#the origin of that familiar tune he and he had followed in

[quinnylouhughesx43]

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[headlinerkwan]

something new - j.ww

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: university!au, e2l, academic rivals to lovers, featuring svt as your friend group, angst, fluff, suggestive - MDNI!!

summary: you and wonwoo have been rivals since the first day you met, everything he did irritated you to no end, and yet, you couldn't escape him and, at a certain point, maybe you didn't want to.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, no one knows how to communicate lol, kissing, suggestive

wc: 5.7k

a/n: wonwoo academic rival bc i love him being all nerdy n shit. i really enjoyed writing this so let me know what you think + if you have any requests for some new fics!! ฅ ฅ

You stare down at your paper, illegible and scattered with doodles and a sharp exhale falls from your lips. Tapping your pen against the table, you wonder how the hell you’re going to pass this surprise exam - a surprise for you at least, apparently telling you must have slipped everyone else’s mind. Someone taps your shoulder lightly, bringing you out of your spiral. You turn to meet the eyes of the stranger sat beside you, his jet black hair is pushed roughly out of his face, allowing you to see his soft dark eyes peer down at you. 

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, clueless as to why he would be trying to get your attention in the middle of an exam. He mouths the word ‘pen’ in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes looking at you with pure desperation.  Looking at his desk, you notice the pen next to his hand is broken. You turn away briefly and watch as he lets out a breath of relief and adorns a grateful smile once you appear with a spare pen for him to use. 

It seems like the bell rings almost immediately once you return your focus to your exam paper - shit. Now you’re definitely not passing. The bell sounds vaguely familiar as it continues to ricochet through you, you rack your brain trying to remember where you’ve heard the sound before… oh, it’s your alarm clock. Oh! It’s your alarm clock! 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Your eyes snap open as you sit up in bed to turn off the irritating tune that your clock had been emitting for god knows how long. It was the first day of the semester, of course you had woken up twenty minutes behind schedule after a cliche ‘first-day-of-school’ dream, what else could you expect?

Arriving at your first class of the day, you find your friend Seungkwan sat strategically in the corner of the semester hall - just far away enough to avoid the risk of being called upon by the professor. You take a seat next to Seungkwan and listen as he begins to rant about his commute. You and Seungkwan have been friends since Freshman year after getting paired up for a group project. Originally, you were fearful that you wouldn’t get along, on the surface you were like chalk and cheese, but you find now that Seungkwan balances you out just right. His bold extrovertism has pushed you to be a little less timid, to actually live and, you like to think that you’ve mellowed him about a bit too.  You wouldn’t mind listening to Seungkwan talk and joke around all day, that’s when he’s happiest so, naturally, you are too. 

Your conversation with Seungkwan comes to stop as both of your attention gets drawn to a loud racket growing a few rows behind you. You follow the noise to find loveable class clowns Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin. 

“Ah, it's just Soonyoung, so anyways…” Seungkwan turns back to his laptop and continues expressing his somewhat irrational love of drive-thrus . You, however, are still watching your classmates, unable to tear your eyes away from one of them, his dark slightly nerdy features captivating you. 

“Kwan,” you murmur, “Who’s the guy next to Seokmin?”

Seungkwan hums, satisfied, “I was waiting for you to say something, always so nosy.”

You huff gently, knowing well enough that there’s no point in arguing with him, “So?””

“Jeon Wonwoo. Just transferred for his last year I guess.”

“Huh weird, I could've sworn I’ve seen him before.”

Your friend scoffs jokingly,  “In your dreams bro.” 

You sigh again, resting your head on the desk sulkily.  ‘In your dreams’, Seungkwan’s words echo. Wait… Is he… your head whips around to glance at the mysterious man again. No fucking way… Jeon Wonwoo is literally the guy from your dreams. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

If you had known back then how much you would grow to dislike Wonwoo, you never would have commented on his good looks that first day but, you guess you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing how much of a dick he was. Since you had met, you had tried, maybe too hard, to figure out what you had done to make him treat you the way that he did. Over the weeks you have watched him form bonds with everyone in your class - especially your friends, and you saw how his smile fell and laughter stopped as soon as you made your presence known. It was if you had physically attacked him, the way that his eyes immediately dropped to the floor once you came into view. The thing that annoyed you the most about Jeon Wonwoo though, more than the unexplained icing out, was his brain. 

You don’t like to brag but you pride yourself on your intelligence, especially in academia. You had worked hard to reach the place you were in now, throwing away your teenage years in favor of ensuring a happy and successful future for yourself. Because of this, you work hard to make sure you’re at the top of the list whenever your exam results are released - improving upon yourself and being the best of the best,  that’s what you strive for. So of course, it came as an infuriating shock when Wonwoo knocked you out of the top spot, that smug look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he walked past  you that day was something you couldn’t get out of your head. No matter how hard you tried, day and night, the only thing on your mind was Wonwoo and how to beat him.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Ok, what can you tell me about Wonwoo?” you are sitting in your campus cafe, your best friend Seungkwan sits across from you as you mindlessly stir your coffee. 

“Why do you always assume I have information on everyone?”

“Because you always do, my favorite gossip.” you reply, buttering him up in hope he’ll give you something, anything. 

“What’s your business with him anyways? Oh…” he gasps “you have a little campus crush don’t you?  That’s why you’re so off around him.” 

“Don’t go spreading false information, Boo Seungkwan, he’s the one who gets cold and quiet when I’m around. Besides, no sleeping with the enemy.”

“He’s the enemy now? Hot.” 

You scoff gently at his comment, rolling your eyes “Just tell me what you know”,  you say laughing. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

As time goes on, nothing much changes between you and Wonwoo. He becomes a fixture within your friendship group with the boys taking him under their wing and as he begins to pop up in more areas of your life, you learn more about him. You learn about his love for video games and cats, you learn he’s a great listener but can speak for the country when he’s passionate about something. You learn he’s funny and even smarter than you thought. It’s annoying that you could imagine actually being friends with him if he was just nice, you admit you might be able to understand the crowd of girls that follow him around aimlessly if he wasn’t such an asshole. Because, despite him joining your friendship group and you - unwillingly - spending more time around him, he still acted so coldly towards you, no matter how nice you were to him, he never faltered. 

“Split into groups of six, no more, no less and create a presentation applying your chosen theorem to the 21st century.” your professor orders. Immediately the students around you begin to migrate around the room, collecting friends for the group project. You turn to your left to find that Seungkwan is already clambering over the seats behind you to reach Seokmin, Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo - all four of them cheering on his show of athleticism. 

“Quickly guys! Come on!” the professor calls out from the front of the class. You look around to realise that you’ve waited a bit too long to choose a group for yourself. That’s when you hear your name being called and turn to find Mingyu reaching his hand out to you with that cheesy grin you just couldn’t say no to. 

“We need the class nerd on our team, c’mon!” Soonyoung calls out to you from above.

“We already have Wonwoo though?” Seungkwan remarks with a mischievous smirk. You quickly shoot him a stern, irritated look as his smile is broken by Seokmin elbowing him in the ribs for a reason you can’t quite figure out. 

A few days later, you and your friends (and Wonwoo) decide to meet at the library to brainstorm for your project. You arrive first with Seokmin and Mingyu and find a table just big enough for the six of you. Soonyoung trails along not long after and the four of you play some quiet games whilst waiting for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to arrive. You note that one of the two empty seats is positioned directly across for you whilst the other is out of view. The solution is clear, Seungkwan will sit across from you, at least then you’ll be able to focus on the assignment. 

Once the pair arrive, you attempt to signal to Kwan, strong eye contact asking him to take the chair opposite you. 

“Won, which seat do you want?” He asks the other boy, and you can’t hold back the sigh that escapes as your plan crumbles before you

“I’ll take this one, the lighting’s better.” Wonwoo replies, making brief eye contact with you before pulling out the chair with a shy smirk on his face. 

…what was that about? And when did he get so cocky? 

Soonyoung clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence that suddenly fell over the group and you thank God that he’s here to take the attention off of your exchange with Wonwoo and prompt you to actually start working on the project. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Soon enough, you find yourself in a quiet bar across town on a Thursday night. Following your friends’ advice you decide to accept your coworker’s invitation to grab drinks. You tell yourself why not? He’s nice enough, attractive and funny, sometimes anyways. Plus you haven’t got much else going on in the love department - no harm, no foul. 

After half an hour or so of pleasant small talk, you leave the booth and head towards the bar to order another drink. As you trudge across the sticky floor you are stopped in your tracks as a man steps in front of you, blocking you from reaching your destination. 

“Excuse me,” you begin, attempting to manoeuvre around him.

“You shouldn’t be with him.” the man says. 

“Excuse me?” you repeat, this time in disbelief. 

“You heard me.” he says, quieter this time. You lift your head to get a proper look at the stranger’s face.

“Of course you’re here.” you scoff. You push past him, shaking your head as you reach the bar. He follows, not giving up. 

“You don’t suit each other.” 

You laugh, God, he’s so infuriating, who does he think he is?

“Oh please, Wonwoo, like you know the slightest thing about me.”

“Actually I-”

Just then your ‘date’ appears, “Is everything ok?” He asks with a slightly concerned look. 

“Yeah! Just a… classmate.” A false happiness lines your voice.

 “Come on, let's head back to the table.” you say, turning your back on Wonwoo who watches on with a solemn expression.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Not long after that, you find yourself at the library with your friends almost every day, grinding to get your project completed. You and Wonwoo haven’t spoken about the night at the bar, not that he speaks to you usually anyways. Instead though, you begin to catch him looking at you more and more often, his gaze burning into you, making you heat up and, most importantly distracting you from your work. 

“What’s going on with you and Wonwoo then?” Seungkwan asks one day whilst you do a snack run for the rest of the group.

“What?” you reply, stopping where you are, astonished. 

“Just saying, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.” 

“He’s trying to sabotage me or something.” 

“...Why would he do that? Y’know we’re graded as a group right?” He says, baffled. 

“Whatever.” you reply, turning into the next aisle, fed up of even thinking about Wonwoo, never mind talking about the man. 

Returning to your friends, they circle you like vultures, picking out they’re snacks. It’s a chaotic free for all and you’re left with a candy bar and some chips. Wonwoo stands patiently whilst the others rob you blind so, once the others return to their seats you approach him quietly, avoiding eye contact and place the chips in front of him. He mutters a small “thank you” and smiles gratefully, watching again as you return to your work. Now he’s just being weird, you think to yourself. You can’t help but be curious about what he’s plotting. 

At the end of the study session, the boys decide to head to the bar to reward themselves. 

“Y/N, you coming?” Mingyu asks.

“I’m good, thanks though!” you reply with a soft smile, finding a quiet night watching Netflix to be a bit more appealing today. 

Your friends leave before you, saying goodbye whilst you pack up your stuff. As you shove your laptop into your bag, you can feel someone’s eyes on you and your face begins to heat up at your suspicion. 

“Wonwoo! Hurry up!” you hear Soonyoung whine. 

“Right, sorry.” 

You look up just quick enough to catch him turning away from you and running to meet with the rest of the group. 

Huh, weird. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

That weekend, your phone buzzes with a string of texts from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wanna come over and play video games?

Mingyu: (Say yes)

Mingyu: Pleaseee, I’m so bored :) 

You’ve worked fucking hard recently and couldn’t think of a better way to end the week than by playing nostalgic video games with one of your closest friends

Y/N: Don't even WORRY, I’m omw

You respond quickly, pulling a bleach-stained hoodie on and heading for the door. 

You’re sat on the floor next to Mingyu in front of his TV. The room is dead silent, spare some trash talk from the both of you as you channel all of your focus on Mario Kart. As a result, neither of you notice Wonwoo coming in to watch your fierce competition. 

You swear you see your life flash before your eyes when he, watching the screen intently, mumbles “Be careful. Blue shell coming your way.”

His sudden words do nothing but scare the living shit out of you and make you crash into a wall. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, heart beating rapidly after his jumpscare, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looks at you blankly, taken aback by your overreaction, “Oh…uh… I live here.” 

You turn to Mingyu who confirms with his lips pressed together in an awkward smile. 

“Oh. Sorry. You just scared me a bit, my bad.” 

