of your mind. Now that it’s actually happening— and that it’s been happening for a while now— you crave this closeness more and more and yet, you also feel guilty because you needed to run in the opposite direction. Before things got too painful.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Your body went stiff so Jungkook pulled you much closer as he ran a hand through your hair. He looked at you, eyes soft and half-lidded, your faces too close you felt like something else was going to happen.

But nothing ever happened. Of course. 

He held your gaze a bit longer and you wanted to tell him the truth. Tell him to look at you just this once. But words failed you once more.

“Thank you, Gguk.”

Not a lot of words need to be exchanged. You have been friends for so long that almost all your movements and emotions, no matter how subtle, were easily discernible. You know when Jungkook is having one of his creative blocks because he becomes irritable. Jungkook knows that you can sometimes be too hard on yourself when it comes to dancing, so he cooks your favorite bibimbap as a way to ease his stress. You and Jungkook just know how to comfort one another.

“My silly darling,” He never called you that before, but you could almost hear Jungkook smile as he uttered it. “I want to be here.”

If your heart suddenly stopped, you hoped Jungkook didn’t notice. I want to be here, he said. With a languid smile on your tired face, you succumbed to the pull of sleep, hoping your dreams about Jungkook would never end.

“You already picked the last movie, ____.”

“Fine, we can watch one of yours.”

Jungkook’s bunny smile reappeared and your heart grew ten times its size. After eating dinner, you both decided to watch a movie. After all, it was a Friday night and neither of you had the energy to spend it outside with other people. You watched as Jungkook flicked through the movie choices until he finally settled on a Marvel movie. 

You were already halfway through the movie when the doorbell rang. You and Jungkook looked at each other, both of you surprised because you weren’t expecting anyone at this late hour. As you shrugged your shoulders, Jungkook got up to answer the door.

You decided to pause the movie because you didn’t want Jungkook to miss anything, but doing so made it clear that the sudden visitor was actually Yoongi.

The location of the door wasn’t too far off from where you were sitting. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either, but you couldn’t help but wonder why Jungkook didn't let Yoongi in.

“Mia told me about your date. I don’t understand, Jungkook, you both said you had a great time, so what’s the problem?”

Oh, they were talking about Jungkook’s date. At this hour?

“I don’t know, hyeong. I guess it never occurred to me to call her so quickly after a first date. Did you come all the way here just to ask that?” Jungkook was a fairly mellow person. Almost never irritable with anyone but himself, just very patient even when you could see how other people were already pushing his buttons.

“I think Mia really likes you, Gguk-ah. You should call her. I also came by to bring you back some of your art supples because you left them at the studio yesterday.”

You heard plastic rustling. Jungkook didn’t answer right away, not until his voice lowered, almost sounding like he was pleading.

“Let me think about it, hyeong. Please?”

Yoongi sounded a bit exasperated, “Fine. How’s ____?”

“She’s fine. We were actually watching a movie,” Jungkook was back to his usual tone of voice, but clipper. 

“Oh, that’s nice…”

“Would you like to join us? We still have a beer in the fridge, I think.”

“No, I just… I was just about to go home and thought I’d stop by to give you your things because I already had them in the car, but uh— yeah. Maybe some other time.”

It didn’t register with you right away that Jungkook had Mia’s number. Whether Jungkook asked for it or the other way around, they still exchanged numbers. There was a chance of a second date. You didn’t notice the lump forming in your throat as you came to realize again that Jungkook wasn’t yours. You had no right to think this way about Jungkook and his love life. He lives his own life, free to date anyone, anytime. 

You weren’t supposed to hear this conversation either. The feeling of impending dread slowly crept up on you. All you knew was that whatever you were feeling right now is something that shouldn’t even be happening.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you saw Jungkook return from the corner of his eye. You suddenly lost all strength to continue the movie. Without even thinking, you pulled yourself up to your feet with the intention of going back to your room. Maybe sleep would do something to dull the ache.

But then you remembered you had a hard time doing that, too.

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You held out hope for a minute there— hope that maybe Jungkook would tell you he was sorry, but then again, what would he be sorry for? He shouldn’t feel sorry for anything, especially not your feelings. 

The sadness was starting to fester through your bones again. You had to get out of the living room, away from the one person who could make you feel better. Wordlessly, you let your feet take you to the bedroom and quietly shut the door. 

Jungkook never tried to pry nor force you to explain anything to him. He was always the understanding one, always the one who gave you your space when you needed it, even when you were being cold to him.

That’s the thing with Jungkook— he knew exactly when to be there for you. Except for this time around, not even Jungkook’s presence can heal an unknown emptiness that you don’t even recognize yourself.

Nine-year-old you never really liked the first few hours after school because that meant you had to stay and wait until your mom picked you up. School grounds can get pretty lonely, especially when all the other kids have already gone home. Young as you were, you found it funny that both you and your mom ended up closing shop every day— you closing school grounds, while your mom closed the register at the grocery store where she worked. 

What nine-year-old you hated the most was when you had to wait after school while it rained because you couldn’t walk around the courtyard and play. 

You hugged your knees as you rocked yourself back and forth watching the rain splatter on the cold, hard ground. Of all days, you forgot to bring a jacket and you were starting to shiver. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon. Your mom wouldn’t arrive until six. 

Just after you let out a big sigh, a boy came running in your direction carrying an umbrella. Strange. No one but you usually stayed at school this late. 

When the boy reached the stairs and closed his umbrella, he shook off excess water from his already wet hair, causing a few droplets to splatter all over your face.

“Oops, sorry about that.”

The boy gave you his widest smile as he continued to catch his breath from running too fast. You usually saw this boy walk along the school hallways, always surrounded by his friends. You were also clubmates in dance.

“My name’s Jungkook. We go to dance club together.”

“I know...” You replied as you rested your chin on top of your knees again.

“You dance really well, I wish I could be as graceful as you… anyway, what are you still doing here?” 

“I’m waiting for my mom. She usually picks me up, but she has to finish her job at the store first.”

“Oh, okay. How long do you still have to wait for her?”

“Probably a few more hours,” you didn’t mean for your tone to be somber, but you couldn’t help it. 

As much as you love your parents, sometimes it can get quite lonely.

“That might take forever!” Jungkook’s eyes grew wide but you found it amusing. Most people would just say ‘oh’ and move on. Or maybe pity you.

“It’s no big deal, I’m used to it already.”

“Well, do you want to grab something to eat first?”

While you knew Jungkook meant no harm, you still wondered why he was offering all of a sudden. What was he even doing here?

“I don’t think—”

“My driver Mr. Hong-sik is parked right outside near a hotteok stand. Let’s go buy some!”

You hesitated because you weren’t supposed to leave the school grounds until an adult came to pick you up but at the same time, you were really hungry. 

“What do you say?”

“Do you promise that we will go back here after buying?”

Jungkook was already nodding, his smile growing wide again upon hearing the possibility of you giving in to the idea of hot hotteok. 

“Yes, of course. Mr. Hong-sik will take care of us, don’t worry. Besides—” Jungkook opened his umbrella, droplets of rain splattered across your face again, “—this umbrella is big enough to fit us both.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

It would only be years later when Jungkook admitted to you that he had known for a while how you spent your days alone after school and that he wanted to keep you company. 

When you were seventeen and Jungkook fifteen, the school dance team won an award. You both celebrated by eating ramen and ice cream at your mother’s grocery store. 

When you and Jungkook went to college, you decided to share a room together because you both got into SNU. Over the years mishaps had happened, you both cringed at each other’s disaster dates, and cried when you had your hearts broken by careless people. Through the highs and lows of life and love, you and Jungkook were a team. 

Now that you are twenty-six and Jungkook twenty-four, you continue to conquer the world together.

Except that you never expected to slowly fall for the boy who accidentally splattered water on your face twice and shared his umbrella.  

“Yah— stop eating all of the danmuji!” Taehyung playfully snapped as he chewed on his jajangmyeon. 

“I already told you to order extra, but of course, you didn’t listen again,” you replied, happily chewing on the kimchi.

“I totally forgot, okay? Let me breathe,” Taehyung pouted. “It’s not every day when little kids come into the studio and wreak havoc during hip hop class.” You chuckled at your best friend’s whining and placed a piece of danmuji on top of his noodles. Taehyung looked to you and mumbled his thanks.

You were sitting with your legs sprawled out on the dance floor of the dance studio. Both of you just finished your separate intensive classes and were fueling up for the next set this afternoon.

“I heard Jungkook went out on a date,” Taehyung isn’t really one for dilly-dallying. Always straight to the point. 

“Yoongi told you, huh?”

“Of course. The man could never hide secrets from me. Not in our household.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Jungkook did go on a date,” you didn’t like where the conversation was going, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop Taehyung from asking further either. A part of you wanted to talk about it with someone. 

“And how do you feel about that?” Taehyung shoved a piece of kimchi onto his mouth and waited for your answer.

You started to re-arrange the toppings on your plate, trying to avoid eye contact all of a sudden, “what do you mean?”

“I know you, ____. You can’t hide from me.”

You chuckled at your best friend’s blunt nature. It’s one of the things you liked most about him because you were the opposite— always caring, understanding, nice. You put others first before yourself because that’s who you are— the reliable friend. You know Taehyung means well and is just looking out for you, too.

“Do I have to answer your question?”

“You don’t have to, but I can tell it’s bothering you. You didn’t even notice that I took the last piece of chicken just now—”

“YAH!”

Taehyung snickered, “But seriously, you’re quiet than usual. Does he still help you sleep?”

“He does.”

“And he hasn’t said anything beyond that?”

“What is he supposed to say?”

Taehyung shrugged, “You tell me.”

“We’re friends, Taehyung. There’s nothing else to say” You let your shoulders sag. You’re surprised at yourself that you’ve been holding the tension in. 

“After everything—” Taehyung paused and bit his bottom lip, trying to carefully choose what to say next, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason why he volunteers to help you sleep is that he likes you too?”

“Stop putting ideas into my head.”

“I’m not, but I do want to point out what you can’t see, ____. I’m your best friend— Jungkook is, too, but with us it’s different. I don’t feel the urge to jump you every so often, ah!---” Taehyung earned a playful smack from you, “Look, all I’m saying is… you and Jungkook have been friends for a really long time so why don’t you just talk to him?”

You started to argue, “It’s not that easy. It might ruin our friendship.”

“But how else are you going to get past this?”

“Take my feelings to the grave,” you expressed glumly.

“So dramatic. And very, very difficult for you to bear all on your own.”

“I’m scared, Taehyung. What if things become awkward?”

“Will Jungkook really let it come to that? He’s your best friend. If he says he doesn’t feel the same way, the more important thing here is you. You and your heart— because at least in knowing, you can finally move forward. Date other people without the what ifs.”

You seemed to mull over Taehyung’s words. 

“I’m not forcing you to ask him. At the end of the day, you get to decide. I just want you to be happy, ____. Always.”

“I know, Taehyung-ie. Thank you.”

You came home that night to Jungkook passed out from exhaustion on their couch. He still had his eyeglasses on, his apple pencil caught in between his fingers. His iPad was on top of the coffee table and you assumed that Jungkook rushed yet again another commission for a client. It was still early— 8 o’ clock. You wondered if Jungkook had already eaten. You draped a blanket over him and adjusted his head on one of the pillows into a more comfortable position. The movement slightly jostled Jungkook awake. With half-lidded eyes, he gave you a sleepy smile.

“Hi ____, you’re home.”

“Hmm, I am.”

“How was class today?”

“Excellent. Did you get to finish that commission?”

Jungkook yawned, “Barely... ”

You reluctantly caressed Jungkook hair, fingers gently rubbing his scalp. As soon as you did, his eyes fell closed. 

“Have you eaten, Gguk-ah?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to. What if I came home really late? You can’t miss your meals.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

You chuckled as he mumbled, “Brat. I’ll whip us up some kimchi kimbap and ramen. How does that sound?”