He chuckles quietly in response before walking over to the kitchen and leaving the two of you to finish your race (which you still win, despite Wonwoo’s meddling.) A handful of races later, Mingyu’s phone buzzes, ushering him to go and collect the takeout you had ordered. Standing up, he grabs his jacket and keys but doesn’t dare leave before messing with you more than he already has. 

“Wonwoo?” He calls with a mischievous grin, “Come play instead of me whilst I go get the food!” 

Wonwoo hums a response as he moves to sit down next to you whilst you shoot death glares at your friend, who simply mouths ‘be nice’ before slamming the door behind him. 

He picks up Mingyu’s controller and hovers over ‘Wario’s Gold Mine’. 

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, confused “Uh… choosing the best map?”

You laugh, “No no, my poor Wonwoo. This is the best map.” You take the remote from him and select ‘Koopa Cape’. 

“Ooh, you’re so wrong.” he replies playfully.

“I’m never wrong.”

“That’s true.” 

You catch yourself smiling as the race starts. Maybe you are wrong, maybe he’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, hit me with a shell again, I swear to god Jeon Wonwoo.” you exclaim as he surpasses you for the fourth time. He laughs, nudging you gently.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser.” 

You look at him, forgetting about the game, “You don't know anything about me.” you say, under your breath. He turns to you, concerned.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” 

Turning back to the screen, you find that Wonwoo has stolen first place from you - again. 

“Fuck.” you mutter, refocusing on the race, watching as a proud smile creeps onto Wonwoo’s face. 

“Wow, Y/N actually lost for once!” Mingyu declares as he returns with the food, “I guess we finally found your match.” 

“Shut up.” you bark back, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the couch. Wonwoo mutters a ‘good game’ before standing up with a smirk and leaving the room. You scoff at his slight obnoxiousness whilst Mingyu sits down beside you and begins unpacking the food. 

“Are you gonna stop sulking and go get some plates?”

“Ugh fineee” you reply jokingly before getting up. 

You’re completely lost in the kitchen, opening every cupboard in sight hoping to find some plates and cutlery.

“You good?” a voice calls from behind you. You look up to find Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, slightly baffled by your snooping. 

“Uh…plates?”

“Ah,” he says walking towards you, you step back until you’re caught by the kitchen counter. “Just up here.” he continues, reaching behind you to grab the plates. 

He’s so close that, for the first time, you can smell his woody cologne strongly. Your heart speeds up as he places the plates down on the counter behind you, his hands resting on either side, trapping you. 

You look up at him, breathless, as he scans your face. You’re silent, drinking him in, your hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. He lifts his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers against your lips. 

You can only bring yourself to nod in complete disbelief at the sudden shift between the two of you, the magnetism drawing you together. He moves in closer to you, so close you can feel his eyelashes as they flutter against your skin and his breathing grows slightly heavier. 

“Y/N, did you find them?” Mingyu calls from the other room. You’ve never moved away from a person so fast, separating yourself from Wonwoo immediately. You clear your throat, maintaining eye contact with Wonwoo, still flustered. 

“Yep sorry! Just grabbing a drink.” Thinking fast, Wonwoo hands you a can of coke.

“Can you grab me one too?” Mingyu shouts. 

You both laugh quietly as he hands you another. You nod and smile, leaving him in the kitchen and heading back to your food.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

It’s a week before you see him again, your group's last meeting before the final presentation, a chance for you to go over the final details. The meeting is generally uneventful, everyone finally focused on the task at hand. 

“I think if we switch the parts about culture and equity then it would flow better.” Wonwoo suggests.

“Hmm, I agree” you reply nonchalantly because, on this rare occasion, you actually do. 

“What the fuck was that?” Seungkwan whispers to you.

“What?”

“You never agree with him.”

“He made a good point.” you shrug, brushing off your friend’s interrogation. Looking up you catch Wonwoo smiling at you, giggling under his breath like a teenager. You have to stifle the smile that begins creeping onto your face as you watch him. 

“And that is why we believe that absurdism is an essential mindset to have in order to thrive in the modern day.” Seokmin argues, concluding your group project, finally. The six of you share reassuring nods and smiles, you’ve done your best and you’re happy with it, the rest is out of your hands.

As you exit the assessment room, Soonyoung pipes up, “Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks?” He chants pointing at each of you as he does, the group mumbles a variety of agreements. 

“Y/N?” Mingyu asks.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, try something new.” Seungkwan whispers. 

You look at your friends smiling eagerly as they wait for your response, with an exhale and a nod, you give in, “drinks.”

At the bar, you crowd a small table, each with a drink in hand, talking and laughing about whatever comes to mind. You play games, sharing embarrassing childhood stories and weird facts you never would’ve learnt anywhere else. You are having fun, smiling, peaceful but, something’s off. You can feel it. He’s been quiet all night, barely even looked at you. It was annoying. It was annoying that it annoyed you, a few weeks ago this would have been normal behavior but now, it was different, it upset you, made you feel like you’d done something wrong, made you feel… unwanted. 

Being truthful, you weren’t really feeling it tonight. If you had it your way you’d be on your couch right now watching a film. You weren’t gonna go, not until you saw his cheesy grin amongst your friends’, so sweet you could melt. He was the reason you went out tonight. Him, and Seungkwan’s words, you should try something new. You had never felt so overwhelmed by your own feelings, one minute you felt nothing short of hatred for Wonwoo and the next… your heart is fluttering every time your eyes meet. 

During your daze, Wonwoo gets up to buy another round for the group, the sound of his chair moving snaps your focus back to the table but he’s already disappeared. You excuse yourself to the restroom, taking the chance to talk to Wonwoo whilst everyone else is distracted. Standing beside him, his eyes are fixed on his phone, reading some kind of article. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, nervous for his answer - you’re not sure what you’ll do either way. He looks up at you, soft dark eyes taking you in. He stands with an unreadable expression for what feels like forever before he finally opens his mouth to reply and then-

“Wonwoo! Come here quickly, settle this bet for us!” Sometimes, you really hate Soonyoung. 

He shoots you an apologetic look and then, he’s gone, just like that. All the courage you had built up, wasted on an unanswered question. Fuck this. You grab your jacket, shooting Seungkwan a ‘don’t worry I’ll text you later’ look and head for the door. You’re exhausted, tired of it all, you just want to be in your own bed. 

As you walk down the quiet streets, you hear another pair of footsteps catching up to you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You look at him. You’re irritable and know that you’re probably not going to say the right thing but what the hell. 

“So you’re allowed to ask but I’m not?”

“No, that’s not- I… I’m sorry, I never know how to act around you, I never know what to say, I’m always doing the wrong thing but I-”

“Wonwoo.” you interject, “I can’t do this right now. Just… just go back to the bar.”

He doesn't respond, a silent understanding. He doesn’t leave either. He walks alongside you the whole way home, giving you quiet to think, offering you a comforting smile whenever your eyes meet. It breaks your heart just as much as it warms it, that he, despite your outburst, stays by your side when you need someone.

Even if you try to push him away, somehow he knows, he knows that you want him there. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

With the group project over, you don’t see him as often as before, hardly ever when you’re alone. You decide to put him out of your mind for a while, to focus on work and the rest of your assignments. Wonwoo, though, seems to have a habit of sabotaging your plans. 

It started off with simpler things, turning up at your work just to place a complicated order, smirking as he watches you struggle with it. Then on exam week, a bag of your favorite snacks appears at your door. On a random Wednesday, he orders a pizza to your apartment. On your birthday, a small cake. And, there’s not a week that goes by where he fails to visit the cafe, you’ve grown to look forward to his bizarre orders and playful teasing. 

Once the professor announces the end of the lecture, you grab your laptop and walk towards the door where you’re met with a familiar face. 

“Ah, the coffee fairy, what can I do for you today?” you greet him, playfully. 

“Can we talk? I’ll walk you home.” he asks, his voice laced with anxiety.

��Okay…” you nod, curious as to why he’s acting this way. 

Walking through campus, he clears his throat, “So…” he trails off.

“So?”

“So I don’t really know how to say this. I mean, maybe you already know but I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry if I upset you, or hurt you, or made you angry. If you hate me, that’s okay I just-” 

“I don’t hate you Wonwoo. Not anymore, anyways.” 

He chuckles softly, “Well, I just want you to know that I don’t plan on giving up I… I think this is it for me,”

“It?” 

“You. I think you’re it for me. I think it was over for me the moment I saw you.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “And I’m sorry about everything. Around you, I just, I forget how to act, I can’t think. It’s all just… you.”

As he speaks, your face begins to heat up under his gaze, a smile appearing on your face as you take his hand in yours hesitantly, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, he stops speaking, pausing to think.

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t hate me anymore?” You can only laugh at his question as he pulls you closer to him. 

The walk back to your apartment is nice, peaceful even, like this is where you’re meant to be. You turn towards him to say goodbye and thank him for walking so far out of his way. He can’t hide his shyness as he says goodbye, stammering slightly with rosy cheeks. You look at him, hoping for more, but his eyes are fixed to the floor as he blushes. You laugh quietly, finding him incredibly endearing before turning away to enter your apartment. 

Suddenly, you feel his hand reach for your arm, “wait.” he says, spinning you back to him. 

The action happens so quickly, you’re basically pressed up against him, one of your hands finding his bicep to balance yourself. You look up at him, it’s clear that he’s still nervous but he’s doing his best to play it cool, his hand rests on your lower back as he pulls you even closer. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he’s ever known, sends the color to your cheeks and you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. 

His other hand finds your jaw as he leans his face closer to yours, his breath tickling your lips. His soft, puppy dog eyes search yours for consent, and just like in Mingyu’s kitchen, you can muster up nothing but a nod, your breathing getting shallower with anticipation, hunger. 

His lips delicately brush yours, cautious and timid. You kiss him back warmly, he tastes like peppermint and cola, both new and familiar at the same time. He leans into you more, growing more confident as you part your lips, letting him explore you further. You fall into a perfect rhythm with butterflies fluttering throughout you and your grip on the other becoming firmer.

Remembering that you need to breathe, you break away from each other slowly. He rests his forehead against yours, sharing your breathless giggles and smiles of relief. 

“Jeon Wonwoo.” you whisper, still in a daze.

“Hmm?” he hums happily.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Only pretty sure?” he jokes, feigning upset.

“100% sure.” you correct yourself with a happy grin.

“Good.” he says, pecking you softly and then pressing another kiss against your cheek. “I almost went insane waiting for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” 

He pulls you into a warm, strong hug, resting his head on your shoulder before whispering “That it was always you and me.”

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“What’s going on with Wonwoo?” Seungkwan asks on your way to class two days later.

“What do you mean?” 

“Something’s different… he’s brighter.”

“Why would I know anything about it, none of my business” you state, biting your lip to hide your knowing smile. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed!”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, he didn’t stop smiling the entire time he was there, it was weird. He even spoke differently, lighter.” 

You hum a manufactured surprised response as your friend continues. 

“Maybe he met someone, he always talks about that person he’s liked since he moved here, maybe he finally made a move - i hope so I don’t know how much more of his schoolboy pining I can take.” 

Your gaze is glued to the floor as you listen, knowing that you were the reason for all his changes and that he was the reason for all of yours. That he made the world seem new, brighter, happier. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Are you okay? We haven’t talked in a few days.” Wonwoo says over the phone.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my thesis, I feel like I’m never gonna leave this apartment again.”

“That’s okay! I get it,” he reassures you, “talk to me about it.”

He listens intently as you babble about your thesis, humming along, asking questions and offering advice. Whilst you explain the block that you’re facing currently, there’s a knock at the door. Getting up from your laptop to answer it, you continue, “And now, I’m not sure where to go next.”

“With me.”

“Huh?” 

Opening the door, he’s stood in front of you. His dark hair falling perfectly, as he runs his fingers through it, still holding his phone to his ear with a sweet smile and pride in his eyes. 

Hanging up the phone, he clarifies, “take a break, let’s go for dinner.” 

And how could you deny such a pretty face? 

Walking the streets, he speaks passionately as he shows you his favorite spots around the city and you find yourself just happy to be here with him, to witness his excitement with a cheesy grin that you reserve for only a few people in your life. 

“You’re quite the sweet talker, Jeon Wonwoo.” you say, giggling. 