“I’d love that, thank you.”

“You can sleep more. I’ll wake you up when dinner’s ready.”

“I can help you—”

“Stay put. I’ll be quick, okay?”

Jungkook nodded as he watched you disappear into the kitchen. You prepared all the supplies needed to make dinner and as soon as you started chopping the kimchi for the kimbap, you heard Jungkook’s soft snores. 

Suddenly, all of your fears ebbed away. Emotions were a funny thing— the fondness you had for Jungkook overtook your whole being everytime you looked at him. Sometimes you want to feel angry at how Jungkook seemed oblivious, but then again… he isn’t really a mind-reader. You have always been affectionate with each other and you wondered where people drew the line between friendship and love. What happens when one catches feelings? What happens to both of you if a confession was the way to settle things once and for all? The stakes were too high— confessing your feelings for Jungkook might make him pull away. What happens to the friendship built over the years? If you were lucky, maybe Jungkook might love you, too.

You were in a bind and you didn’t like that.

Jungkook slept on the living room couch, tired from the day’s work. You both make meals for each other. You sleep together on the same bed. Shouldn’t life with Jungkook be this easy? 

And obvious?

After twenty minutes, dinner was ready. You woke Jungkook up and he devoured the simple dinner over stories of your classes and his ideas for the client’s project. 

This friendship is simple. Light. It is a life well lived between two childhood friends that began with a shared an umbrella and hotteok. You wished it was always this uncomplicated. 

Jungkook helped you sleep again that night. Not a lot of words were shared because you were honestly exhausted and just when you thought you didn’t need cuddles, Jungkook went into your room and laid on your bed, not uttering a single word. He only wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your cotton scent. 

“You’re always helping me, Jungkook.”

“Is it working? Are you sleeping well?”

“I am, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad. I’m really glad, ____.”

All is right in this world, all is well with us this way, you thought before you gave in to the pull of sleep for another night. 

You woke up to the sunlight and an empty bed. Muffled sounds could be heard from outside the bedroom.

“Mia’s kind of annoyed that she gave you his number but you still haven’t called her”

“I know.”

“Is this about ____? Is that why you haven’t—”

“I don’t know, hyeong, it’s too early to have this conversation.”

Yoongi came into view as soon as you reached the kitchen. His back was turned to you and it seemed like he was cooking pancakes. Jungkook was sitting on the stool by the counter and had his back to you. 

“Oh, good morning, ____,” Yoongi chimed.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook poured you a glass of orange juice, “Slept well?”

You didn’t have your words yet so you just nodded. Even with Yoongi busy with the stove, you felt the tension that made itself known so suddenly around the kitchen.

And for some reason, Jungkook decided to throw out the trash, leaving you and Yoongi alone for a while.

“How are you, ____” Yoongi asked as he gave you a serving of pancakes, egg, and bacon. The last thing you expected was to wake up to breakfast prepared by a visitor sprinkled with passive confrontation.

You sipped his orange juice again before replying, “I’m doing well. Dance classes are picking up.”

“I’m glad… and Jungkook?”

“What do you mean?”

“How is Jungkook… and you?”

It was way too early for this conversation.

“I need you to be a bit more specific about what you really want to ask me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was met with an almost deafening silence. You knew that apart from him, Jungkook confided in Yoongi the most. He knew most of Jungkook’s dating escapades and with that, his heart aches too. Yoongi is Jungkook’s fiercest protector, you are well-aware. You understand how he tends to be confrontational especially when it came to Jungkook’s feelings. 

Because they go way back.

In all honesty, you were terrified of Yoongi knowing about how Jungkook had been helping you sleep, but you didn’t know why you were scared. Yoongi is your friend too, after all. 

Maybe because you wanted to keep such intimate moments with Jungkook for yourself. Something that was yours, and yours alone. Unfortunately, you had a gut feeling Yoongi knows a lot more than he’s letting on.

“Jungkook just started dating again, ____.”

“I’m all too aware. I don’t think I’m going to be a problem.”

“It might be if Jungkook helps you sleep every night.”

And there it is.

“We’re just friends, Yoongi. I’m not expecting anything from him.” You felt your heart sink to your feet, trampled on. Yoongi knew. 

But why was frustration rising up in the back of your throat?

“Are you sure you’re not expecting anything?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Tension, tension, tension. You hated it.

“You had your chance once, ____, and you walked away. It’s not fair for you to do this to Jungkook again.”

And there it is. The word again .

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lightly tapping the glass of juice with your fingers, willing for the tears to retreat back to where they came from. You cannot afford to cry in front of Yoongi. Or Jungkook. It was too goddamn early.

You did not sign up to have your memories, your insecurities, and your reality laid bare on the kitchen counter. 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Jungkook is my friend. He always will be.”

Vulnerability wasn’t your strongest suit. You weren't your emotions’ best soldier, either. You wanted to yell at Yoongi, shout at him for even implying that you were getting in the way of Jungkook and his dating life.

“Jungkook cannot date freely if he always has to think about coming home to help you sleep,” Yoongi’s words cut like a knife, making you wince. “You know he deserves better than that. You deserve better than that.”

You have very blunt and straightforward friends, and although they keep you grounded, sometimes you hate how they can casually talk to you about your feelings. Sometimes you think they forget that your sunny disposition can also be sometimes moored by rain and storms. 

“I’m sorry, ____. That was too much, I—”

“No, Yoongi, it’s okay,” tears have already fallen and you hastily wiped them away, “You’re right, it was my fault. I’m the one who got us into this mess. I’m the one who has the sleeping problem, I’ll— I’ll figure something out, maybe get checked or something…” You kept your eyes glued to the untouched food in front of you. Throat burning, fresh tears threatening to fall once more.

Yoongi’s words stung— but he’s also right. The pain of the unspoken truth you try so hard to push down every day come rising to the surface and you are powerless to stop it. 

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it the moment he looked over your shoulder. Your stomach churned because your worst fears weren’t done with you yet— Jungkook was standing by the door.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Yoongi hyeong.” The only time you heard apparent hostility in Jungkook’s voice was years ago when someone attempted to jump you at a party. Jungkook is always kind, but when irritation, let alone animosity, takes over, he becomes a completely different person. 