“Of course,” he responds proudly, “How else would I get to have you by my side?” With that he pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you, swaying playfully from side-to-side and holding you as if you’re all he needs with him right now. 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

The elevator dings as the two of you stumble inside, your arms resting on his shoulders. Looking at him with adoration as he turns you gently, reaching his hand out to clumsily press the elevator buttons behind you. You giggle between kisses as you find your balance, clinging onto each other. You hardly notice when the elevator rings again outside your apartment, too busy with your hands tangled in his hair and his palms running across your sides in painstaking seduction. 

Then he’s guiding you out of the elevator, hands still firm on your hips and not daring to break away from you for even a second. He slips his hand into yours, taking your keys and mindlessly fumbles to unlock the door.

It takes mere seconds once the door opens for him to slam it shut and have you trapped against the wall, he moves against you sloppily, licking into you with pure hunger and adoration, a tsunami of lust as his groans echo throughout your body. 

“Fuck. If you’d just spoken to me on that first day, I would’ve made you mine then and there.” he whispers against your skin, trailing electric kisses down your jaw towards your collarbone. 

You laugh in shock, lifting his lips back up towards yours, his cold hands sneaking underneath your shirt as you kiss him back feverishly. “Me? No, you were the one who ignored me.” 

“Hmm” he responds breathlessly, turning you around and leading you to your bedroom. Drawn together like magnets, you both stumble across the room, hands and lips battling for the next sweet taste, the next wanting touch. 

“Look how far…” his lips find yours again, “just a bit…” and again, “of communication can go” you finally manage to moan out. 

“Are you gonna stop talking and be mine now or…?” he whines as you drag against his lips. 

You giggle softly as he lifts your arms to rest around his shoulders, pulling you in by the waist before his soft mouth is reunited with yours.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You could never have imagined that you would come to find a safe space in Wonwoo. That you would eventually know him better than yourself. That the man you loathed, competed against, fought, would be yours. The man whose presence bothered you would soon be the one to hold your hand through good news and bad. That his happiness was your happiness, his sadness, his pride, his love. 

You never could have imagined that he would be the one waking you up on Sunday mornings with sweet kisses on your collarbone. That, at night you would be drawing idle patterns on his chest. That even after waking up from your dreams, he’d still be there holding you. That his touch was the only thing you craved, his kisses your favorite greeting, his voice your favorite song. His gaze and gooey brown eyes which used to irritate you to no end, would soon become your lighthouse in the storm.  You never could have imagined that you would love Jeon Wonwoo.

taglist: @peachytokki @aidanjoon @mykpopficblog @cheeseburgerjuseyo

[kaszuma]

Aera Perennius | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 7 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: soshiro was never one to raise his voice at anyone. But the one time he did, it was because he almost lost you for good.

warnings: Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers, Description of Pain / Injuries / Hospitalizations, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Cursing, Slight mention of self-harm

wc: 9,793

–

note: I finiahed it earlier than anticipated so here you go-- I had such a difficult time writing this because I've been so busy. There were so many changes and the original draft had been scrapped so many times that it almost made me want to give up and start over. But lucky I didn't or I would've not updated in time. So, yay!

English is hard haha and sometimes it hates me and just doesn't make sense when I read it in my mind versus when I read it outloud. Anyways I will be doing slower updates, so no definitive dates nor titles for the next parts yet. But Part 8 and 9 will be back-to-back spicy NSFW stuff (courtesy of reaching 200 Followers. Thank you lots by the way), So stay tuned!! This is not proofread. So if I missed any warnings feel free to tell me. 🫶

–

Sleep had come naturally to you.

The sound of rapid footsteps and muffled yelling had all but faded into the distance as mere whispers against your ears.

Such rapidness did not seem to fit the silence of what had initially surrounded you. The sudden weight of your own body being dragged left and right until your vision blurs. The stark darkness of city skylines transformed into the unnatural shine of the hospital's fluorescent lights; one that made it hard to pick people's silhouettes apart.

And as such, it reminds you of the distant past.

One that was filled with vast open fields, very unlike the corporate labs you had been accustomed with. A stark contrast to the very corners of Japan, in the countryside where your grandparents had established a simple life for themselves. Filled to the brim with rice crops and summer cicadas.

And it makes you reminisce about the short time you'd spend there. On the cool nights after your summer school days would inevitably end. And you'd be dragged to a summer house where cousins and relatives had doted on you.

Such a homeward bound place was a far cry to the bustling streets of Tokyo's Eastern divisions. Which had often been endowed with the familiar cries of loud music and the steady rumbles of heavy railways underneath you.

One that Kaiju had lamented no peace from.

Even in the midst of high-story buildings where your workplace had boasted the use of sound proof walls. The cityscapes nearest Izumo Tech Corporation could not even be muzzled by its titanium doors, of which Japan's Top Secret Bioweapons had been kept. Schematics and all.

You had grown used to such a taciturn work environment.

Your existence is thrown into the small bubble of your private lab. Segregated from your coworker who valued work over social relations. And you had been much the same.

You and the rest of the technicians were far too focused on your projects. Tinkering away at the prototype suits that the company had sent your way. A partnership between your parent company and Japan’s Defense Force. A task of which you and a few others had been selected to create and maintain.

And how lucky you had been, to land yourself a snug spot in the notoriety of the Third Division's wake. The very same division that had boasted the least amount of casualties in the case of a large-scale Kaiju attack.

The very same division where Mina Ashiro had led and mounted into victory.

And you'd consider yourself lucky to have known such an amazing person in this lifetime.

For fate to have led her to you, you'd assume you've somehow accumulated some sort of good karma in your past life. The reward to you had been fresh in this new one. An action that had garnered some godly being to bestow upon you a chance to meet your soulmate.

You'd be remiss with disappointment if you hadn't met Soshiro Hoshina in this lifetime.

But prior to that. Before Ashiro had recruited you into her division, you had little to no contact with the officers on-field. Delegated to the simple task of sending blueprints in and out of Tachikawa's base should the time arise; begrudgingly in the early mornings of every month too.

Back then, you had befriended a bespectacled girl named Okonogi. Who wore a slightly bigger uniform than the rest of the recruits. A quirk of hers which you found rather amusing. She, who wholeheartedly believed she might still grow into the uniform that was two sizes too bigger than what was recommended of her.

And you had remembered the day you had met her too.

It was another typical day in your routine. Delivering notes to Captain Ashiro in and out of bases. Though this time, you had decided upon taking a detour. Seeing the empty spaces of the mess hall which granted you an opportune moment of grabbing some coffee.

And such a detour had led you upon the bespectacled girl. Your documents slipping from your very fingertips. And your other hand, which held the coffee mind you. Accidentally toppling over. Spilling the liquid against her pristine ivory lab coat. Staining it.

Lucky it had not been hot, or else that could've been an accident in the making.

“I am… so sorry about that.” Your eye catches the glimpse of her nametag, stained with a bit of caffeine. Okonogi was what it read. And you were already pulling out a handkerchief from your pocket. Intent on correcting the mistake you made.

“No, it's okay. Really.”

The sincerity in her voice made you visibly flinch. And you had half a mind to just shove her your wallet, a chance given to compensate her for the coat you ruined. But the look on her eyes was determined. Abrupt in the way she had declined you.

“Are you sure? Money shouldn't be a problem. I can definitely get you a better coat within the day..” You spoke with much guilt. And yet she insisted.

“No need, really! It's just a stain. Nothing a bit of bleach can't handle.” She moves lower with a smile, one hand tucked behind her knees as she tries to pick up the few folders scattered on the ground.

“-Lucky it didn't hit the documents! Or the Director would definitely have our heads for it.” Okonogi had surprisingly jested your way. And a small laugh bubbles between the two of you in turn. As if you had known each other for quite some time now.

“I suppose so.” You had spoken between giggles. The sentiment shared between the two had all but eased the tension of the room.

And the brunette had gingerly handed you the pile of documents that had been untarnished. Though, one in particular catches her trained eye.

It was a simple list of materials used for the next batch of combat suits to-be-made. Or at least, that was the pitch you had planned to present today. In the hopes that Mina Ashiro would give it enough attention and send it to command for a much more direct approval.

And Okonogi, who was a newbie at the time. Had known all too well of the budding genius you had been. A technician far too enraptured in improving Combat Suits and weapons catering for strange combat. One that did not conform to the normalcy of firearms which had modernized the era.

And it seems one of your papers in particular had caught her attention. Like a hammer against glass.

It was a series of notes and drawings involving bronze wires that resembled the muscle groups of a Kaiju's inner workings. All built into the combat suit that had been Izumo Tech's symbolic masterpiece.

And its Kaiju plating was as amazing as it was unconventional. Built to last no doubt in the wake of an ever evolving organization.

Okonogi could not help but stare at it. Admiring the artistry and engineering involved in such a concept.

“An idea of yours?” She asks. And you nod in turn. Surprised by the way she did not immediately question the schematics.

Normally you'd be met with strange looks. One that questioned the very ethics of your research for involving Kaiju parts into the combat suits.

But the Defense Force had long since been converting strong Kaiju into weaponry. And applying the same sentiments to a combat suit, should be no different. “That's right.”

“I was hoping to improve the current designs of the Combat Suits.” You admitted. “If it succeeds, it might help our soldiers a lot more. Survivability wise..I mean.”

And Okonogi smiles at this. A layer of irony mixed in with the few laughs that bubbled within her chest.

She knew how fragile lives can be. Especially in their line of work where they had faced massive enemies almost on a daily basis. And a battle of attrition against such monsters? It was never a pretty picture.

But still, it had been a rare sight to see one so dedicated with quality of life improvements. And it was as if Okonogi knew that she'd be able to trust you with such a task.

“Glad to see you working on it! People have been volunteering less and less these days. But if we had better tech, I'm sure our members would increase by a large margin.”

Her assurance made you nod. Already taking the paper from her hands and delicately sliding it back to the rest of the folders you held. Carefully standing as the both of you had come to smile at each other.

“If there's a chance it can save lives. There's no harm in trying. It's just a part of the job.”

“There's definitely a truth in that.” Okonogi remained positive with a dip to her head. Making her rimmed glasses slide gently from the bridge of her nose. A tilt in her head as she next spoke.

“-But, why use bronze by the way? Wouldn't steel or alloy be a better alternative?”

You had looked over to the notes peeking from your file. And a smile is etched on the very corner of your lips. Complacent in the way you had so easily looked at her, as if you knew something she did not.

“There's a saying you see.”

Okonogi tilts her head upward. Who had finally moved to fixate her gaze to you. Eyes meeting with the absolute tenacity and confidence at your craft. “...a saying?”

You nod. “They say that some people should seek things that are more lasting than bronze.”

“Does bronze not last very long?”

“Oh it does. But even in metals, people try to find something much better right?” Okonogi who had paused to think about your words. Had only nodded in turn. Your sentiment was a much more refreshing and positive take than she had imagined it to be.

“I intend to find that material. One that would make a monument more lasting than the lives we lost.”

And Okonogi’s breath hitches. And you had looked her in the eye, with a determination she was sure would last you a lifetime. “Even if that means I have to dissect a Kaiju and use its very skin as armor.”

A bit morbid for her take. But still, she couldn't help but admire your tenacity. It was the same sentiment she'd see with the soldiers. And somehow, it reminds her of a certain someone who was all smiles despite wielding a blade.

“I suppose most Kaiju do have a layer of tough skin..” She jested. And your shoulders shake with a bubbling smile. The start of a silly friendship perhaps, where Soshiro's eyes would soon flicker your way.

And somehow things just started to click into place.

You didn't know if it was fate. Had it been Okonogi or Mina Ashiro that led you to him. But it wasn't until a few weeks later, you had found yourself responsible for the Third's technical division. Overseeing much of the repairs and weapon upgrades needed for Kaiju slaying. And it was in that very same division where you had grown much closer to him.

A strange recruit, scouted from the Kansai district. Where Captain Ashiro had particularly shown a keen interest in. His skill in the blade had been incomparable to his peers. And although he boasted the highest individual body-count when it came to handling melee pursuits. You had once thought him stupid for sticking to a fighting technique that had long since aged from the existence of firearms.

But how wrong you had been in judging him for that.

Okonogi often reminded you not to be too harsh on him whenever the two of you had just so happened to meet. Jesting that you two would've made a stellar couple, had you both given each other a chance. And although you've denied such things a few times before, Soshiro would always take a glance at you as if reading the expressions on your face. Thoroughly investigating the subtle expressions you wore that would've reached his conclusion.

And each time after that, he too would answer for you. A denial. A white lie.

And Okonogi always saw through it of course. She had been there since the beginning. Serving cupid for the both of you.

And when she can, she had always been peppy in her step. Pushing the both of you in a particular direction. Waiting for one of you to make a move. Calculated like masters playing chess on a board. By far you two had been hopeless. If it wasn’t for Okonogi’s encouragement, Soshiro wouldn’t have thought to visit you between breaks. And how lucky you had been to have the girl pry him out of his skittish shell.

It’s a wonder you two had gotten together like this.

You had rarely seen the girl frown or be frustrated over anything. Let alone your own bite when it comes to Soshiro's mixed signals.

So it had been a sudden whiplash, seeing her so frightened above you. Her voice had been unusually drawled and shaky as she repeated your name. Trying to keep you awake despite the far off look you had in the depths of your irises.

Wait.

Why was it so blurry all of a sudden?

Where were you again?

Right.

You were injured. And from the look on her face, it was probably worse than you had realized. The trickle of an unfamiliar liquid slid down your forehead to the very height of your cheek. Where you could’ve sworn a clawed hand had been there to comfort you.

Larger than your own, and definitely plated with armor. Gently grazing the very skin of your cheek.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

It's starting to hurt. The pain on your lower back had suddenly hit you like a metric ton of weighted bricks. Like something jagged and sharp had punctured through you. A result from a bad fall.

“Sweetheart. Keep yer’ eyes open alright?”

You heard a deep rumble from the side. And your eyes pried away from Okonogi's disturbed features. Suddenly enamored by the wine red irises that looked at you as if you had gone through hell and back.

Had it really been that bad?

Last you checked, you were narrowly able to escape Kaiju's attacks. The flashes of its flaky features had encompassed your mind’s eye. And the ground below you had bellowed like a monster’s mouth. Suddenly ripping open as a shockwave had violently lifted you from your feet.

And like a leaf on a windy day, you were blown to the side. Crashing harshly against the window of a boutique. A stray shard puncturing your lower back to the point of near paralysis. And it leaves you barely conscious to see the not so lucky victims that tried to escape the Kaiju.

One group in particular had been crushed by the rubble of a building. And somehow the scent of blood and bones was enough to knock you out cold. Their downfall would’ve made you vomit, had you not been injured and too dizzy to think about it all.

And as morbid as it sounded, you had been fortunate enough to have only been thrown aside. Sacked into a world of pain which had reminded you that you were very much alive. It had been a miracle that Soshiro found you when he did. Despite the slight sprain on his ankle and the sores he felt in the muscles of his arms. He forced himself to run. Empowered to meet with you, ushered by the help of Number 10’s powers.

And like clockwork he was led straight to you. The fears he had once buried deep in the back of his brain had all came flooding through.

And he didn’t know what to do.

…

You heard a few voices then.

Although it was barely comprehensible, you could make out a few distinct ones from the array of shouts. Your name in particular was whispered in a prayer. Begging you not to fall asleep despite the odd temptation to. And sure enough, the back and forth argument you heard between two figures was enough to keep your mind and heart racing with urgency. The look between Okonogi and Soshiro’s face had all been so different than usual that it frightens you so.

But despite the noise, despite the shouting. You heard him in clear daylight. Like it had been the only voice in the room. Isolated from the rest who had rushed in a frenzy.

“I got ya’ alright? I’m here baby. I’m right here.”

His reassurances had blanked when his voice cracked. Desperate like he had been ready to cry. The way your name had escaped his lips was almost hesitant. As if he didn't deserve to call you out. And you wanted to stop him before his thoughts could drift further. But your voice had failed you when you needed it most. A soft cry escaping your lips instead.

I'm okay.

I'm here.

I'm alive.

All of that died the moment it tried to leave your throat. And without those very words. Soshiro's face was left to contort. As if he were the one in pain instead of you. And how he'd wished that were the case.

“Let me through!”

You heard him scream. And your eyes had focused just enough to see Okonogi and a few nurses blocking his pathway to you. Desperately trying to push past them despite the grievances.

The sight had been a blur.

One second your vision was fine. The next you had felt the telltale signs of drowsiness hit you. And you feel the way the pain medication had started to kick in when your eyes had isolated itself from the world. Your body’s exhaustion hits you squarely on the chest down to your very toes. And when you had been dragged to the next room over. Soshiro had been the last face you had seen before separation. Sleep pulling you over until your breath is taken from you in that instance.

Your name had been the only thing Soshiro could say afterwards.

“I said let me through–That's an order from your Superior Officer, Okonogi.” Soshiro had warned her. Voice uncharacteristically deep when issuing an order. It was normally never used in this way. Such a tone was only ever used to command Number 10 when he had been too stubborn to listen.

But the bespectacled girl knew better than to fan the flame. And in retrospect, she out of anyone would understand his frustrations the most. Yet she stood her ground. Gently shaking her head at her heated friend.

“Vice Captain.” Okonogi started. Hands already raised to try and calm him down. And she could see it in his eyes; the way it subconsciously followed the rolling bed they had put you in.

Dragging your bed into another room where only the best medical practitioners had worked on you. And yet despite that, he couldn't find it in himself to sit still. His gut sinking at the mere thought of you getting worse than when he had already found you in. And he was willing to bet Weapons 10 had all but read the blatant emotions he displayed on his sleeve. With or without having to delve into his mind.

He was in utter ruin just from your condition.

“-Please understand. You cannot, in under any circumstances enter the surgery room, sir.”

“To hell with that!”

The scream had made Okonogi frown. And Soshiro had half a mind to push past the smaller woman. And rush forward with Number 10's help. But he stopped midway. Reminding himself that his suit could go on a rampage at any time. And right now, he did not want to expose Okonogi and a handful of civilians to Number 10's war-ridden desires. His deep baritones had instead vanished for more firm ones. Unlike the resentment from prior. Oddly curt in his delivery.

“Move. Or I’ll do somethin’ drastic.” He steps forward.

A threat is a threat, and he hoped that would at least be enough to convince the bespectacled girl to move. Yet Okonogi had known him for far too long to actually perceive it as one. And she looks unfazed by his words.

“Sir please.” She pleaded. “It'll only worry you more.”

Her voice was gentle. Understanding even. It almost reminded him of the way you speak at times. Stern but with a hint of softness when it came to his stubbornness. And how he wished it was you he was talking to right now.

“Just please try to calm down. We should get your own wounds treated first and then we can-”

“Fuck no. I'm going in there and-”

“Hoshina.” The stern voice of their Captain had made them both flinch. And the heavy cleats of Mina Ashiro'a footsteps had gotten louder as she had made her way closer to the two.

“Captain Ashiro.” Soshiro had spoken with a much more leveled tone than he did earlier. Hand raising into a salute as the rest followed suit. Though even in his greeting, his frustrations had still been made entirely clear. And he was more than willing to face insubordination just to get to you. But Mina was one step ahead of him.

“Hoshina. You’re causing a disturbance and deliberately disrupting the medical wing from doing their job--I'd let you run some laps. But I can see you're injured.”

Soshiro had glanced down at his body, a light scoff emerging from his lips when she had noticed the way he stood, limping.

“Patch your own wounds up and we can discuss it later.”

And Soshiro had frowned at the way she immediately knew. A sixth sense perhaps that he had been getting sloppy. And sometimes he feared Mina Ashiro would kick him out of the Third because of it. But Mina made no such accusation, instead her eyes had been understanding.

Firm as they usually are, she, like Okonogi, was quite aware of your relationship with Soshiro. And by all means, she understood his sentiment.

Today had been a jumbled mess. And Soshiro was practically facing the very brunt of it all.

With you as its victim.

“But-”

“That's an order, Vice Captain. Do not make me repeat myself.” Her stern reply had been met with his half-meant glare. Red irises swirling with thoughts before ultimately concluding that Mina had been right. Okonogi too. He'd just been too stubborn to see it.

And for a good few seconds, he finally drops his own staring.

Reluctant as he had finally turned around. Facing Okonogi with a sort of defeated look in his eyes. Uncharacteristic to her as he'd normally be so cheery, even in the face of impending death.

He'd be thrown into a pit. And as long as he was still kickin’ he'd probably end up smiling and joking about it the next day.

This had definitely been a first for the two to witness.

And although Mina had not usually been the closest to Soshiro. He couldn't help but make an exception this time. She'd waive him of running laps, not as an officer. But as her friend. And a stern hand was placed squarely on his shoulder. Gently giving it a pat of reassurance. One that Okonogi would follow up with her own.

“It'll be okay. Right Captain?” Okonogi glanced between the two.

“That's right. I'll see to it personally that she gets the best care. For now, get yourself patched up–That'll be the punishment you get for speaking to your superior officer.” She awkwardly spoke. Though a small reassuring smile had cracked on the face of her usually hardened expressions.

And such a sentiment from both the girls had silenced him before he could think of another protest to answer with.

“understood.” He begrudgingly spoke. His hand balling into tight fists at the possibility that you'd wake up without him by your side.

Bronze was made to last, yet it wasn't exempt from tarnish after all.

“Good. I'll inform you shortly once her treatment is done–Okonogi.”

“Yes?” Her reply had been immediate.

“Make sure his wounds are treated. And, I expect a detailed report on Number 10's latest excursion later.”

“Roger.” Okonogi had saluted. And Soshiro watched her as she slowly walked past them. Entering the very same room where he had not even had the chance to take a glimpse in.

His arms had gently felt the pull to another direction. Okonogi had done well at Mina's request as he had all but dragged his feet further away from the blaring red lights of the operating room.

And the flicker of your sleeping face was all that’s left before he too was separated somewhere else.

A place where he was left to wonder what will become of you. And for a moment, his distinct thought was a scenario where he hadn't met you.

If only he hadn't asked you out that day..things would've turned differently.

Right?

…

Your eyes blew wide open. The strangled breaths you took were caught on your throat as you could smell the bitter antiseptics nip the back of your nostrils. It reminded you of a hospital. That of which you had the unpleasant experience of having to frequent anytime Soshiro would come back to base injured.

Often you'd be on the other side of his bed. A frown on your face as the condition of his health had been on the top of your mind. And each time with a smile, he'd make a joke to ease the tension in the room. A signal to indicate he had been alright. Despite the lack of words you two would exchange.

Habitually it was you unharmed. You left to worry at his bedside.

So it had been a rare sight indeed, to find yourself on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Laid in thin hospital robes. Connected to a needle of an IV drip. The constant flow of medicine made you drowsy and your thoughts jumbled into a mesa of numbness. And if you had looked at the amount of bandages wrapped around your torso you'd surely start squirming in place.

But just when you were about to scrutinize the heavy onset of your heartrate’s monitor. The blaring sound was all but silenced when you heard the familiar tremors of his voice. Smooth and soft, like you had always heard them as.

“Yer’ finally awake.”

You turned to his direction. Bright eyes had met his own which had been as familiar as it was squinted. His irises were more crystalline and tired than usual. Puffy on the corners, like he hadn't been given a chance to get a good night’s sleep between your hospitalization.

And yet, despite the unfamiliarity of his somber tone; the despondent frowns he'd make.

His voice had been the sound you missed the most.

“Soshiro..” You croak out. Voice dry like someone had stuffed cotton down your throat. And you try your best to scoot closer. To move and stand like you had always done when faced towards him. But this greeting would cut short. Hands restrained by firm bandages and hollow tubes that weighed heavily on your skin. And you hadn't realized the mumble of a barely audible whimper from your mouth. One that Soshiro could not miss even if he tried to.

Soshiro noticed the way you had squirmed. Struggling to sit up. Which made him all the more vigilant. And he ends up closing the small leatherbound book he'd always brought with him. Sinking it back on his pocket where you had been accustomed to seeing it.

Walking much closer to you in an attempt to calm and shush you.

“Where are we?” You asked him. And his fingers hesitantly graze your cheek. The same way when you had blood trickling down it moments prior. “Base. The Medical wing took ya’ in.”