All you knew was that Jungkook and his girlfriend in tornado form are over.

The music blaring from the speakers were too loud, everyone was all over the place— Jungkook, Yoongi, Taehyung. It was Jungkook’s idea to get wasted at a club. You didn’t always agree with Jungkook’s coping mechanisms, because you knew he was a terrible drinker— someone who couldn’t hold his liquor well. 

But he was heartbroken and what do good friends do? Let them cry and wallow.

But right now, it was time to go home. You called a cab for Yoongi and Taehyung, while you and Jungkook got into another. It was a good decision that you didn’t bring your own car. You wouldn’t have any other choice but to drag Jungkook’s drunk ass to the passenger seat and you weren’t sure you could manage that.

You were thankful that Jungkook could still manage to walk, even if he needed to be physically supported by you. You both fumbled for a bit as you closed your apartment door behind you.

“Alright, you big baby, take off your shoes.”

Jungkook did as he was told, but you could tell his body was about to give up on him so you hastily walked him to the bedroom.

You heaved a big sigh after Jungkook collapsed into the mattress. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing slowly steady itself and you honestly thought he was asleep.

“Are you dead?”

When Jungkook didn’t move, a playful smirk painted your lips and you shook your head. You leaned in closer to fluff Jungkook’s pillow, when his head suddenly turned to face you. 

With eyes half-lidded, you thought Jungkook looked beautiful underneath the sliver of moonlight shining through the bedroom window. He reeked of alcohol and smoke, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t help but hold his gaze.

Hesitant fingers reached up to trace the skin on your cheek. Jungkook blinked once as he ran gently ran his fingers from the corner of your eye to your chin.

Jungkook’s voice was so soft, you almost didn't hear him ask, “Why don’t you like me, ____?”

“What are you talking about, of course I like you.”

Jungkook shook his head, “That’s not what I meant…”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. You reminded yourself that Jungkook was intoxicated. He wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. He might not even know what he is doing or saying right now.

“Why can’t you love me, ____?” Jungkook swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “because I have loved you for so long and you won’t even look at me.”

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t exactly know why, “That’s not true, Jungkook.”

“Then prove it, ____.”

“I don’t know how.”

Jungkook, in a way, helped you. With eyes focused on your lips, he slowly lifted his head to graze your mouth with his own. When he finally kissed you, your head was spinning that you had to use your arm for support to keep you up.

Jungkook mustered up all of his remaining strength to sit up on the bed to kiss you properly. He cupped your face with his hand and you did the same. Under the same moonlight, you and Jungkook started to take that one step closer to finally acknowledging what has been there all along.

But in your head, you didn’t know what you want.

Lips separated, letting the both of you breathe. Jungkook touched his forehead against yours before his lips planted a light, lingering kiss there.

Your heart sank even deeper and you fought the tears that were about to come.

Because even though you really loved Jungkook, you and he were at the right place at the wrong time.

The next morning, you and Jungkook weren’t the type to dance around each other. He did remember what happened last night.

“I need to know, ____. I need to know what you want.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded, but you didn’t miss the flash of sadness that passed through his once hopeful eyes. 

“Are we still friends at least?”

It took all of you to nod your head in agreement. It was better this way.

“Of course we are.”

“Then that’s all I want, ____.”

Just as Yoongi closed the door behind him and it was just you and Jungkook in the now tense atmosphere of the apartment, confusion flooded you. Dread soon followed upon realizing what had just happened. 

You were holding Jungkook back and it’s all your fault. All because you still couldn’t decide what you really want. 

When Jungkook finally locked eyes with you, his gentle gaze made your heart flutter. You don’t deserve it, you thought. But you were allured by it-- so easy to get lost in the sea of Jungkook’s beautiful, observant brown eyes, like they were meant to see right through you, heart and soul. Your face slowly morphed into a pain Jungkook didn’t recognize, a sadness he hasn’t seen before. Your bottom lip began to quiver and before you knew it, you full-on sobbed into your hands. Just as quickly as the collapse of everything began, Jungkook was swift on his feet, taking you into his arms. 

Jungkook embraces you tightly, his breathing controlled in an effort to curb your sobs. You could hear Jungkook’s heartbeat and it was an odd source of comfort despite the distress you were actively feeling. You felt Jungkook’s large hand stroke your hair in slow motion, chin resting on top of your head as if trying to silently tell you don’t cry.

Being with Jungkook felt like drowning and coming up for air all at the same time— your constant, but also your poison. Yoongi was right, Jungkook deserves to be happy after you blew your chance to tell him how you really felt. 

You loved Jungkook, but you had to let him go because he doesn’t deserve to be with someone who cannot make up her mind. When you said no to him a year ago, you thought it was the best for the both of you— Jungkook was hurting and he kissed you because he was drunk and in pain. Not because he loves you. You thought that maybe after some time had passed, what happened that night would just be a distant memory between two friends who had a momentary lapse of judgment.

You have to let him go because it’s the right thing to do, the only way to save the friendship you built over the years. You once saved it, you cannot mess up again. It was selfish, yet so selfless.

When you finally calmed down a little bit more and your breathing slowed, Jungkook loosened his grip. You immediately felt the distance once more, but it was as if Jungkook heard your thoughts because he only pulled away to wipe your tears with his thumbs. Jungkook’s hands cupped your face for a while longer, staring into your teary eyes. Jungkook mumbled an apology as he pressed his forehead with yours. As he closed his eyes, you received a glimpse of Jungkook’s sadness without words. 

Loving Jungkook isn’t supposed to be painful.

Jungkook had to meet a new client so that meant he needed to leave the apartment. You could tell it was difficult for him to leave you all alone in the apartment, but Jungkook only asked if you were going to be okay.

You struggled to leave home that day, but you had to because if you didn’t get out and teach dance, you would continue to drown in your own suffering. You both left the apartment with nothing but your unspoken words and broken hearts.

Jungkook would find himself running late for his meeting and he arrived home to what he thought was a dark, empty apartment. Trodding down the hall to your room, he was mildly surprised to see the door was slightly ajar. Lying on the bed was you. Sleeping.

Jungkook quietly entered the room and knelt down by the side of the bed. Staring at you, with the moonlight shining down on your face, you looked serene— a stark contrast to the chaos that transpired earlier that day. Your lips were slightly parted and Jungkook found himself smiling at the sight. He gently ran his knuckles down your cheek. He did that for a while, just intentionally watching and helping you sleep even more peacefully in the gentlest way. Jungkook was thankful that you didn’t seem to be aware that you weren't alone. 

You kept your eyes closed as you reveled in the softness of Jungkook’s touch. You initially thought you were dreaming of Jungkook kneeling beside you because after all, the sleep gummies seemed to knock you out enough to fall asleep without him this time. But you realized it wasn’t a dream.

Jungkook came home.

The ache in your heart returned, but at the same time, you wished this moment of Jungkook comforting you never ended. Because at least you could have Jungkook like this.

“Will you stay still, ____? I’m not done yet.” 

You pouted as you watched Jungkook draw a bowl of ramen on your leg cast. You injured yourself while attempting to do a tourner for an after-school ballet class. You and Jungkook were now in university and renting an apartment together. Your leg rested on Jungkook’s lap while you both sat on the living room couch. Jungkook slightly had his tongue out while he colored in the ribbons and you scoffed.

“Are you done now?”

“You don’t rush art.”

“Yeah but I’m hungry and I think my leg is asleep.”

Jungkook smirked, “Your leg being in a cast doesn’t really have a choice given the circumstances, what did you expect?” You smacked him with a pillow, “You asshole, give me my leg back.”

“Ow! Nuh uh. I’m almost done.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. But you were actually endeared with Jungkook’s enthusiasm to draw a different object on your leg cast every week. The moment you got out of the hospital and after Jungkook fed you some jjampong, he carried you to the same living room couch and drew the yellow umbrella he used the day you bought hotteok. The following week, it was a sketch of a person dancing ballet which Jungkook referred to as, “the loveliest ballet dancer in the universe.” This week, it was ballet shoes hanging on one side of the backrest of a chair.

“There, done!” Jungkook slightly pulled away to admire his work then he turned and gave you his dorkiest smile. You could never ask for more.

Weeks passed as you and Jungkook fell into usual routine. You can no longer recall since when you started having a hard time communicating feelings. It wasn’t like you and Jungkook fought a lot because you almost never do. But there’s always that elephant in the room that neither of you choose to address even though it’s already staring back at you both.

On Jungkook’s birthday, Taehyung decided it would be good for you all to spend your time at a club after having dinner. From the get-go, the people in attendance were the birthday boy, Taehyung, Yoongi, you, and Mia.

Needless to say, you were awkward and in pain the entire time.

It was your first time to actually see Jungkook pay attention to someone else in a romantic way. Although he and Mia have yet to put a label on anything, they continued to date, much to your misery.

At the birthday dinner, you tried your best not to look at Jungkook and Mia the whole time, but by some strange magnetic force, everytime you unconsciously looked at Jungkook, his eyes found you.

Come to think of it, Mia was the clingy one the whole night. But maybe you were just misinterpreting things. When Taehyung suggested they go to a club, you internally groaned. Not only was this a repeat performance of what you did wrong a year ago, but it was also like salt being rubbed on a wound that never completely healed well. 

“Fuck it, let’s get wasted,” you thought. You weren’t about to let your misery ruin a fun night.

So much for that, though. You couldn’t even pay attention to your drink because Mia was already trying to get too close to Jungkook. The whole time, Jungkook’s expressions were unreadable. One of his many stupid traits, you sarcastically thought. 

You don't know exactly what happened after— Jungkook went to the bar to order more drinks for the table, followed not too long by Mia. She was relentless in flirting with Jungkook who seemed stoic and indifferent and awkward. Mia must have been really bad at reading people. Still, she didn’t give up that easily because she dragged Jungkook to the middle of the dance floor and tried to get him to dance. 

Maybe you just wanted to see what you wanted to, but if you really were in the right frame of mind, you swore you saw Jungkook finally give in and dance with her. 

Jungkook was having fun with someone else on his birthday. This is what he deserves— to be happy and free. Jungkook doesn’t have to sacrifice his time just to help you sleep every night. 

You felt like you were about to throw up. The room started spinning and suddenly all you could hear were muffled sounds of the music bass. Before you knew it, you were making your way to the exit. You needed to get out. You faintly heard Taehyung calling out to you, asking what was wrong but the tightness in your chest demanded much of your attention. 

When you reached the exit, you pushed the door all the way with all your might and started to walk. You were relieved for once that you weren’t able to drink a drop because you needed a clear head to get home safely. The club was a short distance from the apartment and all you wanted to do was lie in bed and cry yourself to sleep. 

It has been weeks. Weeks of skirting around Jungkook, acting like nothing was amiss. It worked for a while, but you knew it would backfire eventually.

You didn’t think this plan of ignoring feelings would fail you so soon. You thought you were stronger.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you struggled to enter the correct passcode to the door: 090197.

You cursed at the irony. 

Not bothering to turn on the lights, you stumbled in the dark and took off your heels. You went straight to your room and collapsed on the bed. You let the tears stain his pillow. This isn’t new to you now— crying. It somehow helped you sleep, anyway. Right now, you don't care if you cried your eyes raw. You were hurt, in pain, and you didn’t know what to do.

Nights felt like an eternity for an insomniac like you. Your thoughts were your biggest enemy in the dead of night and most of the time you are powerless to control them. You shouldn’t have allowed Jungkook to help you in the first place. Otherwise, you wouldn’t find yourself in this predicament. You’ve already kept your distance before, why did you fail again now? You should’ve known your place, the order in this world. You were Jungkook’s best friend, and you decided that for the both of you that day you told him you were sorry.

Ruminating thoughts can be a bitch because it makes you oblivious to your surroundings in real time.