His words were oddly curt in delivery. And although the average person who knew Soshiro on a surface level could probably not tell. You were able to differentiate the distinct way his voice had sounded odd. Such sentiments laid rather clearly for you. And you can see the layer of guilt etched on his stiff face.

“Okonogi?” You inquired. And he gives you a nod.

“Safe. I'll call her for ya’ later so she doesn't worry.” and you let out a breathless sigh. Your head slumping against the cushion of the soft pillow. The lingering feeling of glass and cement on you had all been but a pipe dream now. A memory that you'd soon forget.

And how Soshiro wished it was that easy for him to forget.

“How are you feelin? I can call the nurse for ya if anything hurts.” He moves to turn around.

Eyes already searching for the small caller that was given to him in case of emergencies. Though your hand, as painful as it felt, had pulled him in. Weak fingertips grabbing the sleeves of his jacket to refuse him. Your eyes remained squinted as they were sharp despite the fatigue. And you caught the glimpse of bandages wrapped around his skin. A stark testament to the rest of his unblemished face.

“What happened?” You had immediately tried to get up. Alert in the way you had wanted to reach out and inspect his own injuries. But the fatigue of your body had stopped you. Causing you to slump forward and unto his willing arms who had been cautious in the way he handled you.

“Easy. You're still…not well.” Soshiro gently nudged you back down. Hand placed squarely on your chest to ease you into the pillow. But you stubbornly persisted. Compromising by sitting up against the bed's headboard instead.

“That doesn't matter. What's more important is, what happened to you. Are you alright?”

“That doesn't matter? Are you seriously askin’ me that right now?” For a moment you mistake his scoff for a laugh. His hands which had held you firmly had just as quickly left leaving the spot on your skin cold and yearning for his proximity.

Had you said something wrong? This aggression was unlike him.

Soshiro was rarely this agitated. And your voice couldn't help shrivel in meek irritation. Unsure whether you should respond back with much the same turbulence.

“Should I…not be asking you that?” You spoke unsure. And he shakes his head in turn.

“You were dead-still for five days straight and yer tellin’ me THAT doesn't matter right now?”

You didn't know how else to reply. The way his tone had shifted into a scoff had made you double back to glare at his face. For once since you awoke, you truly saw how tense he had been. Gone was his usual suave smile that made you laugh or cry in between meetings.

He had been too worried to focus on that. But you had been too frustrated at this sudden change. That it made your voice come more forcefully than you anticipated. “Well isn't it obvious? I'm worried about you.”

You replied. Your own expression had squished into rapid vexation. And you see the way he takes a few steps back, too far for your touch to reach. And it pained you that you couldn't just stand up and make him face you like you usually could.

“And you think I don't feel the same!?” He spoke loudly. Causing your shoulders to flinch in turn. One he had regretted as soon as he spoke. And yet, he continued.

“You don't think..that I didn't nearly kill myself when I found you bleeding in the middle of that goddamn street?” He pointed out the window.

And your expression had turned liquid at the images that flash in your mind. Imagining how he had found you. His thoughts, his expressions..you could only imagine the torment he felt the moment he found you. Barely breathing.

His breaths came in gasps. Eyes widened so that you can clearly see the crimson of his eyes peeking through. And suddenly you notice the way Soshiro had oddly been so vulnerable in front of you. The quips on your sore throat began to die down when you saw how frustrated–how fearful he had looked in the moment. And gods did you wish you woke up sooner just to comfort him.

“No–that’s not what I meant. I only wanted to know if you were okay. Is it so wrong to ask?”

“Well maybe ya’ shouldn't have asked at all.” He huffed out. Looking away from you with regret lingering on his features.

It was stupid. He thought To get so frustrated over something so tiny. But as much as Soshiro Hoshina excluded the guise of a proper adult. He had been flawed just like the rest of everyone else. And he'd be lying if he didn't have his moments of doubt. Often scrutinizing in the lonely privacy of his home. Where he knew no one would bother him.

That is of course, before you had entered his life.

But not everything was understood between the two of you. Okonogi was a witness to the piles of misunderstandings you both had caused. And without help you two were likely never to get along, habitually falling for the same skittish routine you had played at.

But a miracle happened. With him belonging to you. And you belonging to him.

So why was it that your heart cramped so much? Surely it was not the pains of a physical injury. Let alone a type of sickness.

Instead it was struck by simple bad habits and insecurities. One of which even you had trouble dealing with. And the loud firmness of his voice had made such an impact on your heart that you began to frown. Unable to hold back your bite.

“What is your problem!?” You started. “Listen, can we just please have this conversation some other time. And then we can-”

“And then we can, what? Do you want me to just sit here and forget that all happened?” He had interjected.

And suddenly you feel your brows knit tightly. Eyes feeling heavy from the burst of a headache you had gotten. Of all the times Soshiro wanted to argue, it's the time you had just woken up.

But he wasn't entirely unjustified.

There have been plenty of moments where you had fanned the flames of a fire that should've ended right then and there. Your word choice is poor and your temperament less than ideal.

For as frustrated as you had been, you understood Soshiro's sentiments. And your hands had raised as a sort of white flag. Not needing this fight to escalate more than it should.

Not when you were both injured and all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms.

“-Listen Soshiro, I didn't mean to upset you. I only wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Does that matter?” He repeats your own words. And you had to hold back another jab of acknowledgement. Smart in the way he played his words. It almost made you want to laugh. But this time, your intent came from sincerity.

And his small play of mockery had been a sight for sore eyes, since you had quickly gotten the gist of what he had been trying to convey. Wrong in your choice of words. This time, you correct your mistake. Sincerity and all.

“Yes it matters. More than anything– of course it matters.” You had told him. And you see the way Soshiro’s mouth quivers into a small tremble. Uncanny when he'd normally be so laid-back and sweet when it came to you.

And how you'd wish he just took a breather and relaxed. Maybe take a break so that they could talk things out. Without yelling preferably. But that had not been possible. At least not just yet from the way he replied.

“Well had I not made it in time, you woulda’ been dead. Do you hear me?”

“And yet, Here. I. Am. A witness to your unwarranted behavior.”

“Behavior that's justified because I shouldn't have let you outta my sight.”

Silence had followed soon after. Your mouth gapes for a moment to think of a reply when the words slip past your lips. And Soshiro would note how uncharacteristic that was, even for you. He, who was always used to your quick replies and clever jabs. But it seems his words had cut too far this time.

And he pried his eyes away from you. Chest heaving as he ran a hand through his face. “I shouldn't have..”

He composed himself. Clearing his throat whilst you looked at him with an etched frown on your face. One that he wished would go away. But he had been the cause of this.

He had been the one to make your smile go away. And it somehow makes him feel even worse.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just-”

“Soshiro.” Your voice sounded like bells. And when he looked up, relief had immediately sagged his shoulders upon seeing your gaze blown wide open. Not at all restrained by the pain medication and exhaustion you had felt.

And your hand had gently reached up to grab his own. Gentle in the way her thumb caressed his knuckle which had been previously so bruised and bloodied.

And although there was a struggle to reach for his hand. Your touch was met halfway. Gently threading your much softer skin that would've paled in comparison to a blanket had he not taken glances.

“What happened back there wasn't your fault. We couldn't have known that the Kaiju would follow me back to the shelter.” You whisper. And Soshiro's expression had turned serious. Like he held a weight that you couldn't possibly fathom even if you tried.

“And yet I let it slip away.”

“I let it get to you, and now you're in here because of me.” He had wanted to so badly pull away from you. To walk himself out before he could be tempted to lean back into those pretty eyes of yours. But the moment he met your sight.

Those sad eyes of yours had been his journey's end. And he couldn't do that to you. Not when your expression had frustratingly asked him to stay.

“And yet it was also because of you that I'm still alive and breathing, Soshiro.” You reasoned. “You don't give yourself enough credit. If it hadn't been for you I would've been-”

“Dead.” He cut you off. “You would've been dead.”

“No. You wouldn't have allowed that. You're the Vice Captain, remember? If there's anywhere safer for me, it's by your side.” You didn't know whether such assurances had really made him listen. The way he was assured in that answer of his wasn't a mere fortnight conclusion. It was as if he had been thinking of such consequences for a much longer time, and that alone makes your heart sink.

So you scooted closer. Moving in to try and pull him down so that you could wrap your arms around his neck. And just when you were snaking it through his shoulders. His hands had stopped you midway.

His calloused palms holding on to the points of your elbows as he gently pries you off of him.

Normally this would be met with your pout. Maybe another bout of force just let the stubborn man look your way. But you had been too weak, still healing from an injury you had no control over. And his response is far too swift for your liking. Leaving your arms missing the warmth his body could provide you.

“No, no, no, no, no–no. You don't understand. I don't deserve to be anywhere near you right now.” He had managed to convince himself. Looking away as the anxiety within you had spiked upon his words.

“Soshiro. Listen to me we can-”

“What I’m saying is that we're done here.”

You had blinked. Looking up at him who had towered above your bed. A somber look on his expression despite the daunting words he had spoken. He looked passive. Unaffected even. Like he had been ready for this moment which had been planned for a long time coming. And your voice could only muster a feeble whisper.

“What do you mean we're done?”

“It's over.” Soshiro continued. Not once paying your face any heed. Lest he change his mind from doing you a greater good he deemed correct. “I don't want anything to do with ya’ anymore.”

If this had been a dream you would've laughed at the way he delivered such a sentiment.

You'd somehow suppress the inner workings of your shock and you'd wake up to find the morning documents you promised yourself to do; in the desk untouched where it usually had been.

And by the time you left your room, you'd habitually laugh it off and tell Soshiro about it in the afternoon just to get a chuckle and light scolding out of him. The usual banter that admittedly, had always been the highlight of your day.

But this had not been a dream.

And hearing him say that. Had hurt more than you anticipated it seemed. And your voice cracks before you can even register yourself speaking.

"Is this because you think I can't love you?" The sudden appearance of tears had painted your face. And you had tried to sniff away the bigger ones that threatened to spill over. But to no avail.

And Soshiro’s eyes widen at the telltale signs of your crying. An unexpected third party which had not been invited to the list of things he ought to do. And his head reels to face you once more. Seeing your face redden with a shame he'd never thought he'd see.

"Do you really think that I'm incapable of willingly loving you? Even beyond that fucking sword of yours-" And Soshiro had all but shook his head. Remorseful in the way tears had jerked from your eyes.

"That ain't the point!"

"Then what IS the point!?" Your tears had blurred your vision. And your hand had embarrassingly moved up to wipe it. One that Soshiro had wished to do for himself had he not been so stubborn.

“-What is the point if I can't make sense of you trying to leave me?"

The turmoil in your voice had been made present. One so encompassing that Soshiro couldn't ignore. And as much as it hurts you to scream. It hurt him to see you suddenly cry like this. Someone he associated as being so usually strong-willed, crumbling in a few short words from him. And suddenly, it feels as if he wants to swallow back his words. Mouth churned into regret when he had moved to take a step closer to you.

“Sweetheart, please..I-”

He shook his head. Suddenly finding himself kneeling down in front of your bed. And when your eyes had met his, it was as if his heart had stopped momentarily. Too focused on the way you had looked at him in desperation. Mixed with both physical and emotional pain.

And he had been the cause of that. Regrettably he knew he had been the cause of that.

"Is the idea of me loving you THAT terrible of a concept to you?" you spoke flimsily. Words betraying the tone you wanted to convey. And somehow you felt worse than when blood was unnaturally seeping out of your wound.

And his own body. One that betrayed his own commands, had a mind of its own. Strong arms wrapping around your bandaged ones that had still been healing from the minor cuts you had accumulated. And the warm steady beat of his heart had drowned you back into reality. Cheeks pressed against his and regrettably, soiling his jacket.

Not that he minded of course. Far too focused on wiping your tears away. Shushing you when you'd shudder from the breathless sniffles he'd been the cause of.

"Shit- no sweetheart no. I didn't mean it."

“I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” His instant apologies and regrets had echoed for a few moments. The sudden urge to calm you down had him reeling just to caress your shoulders. Weary of the injuries you were faced with as you cried in his arms.

And the struggling shudders you were faced with had all been too painful to see. Comical in the way he had all but worsened your condition when stressing a healing patient had been the last thing people needed to be reminded of.

Yet here you were, struggling to even cry when every breath would agitate any bandaged injuries you'd gotten. And it had been his fault entirely.

“I'm not leaving ya. I'm right here..” He whispered. And you had forcibly glanced up. Seeing the way his distress had wrinkled those usually foxy eyes. Like he had suddenly gained a keen sense of his stupidity and finally realized that his sentiments were not helping you. And upon realization you couldn't help but feel how silly all this had been.

You would've laughed had you not wasted such excess energy into crying your heart out in front of him. Likely an accumulation from the week's worth of not being able to see each other.

That and other things, which were obvious enough.

But you spoke. Wanting to pick his thoughts apart. Reason with him the next time this may happen. And your eyes flutter away the tears as you had finally managed to calm down enough to ask him.

“Then why? Why even suggest that?” Your voice had been soft. His thumbs move to caress the stray tears away from your face. Even moving to casually use his sleeves to gently wipe your cheeks in assurance of his presence. And you close your eyes at the simple gesture. Suddenly feeling much better now that he had been so close to you like this.

Crap, he set himself up didn't he? And just when he had this all planned out too.

In the wake of your hospitalization, he had planned to leave you. Somehow make you change occupations. Maybe work for a tech company where your life wouldn't be on the line. Where you'd be far away from his life and you could live a happy, seperate life from him.

But who was he kidding? Even he thinks it's stupid. The idea of doing you the greater good.

It had sounded conclusive back then.

He'd likely die young, a Kaiju attack that he had lacked defenses in no doubt. And somehow, you'd weasel your way out and live an old happy life.

Like bronze. Tarnished but long lasting.

But you had seen through his intention. And every right to refuse such a concept had knocked him over the head. A simple shed of tears was all it took for such a carefully built wall to crumble. His resolve in shambles at the mere thought of you leaving.

And to take that away from you. To separate the both of you like that? It felt wrong. And somehow his stupidity makes him laugh.

And the next words uttered had been voluntary on his part. Sloppy but it came out from an honest place. That even he doubted its power.

"Because, it scares me how much I need you. Okay?" He leans in. Head against your own so that your noses would touch. And you could see the little cracks on that smile of his. A stark contrast to the facade of laughs he'd usually give off. And it makes your heart flutter upon such fleeting confessions.

"Just hearing that voice of yours is enough to wreck me. And ruin me for anybody else."

"And when I saw you. Layin' there with that faraway look on your eyes. I just couldn't fucking breathe."

The way his eyes had not once left yours had felt like the first time you had met him. In that room with the Captain watching your interactions.

You had been less amicable to each other by then. Always second guessing each other by investigating the little nuances of your expressions. But somehow, the difficulties in reading each other had not been so far fetched. And the longer you two would spend time together. The more you had an inkling of what the other was thinking. And eventually an unspoken understanding had come between the both of you.

One that required no words to speak. Nor assistance from anywhere else. Just you and him. Nothing more.

"What If I lose you? You're all I fucking have.."

"Soshiro.” You whispered. Suddenly feeling the weight of his words drop down on you upon his realization. And you shake your head in turn. Immediately running your hands on the soft tresses of his hair. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“And what if I did?” He was quick to interject. “What if I had been a second too late and you were killed?”

“-And yet I'm still here. See?” You moved his intertwined hands to your chest. Firmly letting him feel the pulse of your heart. A repetition had to be made in order to convince him. And if you had to do such things a million times, there was no doubt you’d do it a thousand more times.

And his hand couldn't help but press firmly. Gingerly looking everywhere to check your wellbeing. Satisfied when he had settled in your slightly puffy eyes that he had been all too remorseful of when he found it too pretty to look away from.

You leaned in. Pressing light kisses against his cheeks to calm his thoughts. The voice in the back of his head all but silenced. When the adrenaline kicked in, because somehow he found himself unfocused when he caught your lips in his.

It was short and sweet.

Far different from the many picturesque and grandiose kisses he'd read about in books. And far too slow amidst the rush hours of your working breaks. Where you'd snag a few touches here and there just to get a rise out of each other. No this had been far too different. Far too gentle than it normally was. But despite the innocence of such a contact. It had made a more lasting impact on him.

The hesitation implied vulnerability, and without it. You'd be remiss to see Soshiro's true feelings underneath it. And it makes you pull away to rub your own hands against his chest. Admiring the way his uniform had engulfed him warmly in the cold air conditioning in the room.

All that matters was that they were okay now.

All that matters is that they are together now. Is that so much to ask?

“I won't die so easily, Soshiro.” Your assurances had made him perk up. Head still leaning against yours where you could see the pretty hallmarks of his tired eyes.

“I may not be able to know..everything in that damn head of yours. But what I do know? Is that I have unwavering trust in you. And that's the only reason I made it out alive today.” Your voice had made him crack a smile. One that makes you raise a brow at him. Suddenly fixated on the way his demeanor had changed so easily when you had spoken your piece.

And Soshiro, ever the enigma that he was. Had stopped his reluctance around you. Finally getting a chance to relax as his hands slotted its way to the bounce of your cheek and jaw, which he had always found so endearing to touch and look at.

He couldn't help but run soothing circles on your flesh. A habit he might've picked up on when reading a few romances here and there.And it makes you wonder if he had always been this sweet. A layer unknown go you that you'd love to rediscover, if only he'd put down that smart mouth of his.

“I think that was ‘bout a week ago.” He corrected you. His face is as snarky as his comment. And that was enough to shake your head.

But of course, that had been too much to ask. Too far and few inbetween. You spoke too soon.

“Fine. A week ago.” You affirmed. Though this time you had rolled your eyes with a laugh of your own.

And the two of you had simply sat there. Soshiro rocking you back and forth as best he could without risking your injuries. Hands against the plush of your waistline, carefully making sure the stitches were still intact. But the warmth had remained.

This time he had been less distant. More calm and understanding like he had usually been. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Do you mean that?”

“Mean what?” You had blinked with a smile on your face. Sweet as it came, you had a viper that you knew how to use. And Soshiro wasn't ever one to stop confronting it. Even if he had to break out of his shell to ask the harder questions between you both.

“When you said you loved me.” He added.

And he wouldn't be able to miss that pretty smile forming on the corners of your lips. Leaning against him until the softness of your lips had grazed his chapped ones. Though you’d note, it was still gentle. Still his. And still yours to capture should you want it.

“Do I have to kiss you again and prove it?” You mutter out.

“Do you not want to right now?”

And without a doubt did you lean in. Capturing his lips with a crooked smile in between. Soft and sensual. And you had missed this. Missed him who had not gotten the chance to set things right by you.

How long had it been since you had taken the time to really kiss him? Without the rush of prying eyes, nor the responsibilities that came with their work. It was just a kiss, yet in this moment it felt like everything.

Slow and reassuring. Without the need of words to complicate things. It had conveyed everything he needed to know. And when you pulled back, Soshiro could see the pretty pearls of your teeth. Admiring the way your lips had bruised red from how eagerly he had captured your mouth. And he wouldn't dream of being anywhere else in the world right now. Not when you had looked so perfect. Hospital gown and all.

“Does that prove my point?”

He laughs. Something you had always thought to be pretty.

“Maybe.” The familiar trace of his hand had brushed past your hair. Straightening out the few loose strands that could obscure him from your face. And his smile, although back to the usual cat-like facade, had now softened up significantly upon your presence. And you had prided the way this man had looked at you like you had offered him the world.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at ya. I just-”

“Shh..I know.” Your hand had touched his lips. Admiring the way it too, had reddened from your previous kisses.

“I'm tougher than bronze, you know? I'm not so simple as to let a few words bend me sideways.”

“Okonogi tells me the same.”

“And right she was. You should learn a thing or two from her.” And a laugh bubbles between the two of you. He had to remind himself to save his apologies later for Okonogi. For despite her absence, even now she was playing cupid for them. The small voice in his head urging him to tell you how he truly felt.

And without warning. He managed to say it outloud.

“I love you.”

Those words had struck a melodic chord in you. Ones that made you look back at him in temporary stupor. Before finally turning giddy at the way he so gently said it. No remorse. No regret. A fact even she couldn't deface as mockery. When there'd normally be a trick of a joke involved.

And in your quiet smiles held a deep admiration for him. Ones that squeezed Soshiro's hand despite the difficulty of your injuries.

But that didn't matter. Injuries heal after all. And right now, you had been far too focused on him to mind the slowly subsiding pain on your body.

“What's this all of a sudden? You're not joking are you?” You ask cautiously. Though a smile still remained on your face. Far too elated at hearing those words. And from the look on his face, you could tell he had been serious in his admission.

“It's not sudden. I just–” Soshiro lets out a small chuckle. Not entirely sure why he feels so nervous in the wake of your question.

“I meant to say it that day. Before the Kaiju attacked. I wanted it to be perfect for ya and..” His voice stops when you lean in. Cuddling him down as best you could in the safety of the hospital's bedsheets. The understanding look in your eyes had all but told him that you knew. And it makes him think twice about having to explain things to you again. Not when you could now read him so well. Especially in the most important aspects of his life.

“I know. You don't need to tell me twice."

He heard you speak. Though the hint of playfulness in your voice hadn't subsided. A reminder that you had been slowly regaining your strength. And pretty soon, you'd be pulling him down by the collar just to kiss him breathless if you wanted to.

But for now, he was gonna have to take care of you. Take the lead and deal with your smart comments. And it makes him smile knowing he'd get to hear such witty banters from you again. More so now that you were awake.

“Really now? And I thought you'd be happy to have me say it outloud for ya.”

His chuckle had made his chest rumble. And you could feel the pleasant vibration as your head fell squarely on his chest. A roll in your eyes as you had hummed in reply.

“Well…I suppose it couldn't hurt for you to say it again.”

And he would. He'd do it as long as you'd allow him that privilege.

And this time, he too had read you like an open book. Somehow fitting perfectly in the way they understand the other without needing to speak. They needed to work on it. They needed each other more than ever before.

So it was lucky their bonds were more lasting than bronze. And fate had brought them together.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Playlist Love | Jungkook | Slow Down | Chase Atlantic

Play it again...and again and again and again.

Summary: Jungkook's party isn't exactly how he had envisioned spending his birthday so sneaking out with you was the only way he wanted to end his night. Based off of Chase Atlantic's discography. Specifically 'Slow Down', 'OHMAMI', 'HEAVEN AND BACK', 'Meddle About', 'Friends', 'Now' and I think that's it 😅 Pairing: Sunshine f!reader x Grumpy Jungkook established relationship (Written in Jungkook's pov) Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Smut smut and more smut and explicit language ofc cuz it's Chase Atlantic. Jungkook is low-key a dick and hates everyone but has a very soft spot for the reader.

The music that seemed deafening on arrival has become nothing but a hum in the back of my mind, vision focused only on her. Watching the way she speaks, the way she smiles and specifically how tempting she looks in that dress.

"Aye birthday boy, you wanna beer?" one of the many guys who suddenly thinks they're my best friend tonight asks yet again. "Nah man I'm good" I say, scooting over when he goes to sit on the couch next to me, now stuck between him and the couple who have been sucking face for the past ten minutes.

This party although for me hasn't entertained me in the slightest. It's harsh to say but when my best friend is the one who decides to throw it it's more or less just another one of his usual ragers that have become less and less my style since I left college.

"That your girl?" the guy who's name I haven't bothered to learn asks, following my line of sight to her, dancing in a circle of girls that are just as intoxicated as she is, if not more.

"Yeah, she's mine" I mumble, loving the way those words taste on my tongue. "Nice" he drags out, clearly overcompensating for guy talk. He's drunk though so I guess I can't expect an original or coherent thought to come out of him.

As I tune out whatever else he's saying I opt to listen to the lyrics of a familiar song I've heard her play ad nauseam when we're together and I realize I had never fully digested what they're saying.

I don't know if you already know how But girl, I got the feeling that you know now You're buried in the pillow, yeah, you're so loud But I'm about to show you, baby, slow down

Visions of her with her face buried in a pillow entertain me. Back arched and ass up, the pleasure too much yet not enough, begging me to go faster but all I do is slow down. Pressing down between her shoulder blades to muffle her cries of protest since she's being way too fucking loud. Nothing stoping me from keeping a slow stroke going, denying her her release again and again until she's broken.