You suddenly felt the other side of the bed dip. You heard sheets rustle and felt a different kind of warmth-- the kind that only your best friend could give.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your scent. In the silence of your room, Jungkook, once again, came home to you.

Both of you didn’t speak for a long while, just listening to each other’s rhythm. You felt your bottom lip quiver— you were on the verge of crying again and as you started to sit up and perhaps leave, you felt Jungkook tighten his grip as he clasped his fingers together, securing you in place.

“Please don’t cry.”

You swallowed and tried to reply, but your voice cracked instead, “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“I want to stay here with you.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why?”

“Like I said, I want to stay here with you.”

Like wildfire, your heart swelled even when your brain told you not to fall for Jungkook’s words. That you were only reading too much into things, “What about—”

“I told them I wanted to go home because you already did. I turned around to look for you because I heard the barista said there were french fries, but you weren’t at the table anymore.”

Tears started to stream down your face and you were grateful you weren't facing Jungkook. 

“I hate being the reason why you always cry, ____. I have done absolutely nothing to make things better for you and I keep making you feel sad.” Jungkook’s voice was laced with tight emotion and it was something you were hearing for the first time. Jungkook buried himself deeper in the crook of your neck.

“It hurts so much, Jungkook.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook moved in closer to whisper in your ear, “I know. I know. I’m so sorry.” 

You breathed a deep sigh as you willed away the tears. Right on cue, Jungkook gently turned your body to face him. “That’s better,” Jungkook gently smiled, pushing strands of hair away from your face.

With Jungkook’s right arm under your head and his left engulfing you in an embrace, you curled into Jungkook’s chest. No matter what pain you may be feeling, it all dissipates once you’re with Jungkook. 

“I am so sorry, ____. I’m sorry I keep running away.”

You let a small smile take over his lips, “No, Jungkook. You don’t have to apologize. All of this is my fault”

“It’s not… it’s not your fault. It’s mine,” you saw Jungkook swallow. You looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, at the clock situated on top of the side table. Thirty minutes left until Jungkook's birthday ends.

“It’s still your birthday. You shouldn’t be spending it apologizing for something you didn’t do.”

“I am enjoying my birthday because I haven’t lost you yet. And it is my fault, stop fighting me.” Jungkook smiled. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? Especially under moonlit skies.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“Then allow me to tell you now. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful person inside out and I am so lucky to have you. Thank you for not leaving me.”

You scooted closer to Jungkook, trying to fill in all the spaces in between. 

It was almost a whisper and you almost didn’t hear it, “Sleep well my silly, beautiful darling,” your eyes flutter close as you felt Jungkook give you a kiss on your temple— a reassuring one, this time. 

“Hey.”

You jumped at the sound of Jungkook’s unusually low voice. “Shit,” you mumbled, earning a pretty smile from Jungkook. “How long have you been standing there?”

The smile didn’t leave Jungkook’s face as he apologized and said with all honesty, “A while.”

You have been spending more late nights in the studio since you and Taehyung started offering additional classes. You held a beginner’s ballet class for children after school hours and you felt you had to spend more time thinking about their routines. Kids need structure, lest their attention becomes too difficult to get a hold of. Jungkook, being the sweetest, always stayed up to wait for you to get home and eat dinner together. 

This time around, Jungkook decided to pick you up from the studio.

You took in the sight of Jungkook who was leaning against the door frame, wearing a cream oversized sweater and white pants. Even in the dimly lit room, Jungkook’s handsome face was radiant.

Seeing him feels like coming home.

Jungkook walked up to you with his hands in his pockets, “I always get caught up in your world whenever I watch you dance. That hasn’t changed.” He was suddenly standing so close to you that you had to clear his throat. Yet you didn’t pull away, either.

“Time passes when that world is not working in my favor,” you said as you rolled your shoulders backward.

“Is this the ballet class for the kids?” 

You hummed in response, “One would think it’s easy enough to make a routine for little kids when really, going back to basics sometimes is the hardest thing.”

“What did you use to tell me?” Jungkook asked warmly, all innocence and love, but you recognized that tone of his. 

“Jungkook—”

“Help me remember, ____. How did we do it back then? When we couldn’t figure out a new routine,” you heard the heels of Jungkook’s white chelsea boots clatter against the wooden floor as he stepped away a bit from you.

You were taken back to your days in the dance club with Jungkook, the two of you in a smaller studio after school practicing for competitions. You and Jungkook were the group’s best dancers and that also meant you were almost always tasked to come up with new choreography. You recalled how you and Jungkook used to practice no matter how long it took. 

Right now, at this very moment, as Jungkook gently urges you to remind you of those days, you appreciated what he was trying to do.

“I’d always tell you, ‘I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore,’”

“Hm, and how did I respond?” Jungkook’s eyes never left your face and his voice was so low, that it sent shivers up your spine.

“You’d tell me we didn’t have to do the things other people ask us to dance… not right now.” you breathed as Jungkook’s face inched closer to yours, so close that you could already hear Jungkook’s heartbeat. 

“And then?”

“We’d dance. For ourselves, together.” 

Just as the words escaped your lips, Jungkook slightly pulled away to take his phone out of his pocket, scroll through a playlist, the very same playlist Jungkook uses whenever you both lounge around on a Sunday morning. He found the song he was looking for and pressed play.  

Jungkook put his phone back in his pocket and whispered, “We dance. For ourselves, together.” He wrapped an arm around your waist while his other hand trailed down to hold your own, intertwining both sets of fingers. Falling, you easily melted into Jungkook, your worries about the ballet routines already forgotten.

With bodies pressed close, you felt your heart plummet to a deep dive into your stomach, leaving butterflies as it burst into a million pretty pieces. Jungkook was never one for sweet words, always choosing to convey his thoughts and feelings through his art. He had given you plenty of his work over the years, drawn on crumpled tissue papers or on the back of receipts. Always in all honesty quietly telling you he was there for you no matter what.

And through dance, he was the same— loving, thoughtful, yours. 

“It has been a while since you last danced, right?”

Jungkook leans his forehead into yours, his eyes focused on the floor. He hums his response as he starts to lead the dance.

“It has been a while since I last danced with you,” Jungkook whispered. “Dance with me so I remember, my love.”

You close your eyes, resting your chin on Jungkook’s shoulder, “Remember what, Jungkook?”

“Help me remember everything good about you and me.” 

And although Jungkook couldn’t see it, you smile as you tilt your head to the side. You let Jungkook lead the both of you to the melody of the music for a good few minutes until you fell into a slow, swaying rhythm. 

“I missed dancing with you like this,” you swore you felt Jungkook tighten his hold around your middle a little bit more. Jungkook dropped a kiss to your bare shoulder and said with all reverence, “I miss you, ____.”

He misses you, not missed. You never wanted to let him go. 

You didn’t want to stop touching Jungkook so as you continued to allow your feet to be led by him, you ran a trail using your hand from Jungkook’s shoulders, landing on his chest. Jungkook ran his own hand at the expanse of your back, waiting, waiting. 

“And I miss you too,” you said with a smile. Jungkook cupped your face and ran a thumb to your cheekbone. Never leaving your eyes, he responded, “It’s always a pleasure to dance with you, ____.”

“I always seem more eager to dance when I’m with you,” you said. 

And I always love dancing with you.

“That’s because we know each other’s moves well. We’re in sync no matter how long it’s been.”

Tentatively, you respond, “Maybe we should do it again… more often, this time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’ll dance with you forever.” 

You and Jungkook went home that night and slept once more in each other’s arms. You noticed a change this time. You felt peaceful, more hopeful. Jungkook didn’t say anything definitive, still, but maybe his heart did. 

And you fell into a quiet sleep as soon as Jungkook kissed your temple. This time, his kiss was more intentional, more heartfelt, like he never wants to let you go.

Not again. 

You woke up the next morning still reeling from the dance you shared with Jungkook. Always the romantic, you thought as you shook your head. Usually, Jungkook was already up and about before you even opened one eye, but life continues to surprise you. 

Jungkook was sitting on the bed, drawing on his iPad. You couldn’t believe it at first— you rubbed sleep out of your eyes and looked at your own phone for the time. It was 8 o’clock and Jungkook was drawing.

The minute you moved, Jungkook was attentive. He stopped drawing as he turned to you to mumble a good morning. 

“Good morning to you, too. What are you doing so early in the morning?”

“Oh, I woke up earlier—”

Cutting him off, you teased, “You always do.” 

Jungkook chuckled, the crinkles in around his eyes so evident, so endearing, “Yeah. Um… I just— the morning light through the window was just so beautiful and I had to draw it.”

“You drew a sunrise at 8 o’clock?”

You rolled your eyes as Jungkook said matter-of-factly, “Actually, 6 o’clock… but no, I didn’t draw the sunrise, not exactly.”

“Then what did you draw?”

Instead of responding, Jungkook gave you his iPad. You realized Jungkook drew you. Jungkook used digital watercolor brushes to paint a picture of you sleeping with your bedroom window behind you. Sunlight accentuated the side of your face, expression tranquil. 

“It’s not finished yet, I need to fill in some of the—“

“It’s beautiful, Jungkook.”

“You always say that, ____.”

“Because your works are beautiful. Every single one of them,” you couldn’t stop admiring Jungkook’s work. You felt your throat constrict once more, emotions starting to take over. This isn’t the first time Jungkook drew you, but it’s definitely the first time you felt something different after seeing his art— a love that continues to blossom, a love for Jungkook that never withered. For the past few weeks, you felt like you were slowly coming to terms with you and him being just best friends, but after last night, you were starting to backslide. 

You will always love Jungkook no matter what— you know that now. Maybe not in the way you want, but Jungkook will continue to have a special hold on your heart that no one else can replace. 

“Thank you for this, Gguk-ah. Can we print and frame this? When you’re done, that is.”

“Of course, ____. I’m glad you like it.”

One of the things you and Jungkook appreciate about the apartment is the silence because it’s never an awkward one. In silence, you’re both comfortable— awkward and pain and everything else in between. In the shared space, you and Jungkook are free to love one another.

In silence, you also hear each other’s hunger. You giggled as Jungkook turned beet red. After all these years of living together, Jungkook still tended to be embarrassed around you. One of the many adorable Jeon Jungkook traits that you love.

“That’s my cue to make breakfast.”

You stood up and ran a hand through your hair before pocketing your phone. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. You didn’t think much of it, but just as you were about to walk out the door, Jungkook called out to you and scrambled to his feet. 

Mornings with Jungkook more often than not are calm, but when you saw Jungkook walk up the short distance to where you were standing, his gaze so strong, your heart began to race. Because you were standing too close to each other, you felt Jungkook take a deep breath before uttering the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“Don’t leave me.”

At first, you thought you heard wrong. A few seconds later your brain told you that maybe it was Jungkook’s way of saying that he wanted you both to stay in bed a little while longer because after all, it was a Sunday.

But then a third thought came to you, the most dreaded one— what if?

“S-say that again.”

It was physically impossible for Jungkook to get even closer to you. The wide smile drawn on his face made all the difference.

“Don’t leave me.”

Like a bucket of cold water doused on you, you couldn’t believe what Jungkook was really trying to tell you. Your childhood best friend, the man of your dreams. The one person who will move mountains for you without being asked is trying to tell you something you longed to hear.

“Say that again… o-one more time.”

Tears threatened to flow from your sparkling eyes and Jungkook was quick to hold you small face in his hands, “____. Please… don’t ever leave me.”

You struggled not to cry so much upon finally understanding what Jungkook was really trying to say. You wanted to respond to Jungkook’s plea, but all that came out was a sob. Jungkook peppered your face with soft kisses down to your jaw. You found yourself holding on to Jungkook, grip like a vice. You don't want to let him go. You will never. 

Not again.

You tried your best to properly respond this time, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I will never, ever leave you.” You ran your knuckles down Jungkook’s face, “I was just going to make us breakfast because you’re hungry.”