"Aye Jungkook" the guy calls out, knocking me out of my fantasy and bringing me back to reality.

"What?" I answer curtly, already sexually frustrated from those thoughts alone, leaving me ticked off. "That guy is trying to make a move on your girl" he say. My eyes although hadn't left her, fogged over with the illusion my twisted mind had created leaving me blind to the pitiful interaction in front of me.

I get up from the couch wordlessly and stalk towards the dance floor, weaving through the crowd haphazardly just to get to her and once I do I grab her wrist and pull on it a bit, making her stumble, her back now pressed up against my chest.

"Who's this?" I whisper in her ear, showing a sense of intimacy enough to make the man who had clear plans with her in mind uncomfortable.

She giggles at the ticklish feeling and leans into me once she's realize who it is. "Oh um, I dunno" her speech cutely slurred making me laugh at how much she actually didn't care to learn anything about him.

"Oh! Um what's your name?" she asks, no doubt feeling a little embarrassed and asking just to clumsily remedy the situation. "Jake" he replies dryly, sizing me up now instead of paying attention to her, knowing that he's lost the battle and the war.

"Well Jake, I suggest you find another girl" I say, turning her around so her focus is on me but in true drunk y/n fashion she never wants anyone to be left on a bad note. "It was nice meeting you" she says over her shoulder, his eyes going between her and I, my eyes in response wordlessly telling him to walk away and he does, eyeing the crowd to find another girl who might bother giving him the time of day.

"Hi Koo" she say happily, running her hands up my biceps and shoulders before locking her fingers behind my neck, trapping me in her hold. "Hi baby" I say softly, caressing her face for a second and noticing how warm she's gotten.

"You wanna come sit?" I nod my head towards the area I just came from, the couple from before gone, no doubt getting that room they should've gotten half an hour ago. "No, dance with me" she slurs, dragging out the first word, pulling me closer to make a point. My hands now placed on her hips while she gets lost in the music again.

Girl, just scream it out Tell me what you're thinking No, I wanna see you undress now I wanna hear you confess now

"You having fun" I ask, amused at how adorable she's acting, a dazed giggly mess. "Mhm so much fun. Are you?" she asks, not wanting to be the only one of us enjoying ourselves since technically it is still my party. "I am but I'd rather get outta here" I confess, having had fun at the beginning but this past hour or two has been excruciating, nursing my water to make sure I'm good to drive us home while watching her tease me without even knowing it.

"But my friends just got here" she says, gesturing to some people who had been here for long enough. "All of your friends have been here for so long. Which means we've been here for way too long " I argue and she shakes her head before realizing how bad of an idea that is, clearly having made herself dizzy from the way she stumbled, resigning to a pout instead.

"Don't look at me like that" I chuckle, kissing her pouty lips which she responds to right away, her clumsy kisses tasting like the many drinks she's had tonight. "What are my friends gonna think if we leave so early? It's your birthday" she asks, not realizing it's well past two am.

"I'm sorry to say this babe but I don't give a fuck about your friends right now" I whisper in her ear, my words making her shiver. "I'm sure what I've got to offer you tonight is a lot better than what they can give" I say, kissing her neck to prove my point leaving her humming in contentment.

"Lemme finish up my bottle then we'll g-go" she says and I chuckle while pulling back to look at her. "Do you even know where it is?" I cock a brow and when she opens her mouth to respond her brows soon furrow in confusion. "That's what I thought" I say and when she goes to protest I cut her off.

"You're not drinking what's in that fucking bottle y/n even if you did find it" and she closes her mouth, her pupils dilating just the slightest bit telling me that she's fully ready to listen now.

"Go get your stuff" I say patting her ass twice before spinning her around and encouraging her to lead the way. She refused to give me her things at the beginning of the night, claiming she needed her lipstick or whatever so she better know where it is or we're leaving without it.

I don't have time to fuck around right now when I notice how high her dress had ridden up her thighs, leaving me following very close behind.

She finds her purse and double checks for her phone that's luckily in there too and before she can start saying goodbye to anyone I'm dragging her out of the house. "You guys sneaking out of your own party?" one of the guys who's smoking a cigarette by the front door asks.

"Yeah can you tell everyone we left? If they even bother to notice" I ask, helping her clumsily walk down the front porch steps. "I'll tell em, Happy Birthday dude" he says and at that we're walking to my car with y/n slurring out a goodbye for the both of us.

"Why do you wanna go home early?" she pouts, dragging out the last syllable while I help her down into the passenger seat. "I don't like partying like that anymore. Plus it's already two am so I'm pretty sure we've stayed long enough" I inform her but she's still not one hundred percent convinced.

"But it's your birthday! I thought we were gonna take an Uber home?" she asks, now confused and a little concerned. "I stopped drinking a couple hours ago so I'm fine. I'd never put my girl in danger like that" I assure her, caressing her cheek for a second when she leans into my touch, retracting it and putting her seatbelt on a moment later.

"You okay?" I ask, checking her out...for safety reasons of course, but those bare thighs are making it so much harder to keep my thoughts to myself. "I should've let you have fun" she sighs, regretting not offering to be the DD this time.