Jungkook laughed at how you could still manage to make an intimate moment so endearing. He held your wrist and kissed the palm of your hand before leaning in to finally kiss you full on your lips. His kiss was tentative at first until he decided to be bolder, silently asking you to let him in. You readily gave Jungkook access to kiss you even deeper. Like wildfire, heat spreads throughout your body— this is what it feels like to kiss Jungkook without reservation. This is what it feels like to kiss your best friend, no holds barred.

Overwhelmed with affection, you felt yourself being lifted by Jungkook and your legs automatically cling to his waist. The position gave him an even better angle to kiss the person he has longed for almost all his life, “How long, Jungkook? How long have you really liked me?”

You didn’t think Jungkook would immediately understand what you were trying to ask, “Since that day I asked you to dance with me under the rain.”

Jungkook saw the look of recognition in your eyes. He knew you knew what he was referring to. “I have always been in love with you, ____. I just… I was so scared of you rejecting me that I thought it was best if I kept my feelings to myself. I tried dating other people because I thought maybe that would help me get to know others better.”

And as if Jungkook could read your mind, he kissed your forehead before talking again.

“I don’t regret kissing you that night… I was drunk, but I was sober enough to know and remember what I said. We broke up because she told me I was always distracted. I always thought of you everywhere we went. She told me I never really moved on… that I still call out your name even when I was with someone else. When you told me no then, I knew it was my fault for not thinking things through. It was my mistake that I didn’t communicate with you better, ____. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a lot of words to respond with, not after that speech from Jungkook so you only asked ever so meekly, “And Mia?”

“I told her we were better off as friends. She took it quite well than I expected. I think deep down, she knew too.”

“Knew what?”

“That I was undeniably, irrevocably in love with you.”

“Do you really have to use big adjectives?”

Jungkook shrugged and chuckled, “Makes for good conversation. I’m trying to communicate better, remember?”

It was your turn to chuckle and lean your forehead against his. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, ____. I put you through so much pain and I just let it happen.”

You shook your head, wanting to let Jungkook know this wasn’t all on him.

“If anything, you have always made me so happy, Jungkook. I don’t get to show you how much all the time.”

“Can we start over?” Jungkook looked at you, full of hope.

“I would love that.”

“I love you, ____.”

My best friend in this entire world, whom I love.

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

My best friend in this entire world, who loves me back.

Your hotteok was already paid for by Jungkook before you even had the chance to pay for it yourself. “It’s all taken care of,” Jungkook said.

Both of you were already hungry from running so you decided to eat right there under the hotteok stand. You could see a black car parked across the street and assumed that it must be Mr. Hong-sik. You both ate in silence for a while, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain until you felt Jungkook tugging your sleeve.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on, ____”

“Where are we going?”

“There!”

You looked to where Jungkook was pointing with his finger. There was nothing there but the school.

“You want to go back to where we came from?”

“Not really. School is boring,” Jungkook mused and before you knew it, you were being pulled in the middle of pouring rain.

“What are you doing, Jungkook? We are going to get wet!”

“We already are, ____! Come on!”

You both had to shout over the steady noise of the rain. You realized Jungkook wasn’t kidding— he was really under the rain, in the middle of the school’s wide, open space, waiting for you to join him. 

“You are insane, Jeon Jungkook!” you shouted, but he just grinned that much harder. He took both your hands and led you to jump and dance in the rain.

“Maybe I am, but it’s fun to dance in the rain with someone else!”

You felt so glad to be living the same time with someone as Jungkook after that day. 

The day you will forever be grateful for.

[yingandzhan]

I felt inspired.

LWJ... Is that you? 🤔

Saw this on Facebook and instantly thought of LWJ doing this after moving house and noticing a tired, worryingly skinny fox trying to get comfortable under a peony shrub in his new garden.

Foxxian can't believe his luck! The next night he visits he finds a plush, comfy basket and snuggly blankets that smell like sandalwood nestled in amongst the shelter of the pink peonies. The night after that, there is fruit and vegetables (green ones he refuses to eat - he's hungry, but he's not THAT hungry). The night after that he arrives to find meat, actually MEAT and it's not raw, it's been cooked. It's so tender and tasty and foxxian can't gobble it down fast enough before he falls asleep all cosy in his heavenly scented bed, curled up amongst the layers of soft blankets.

Just as his sharp eyes slowly began to close, his belly full and his mind drifting off to the land of nod, he could have sworn he saw a beautiful man approaching him, hand lowered to show he meant no harm.

Long fingers messaged that spot between his pointed ears on the top of his head, the one that he never knew could feel so good to have stroked. He can no longer resist the temptation of sleep, too relaxed to care that someone knelt beside him, smelling just as intoxicating as his new favourite place to sleep.

Before he drifts off into an amazing, warm and comforting dream, he thought he heard the man speak. A deep, alluring voice that made his heart soar.

"Wei Ying..." the handsome man all but whispered.

This voice. This scent. This blurry outline of a lithe, beautiful man. So familiar... So comforting...

His last hazy thought drifted through his mind like a rolling cloud in a clear blue sky... Lan Zhan?

[maysrinn]

Despite everything Sejanus was compared to his younger siblings a really energetic little bundle of joy much to the enjoyment of his mother. Whatever emotion he was experiencing it was 120% of it. His little laughs where contagious. His pouts where at best entertaining or at worst frustrating, and his temper tantrums made Coriolanus question his whole existence…not exactly sure if he got from him or his mother…the answer is BOTH. 🐍✨

Since Lucy Gray didn’t allowed nannies to handle situations on their own, it automatically also made it his problem as well. Babies are unpredictable and Coryo doesn’t like it.

While Janus was energetic Xanthos was quite almost deadly silent, which worried lucy gray a lot of times leading for her to check on him every hour, just to see if her little boy was still alive. Sometimes resulting if not leaving his side all together. Rosalyn on the other hand was just mostly casually sleeping her infant months away, and being a bubbly happy baby while being awake, the dream of every parent. Coriolanus definitely approved of that 🥀