"It's okay baby, let's just get home yeah?" I say and she nods, her lips still very much pouted in remorse for her choices. "Better suck that lip back into your mouth or I'll make you suck something else" I warn and she listens right away, knowing I'll make good on my promise and I smile when I see her rubbing her thighs together. "Good girl" I rasp and close her door before rounding the car to my side.

~~~~~

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asks after we've been driving on the highway for a while, taking sips from the water I bought her. "It's not over yet" I smile, looking over and seeing she's starting to sober up...barely. "But it's past midnight" she says and I shake my head. "It's not over yet since I still haven't gotten to unwrap my gift yet" I say scanning her body but she tilts her head at me.

"But I already gave you your present" she says, brows furrowed and completely oblivious to what I'm thinking. "Yes you did baby and it was a very nice gift but I'm not talking about that" I say, thinking she'll understand this time but with her still coming out of her drunken state she's not the sharpest tool in the shed just yet.

"What do yo-" she starts but cuts herself off when she feels my hand that's been on her thigh slide just the slightest bit higher and she flutters her lashes, sobering up just a bit more at the implications of my action.

"Is that okay with you" I ask, rubbing circles on her inner thigh to reassure her that it's her decision. We're both comfortable having drunk sex together but she knows she can always say no.

She stares down at my hand for a while, no doubt lost in a similar daze I had been in at the party not too long ago. "It's okay you don't have to answer now. Drink some more water and you can decide when we get home" I say, sliding my hand to rest just above her knee so she don't feel too much pressure.

After a couple of minutes of her contemplative silence I glance over and see that she's smiling to herself, a clear sign that we're both getting what we want tonight but I decide to take my hand off of her leg, opting to grab my phone and put on her playlist, the one that I've realized leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once we hit the first chorus I realized that this is the perfect one to get her to realize what I've been thinking about since we got in the car. From the way she changes her posture and glances over at me I know it's only a matter of time and when the second verse hits she's rubbing her thighs together again.

Bend it over slow 'cause daddy I know how you like it Backseat of the 'Rari pullin' over just to ride it

"You okay?" I ask her, noticing how she's bouncing one of her legs up and down, a usual nervous habit of hers but in this case it's to give herself some stimulation and we both know that. She nods and clears her throat to get rid of any nervous tone that no doubt would've come out of her and opts to nod.

"Okay" I smirk, going back to driving but I place my hand on her thigh again, stopping her ministrations and making her just as impatient as I've felt since that fucking song at the party...literally.

Hit one-fifty on the dash, I bent the corner Then she bent it for me sideways, uh I might have to fuck her on the highway, yeah

"Pull over" she mumbles and I smirk, thanking the artists on this song but making her say it again. "What was that? I couldn't hear you baby" I taunt, sliding my hand further up her thigh and squeezing it to reassure her since I know she's embarrassed.

"I said pull over" she commands which takes me by surprise but I do as she says, opting to take the next exit instead of the very reckless suggestion from the lyrics.

Once I get off the highway I find a secluded parking space in an otherwise completely vacant lot and turn off the car.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about?" I tease, turning my whole body to face her and the next second she's unbuckling her seatbelt and yanking on my collar to smash her lips against mine. Lips, teeth and tongue clashing, kissing each other breathless until she has to pull away, chest heaving and her bottom lip already starting to swell.

"We can wait until we get ho-" "No!" she interrupts me, her eyes opening with a glazed over look from arousal and her slightly intoxicated state. "No I wanna do this. Here. Now" she says, pulling me in for another kiss and I reciprocate it, my hands feeling for my own seatbelt to get it off of me.

I hold her face in place with one hand while the other is grabbing onto her forearm, pulling her over to to sit in my lap and when she gets the message I start pushing my seat back to make room for her but she still ends up landing her ass on the horn, making her bite my lip in surprise.

"Shhh" I chuckle, guiding her hips to sit on my lap instead, "You sure you're okay?" I tease, sliding my hands up her bare thighs, my fingers just barely slipping under the hem of her dress in case she says no.

She wanna fuck me, okay? She wanna know how it tastes

"Yes" she groans, clearly frustrated with me asking her again, shutting up any questions of doubt when she starts to unbuckle my belt.

"Someone's extremely impatient huh?" I say while she unbuttons my jeans, leaning back in my seat and lifting my hips for her so she can slide my jeans and boxers down, spitting on her hand afterwards and wrapping her hand around my dick, stroking it up and down at a lazy pace and taking control.

I hum and lay back, my eye half lidded and watching her as she takes special care to pay attention to what she's doing. "Feel so good" I encourage her, wanting to get her attention so she'll look at me, her lashes fluttering before she does, her bottom lip between her teeth from concentrating too hard.

"Come here" I say, caressing her face and tugging her lip free before kissing her, this time at a slower more sensual pace that matches the way her hand is stroking my length up and down, up and down.

"Fuck you're so good to me" I curse when her thumb runs along my tip, pulling away from her lips and kissing down her jaw to pepper kisses along the column of her neck, sucking marks into her skin when her hand tightens on my length and starts picking up the pace.

I groan against her skin and bite down to muffle the sound of any others coming after that but once I get too close I tell her to stop. "S-shit wait, wait" I say and she does, taking her hand off and looking at me, concern written on her face but I clear my throat and answer the question that's clearly written all over her face.

"Wanna fuck you" I say and slide my hand all the way up her dress, going to press against her clit and realizing there's no barrier. "You're not wearing anything under this?" I ask, raising my brow and getting the answer myself when I'm able to put a finger inside her. 

I pump it in and out until she starts to ride my fingers, adding another one but making her do the work. She shakes her head, resting both of her hands on my shoulders to keep her balance.

"T-took them off when you got me the w-water" she stutters, admitting to what she did when I went inside of the gas station. "You little minx" I chuckle, adding another finger and making her clench around them, a yelp coming out of her when she sinks back down, not expecting the stretch just yet.

"Thought it would be easier for when we got h-home" she explains, the innocence in her tone contradicting the way she's using my fingers to get off. "You we're trying to make it easier for me to fuck this pussy as soon as we got home. Didn't know you were as eager to get fucked as I was to fuck you" I hum, loving the way I've trained my girl.

I take my fingers out of her and she whimpers in protest. "Patience Princess" I scold, grabbing her hips so she'll hover over my length, taking one hand off to help line up with her entrance. She looks at me and my eyes flicker down to where she's hovering and when she starts to lower herself down she rests her forehead against mine, squeezing her eyes shut while her nails dig into my shoulders.

She lets out a whine and I can tell that the stretch is starting to burn from the way her walls are sucking me in. I hiss when she clenches around me, sensitive from denying myself of an orgasm in favor of prepping her to fuck sooner.

"It's okay baby, s-slow down" I stutter, nudging my nose against hers and grabbing her hips to stabilize her, gripping them so hard that my fingers will have left bruises for her to see in the morning. Her breathing is shaky when she takes in more, her pussy wrapped around my dick like it was made for me. 

"Just like that, doing so good for me" I say, brows pinched together when she clenches around me again, praise always having this effect on her. "Gonna be good and ride me on your own or you want me to help you?" I ask, tilting her chin up since her eyes have been focused on where we're connected, me being balls deep inside of her while she controls her breathing until she's comfortable. 

"Wanna be g-good" she stutter, her hands bracing herself on my shoulders before lifting her hips a bit, sinking back down on me before repeating the motion, her movements getting more bold as she finds her rhythm. 

Her tits bounce in front of me, adding another layer to this erotic scene but I need to get this dress off of her so I can see them, the top part basically slipping off already because of the strapless nature and the rumbled state it's in from not having more space to move around.

I slide it down and immediately place my mouth on one of her tits, grabbing the other one and toying with her nipple making her yelp in surprise, her mind focused on keeping a steady rhythm and forgetting that I'm able to explore her body while she does so. 

"It's okay baby keep going. Doing such a good job riding me" I coach her, placing a kiss on her open mouth, her face looking so fucked out already. "Fuck you're gorgeous" I groan, pulling her back into a deeper kiss, her gasping against my lips when I buck my hips into her.

"J-jungkook" she stutters, my name sounding so forbidden on her lips, little sounds of pleasure following, soon replaced with sounds of frustration. "Does baby want some help now?" I ask, running my thumb along her bottom lip, her lip gloss replaced with the swollen color sucked into it. 

She nods her head and shyly admits her need for me to take over, the sight endearing if she didn't have my cock buried deep inside her.

Gripping her hips again and urging her to move I lend my strength to keep the momentum going leaving both of us unable to hold back sounds of ecstasy. The squelching sound from the way her dripping wall suck me in making it hard for me to keep going. 

The thoughts of my cum dripping out of her and making an even bigger mess as she rides me being too close...too attainable to hold back for much longer. 

"Just like that, you're doing so well. Riding me and giving me such a pretty view. The only gift I fucking care about" I curse, the sight of her with her mascara running and her lashes damp from the pleasure being too much for her, mouth letting out unrestrained moans as she gets closer being just enough for me to hit that climax. 

"Baby you c-close? Fuck" I groan feeling her clench again, the sensation almost being my undoing. She nods her head and smashes her lips against mine, bringing me into a sloppy uncoordinated kiss, making me swallow her moans as the both of us finally come undone. Pleasure washing over us in waves as her walls flutter around me, the feeling of my cum dripping out of her being so disgustingly forbidden it's making me want more of her again. 

"Did so good for me" I soothe while rubbing her back as she lays against my chest, her mind no doubt still up on cloud nine from the way I felt her body reacting to me. "Made me feel so good" I whisper, kissing her temple and waiting for her to come back down to earth. 

"Baby?" I ask while feeling her relax into me, nuzzling her face into my neck. She hums in response before sitting up, making me hiss from the sensation, still sensitive from how well she rode me, my dick still very much buried inside of her. 

"You ready to go home?" I ask, wiping off some of the black tears that have almost slowed to a stop off her cheeks. She hum again and starts to fix her dress, getting off my lap and making herself whine from the loss of feeling full.

I tuck myself back into my jeans and then reach into the backseat and grab the hoodie I had back there and place it on her lap. She smiles sheepishly and slips it over her head, her body now enveloped in my scent with hers still very much all over me.

"Drink some more water" I say, picking up the bottle I got her so she can hydrate some more after the number she did on me. I put her seatbelt on her while she does as I ask, making sure she's fully secure before I fix my seat and put mine on as well. 

"How do you feel about your birthday now?" she rasps once we've gotten back on the highway, a lazy smile on her face while she admires me. "Like I said...it's not over yet"

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[mrmeowski]

˚✦𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭✦˚

Synopsis: It was a simple question—in your eyes at least, but apparently not for him. He took it personally and it went quickly out of hand. Now you have to face the consequences of him taking it to heart rather than answering it like a normal person then again, he never was normal.

CW: Suggestive

Pairing/s: Solomon x GN.Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

It had been an exceptionally demanding day for Solomon, filled with myriad responsibilities and arcane studies. As the evening descended, casting an ethereal glow over the House of Lamentation, he found himself longing for your comforting presence. Yet, as he strolled past the imposing structure, your familiar figure was conspicuously absent. He sighed, a twinge of disappointment shadowing his features. Perhaps you had returned to Cocytus Hall earlier than usual, and he had just missed you. Deviating from his customary path, he meandered alone beneath the silvery moonlight, its gentle illumination guiding his steps.

The ancient door of Cocytus Hall groaned in protest as he pushed it open, the sound reverberating through the timeworn corridors. This grand, desolate place was home to only the two of you, and in truth, he preferred it that way. It meant he could savor your company without interruption, a rare and cherished luxury.

"[Name]..?" He called out, his voice resonating in the stillness as he shrugged off his coat, draping it over his arm.

The dynamics between the two of you often brought to mind a couple deeply intertwined, bound by an unspoken understanding and shared moments. The mere thought of it painted a tender smile across his lips, igniting a spark of hope that one day, he might place a ring on your finger, solidifying the bond you already shared.

"Sol, I'm in here!" Your voice echoed from the depths of the hallways, originating from the direction of your room.

Guided by your call, he navigated through the labyrinthine passageways until he reached your door. He paused momentarily, savoring the anticipation before gently pushing it open. There you were, a vision of comfort and familiarity, enveloped in a serene atmosphere that instantly put him at ease.

"Long day?" You asked, your eyes reflecting concern and warmth as you looked up from your book.

He nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, "You could say that. But seeing you make it all worthwhile." You smiled, patting the space beside you on the bed.

"Come, sit with me. I have a favor to ask of you." He settled down next to you, his cheek gently resting on your shoulder.

The warmth of his presence was comforting, a familiar solace after a long day.

"What is it..?" He inquired softly, his curiosity piqued.

Taking a deep breath, you could hardly contain your excitement.

"While I was out today, I heard a song... It caught my attention," you began, trying to stifle a laugh. "I can't remember the lyrics—it was barely audible—but I do know the tune." His eyes met yours, intrigued.

"Why not hum it to me? I might recognize the song." You grinned, knowing you had him hooked.

"Alright, but I need to warm up my vocals first, I don't want to mess this up!" His laughter was light and carefree, his gaze tracing the contours of your face, cherishing every feature. To him, you were perfect, imperfections and all.

After a mock preparation, you began, "It goes like this... nanana naaa na na, nanana naaa na na." Even without looking, you could sense the swift change in his demeanor, his smile faltering.

The tune was unmistakable—a song he'd encountered numerous times but preferred not to speak of.

He sighed deeply, standing up. But you weren't about to let him escape so easily. You followed him, singing playfully, "Don't you dare walk away and desert meee... Come back hereee, you sorcereeer." He turned to face you, your innocent smile meeting his exasperated expression.

"Happy now?" He asked his tone a mix of resignation and amusement. You nodded enthusiastically. "Well, that makes one of us. You know.. I'm this close to cursing you!" He warned, lifting his hand, his fingers forming an 'o' sign with the thumb and index finger almost touching.

You gasped theatrically, placing a hand over your heart in mock shock, "You don't mean it, do you?"

"Hmph!" He huffed, turning on his heel and striding purposefully down the hallway toward the living room.

"Hey now! Don't tell me you're that upset!" you called after him, laughter bubbling up. "Come ooon, you should have seen it coming! It is the day, y'know?" You paused by the doorway of the library, arms crossed as you watched him glance back at you, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"'The day'? What are you talking about?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, until realization dawned on him. "Ah... I see. July 27th, the... song's release." He spat out the word 'song' as if it had personally offended him and his entire bloodline.

"Bingo!" You exclaimed, grinning widely.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Sometimes you're so childish... and cringeworthy." He turned away once more, heading deeper into the library.

"Excuse me?! Now, I might accept the latter, but... childish? Really now?! I'm not the one getting all worked up over a harmless prank, a joke, whatever you want to call it!" You threw your arms up in exasperation.

"Well, I'm glad you're at least self-aware." He pulled a random book from the decaying bookshelf and plopped down onto one of the dusty couches, a cloud of dust rising as he sat.

"Hey, don't just ignore the rest!" You marched over, standing in front of him with a huff. One glance at the book cover made you scoff as you sat down beside him. "So you're just going to ignore me now?"

Silence.

He stared blankly at the book, his eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

"Well, fine then." You turned away, casting a quick sideways glance at him before adding, "Oh, and by the way... the book's upside down." He blinked a few times as if snapping out of a trance.

"Ahem..." He coughed, hurriedly adjusting the book to the correct orientation.

The silence stretched on, an unspoken tension lingering between you. He occasionally flipped a page, but you doubted he was truly reading. The stillness was becoming unbearable, and with a resigned sigh, you turned to him.

"You know what, fine! I'm sorry, Sol." The words felt strange on your tongue.

Apologizing for such a harmless prank seemed ridiculous, especially when he, of all people, was the one acting childish. He glanced at you briefly before his gaze returned to the book.

"That's not enough," he said, his voice cold and cutting.

It was a tone you had rarely heard from him, one he usually reserved for when he was truly angry. For a moment, you were taken aback. The seriousness in his voice made you laugh nervously. Either he was genuinely upset, or he was being overly dramatic, which he had a penchant for.

"Not enough, huh?" You remarked, crossing one leg over the other. "Then what exactly do you want?" He grinned mischievously, closing the ancient, decrepit book and resting it on his lap.

"I want to cook for you."

"What..?" You blinked, unable to mask the horror in your voice.

His culinary skills were practically a biohazard. A single bite will send you to meet your maker.

"I said I want to cook for you," He repeated, his smile disarmingly innocent. "Lately, you've been avoiding my offers! Always suggesting eating out or claiming you're 'full'. It hurts me, you know... I just want to do something nice for my charming apprentice, hmm?"

"No!" You blurted out, recoiling at the thought.

"Hm..?" His smile faltered slightly, and you hurriedly continued, trying to salvage the situation.

"I-I mean... you could think of something else! Like... um... I'll do anything you desire! Just not involving the brothers or your cooking!" You were desperate to avoid his culinary experiments. "I just.. d-don't want to add to your workload. You've already had such busy days, and now you want to cook instead of resting?" He hummed thoughtfully, mulling over the idea.

"Even on the harshest of days, I'd do anything for you... but your suggestion," he said with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "When you say anything, do you truly mean it?" You nodded earnestly.

"Yes! No matter how ridiculous it is—just don't involve the brothers." He tapped a finger to his chin, pondering your words. "So, deal or no deal?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he met your gaze.

"Deal," he replied, his tone filled with playful promise. "But remember, you agreed to anything."

"Yeah, uh-huh. So how will you abuse this newfound 'power' of yours, hmm?" You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit uneasy, and starting to regret your decision.

He hummed thoughtfully, "There are so many things I desire you to do..." His voice had dropped to a lower, more suggestive tone, and his eyes roamed over you in a way that made you squirm. "But I guess... first, you should probably text everyone that you're sick today and won't be able to come out. After all, I don't want anyone bothering us..." Your brows furrowed at his suggestion.

"When you say everyone, that includes the brothers and the demon prince," you sighed. "I told you, they're excluded!"

"Ah, but I only speak of possible plans... not directly involving them," he teased, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Still! It's about—"

"If you're not going to do it, then we shall revert to plan A. You know... I have so many dishes I want you to try!" He smiled innocently, seemingly unaware of how your skin paled at the thought.

"Haha! Of course, I'll do it!" You exclaimed, laughing nervously.

His smile widened, clearly pleased. "Good. Now, let's get started with our day."

You quickly pulled out your D.D.D. and sent a message to everyone, claiming you were feeling unwell and needed to rest. The replies came in swiftly, full of concern and well-wishes, but you barely registered them.

"Alright, done," you said, putting the D.D.D. away. "So, what's next on your agenda, oh master of mischief?"

"That nickname rolls off your tongue smoothly, doesn't it? I would've loved it if not for the last few words." The he old book slipping off his lap as he shifted his body towards you, hovering over you with predatory grace. A hand moved to your cheek, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down to your jawline. "Mind removing the extra words? I'd love to hear it more... in our room." Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestive tone in his voice, and you felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine.

"Solomo—"

"Solomon?" He swiftly cut you off. "Didn't I tell you to call me something else?" You gulped hard.

You had only ever heard the brothers call you this, but actually saying it yourself... You had no choice; it was either this or certain death.

"You really love to tease me... m-master..." Your voice grew softer with each word, barely above a whisper.

"I don't think I heard you, my dear apprentice," he said, his tone insistent yet gentle.

You swallowed again, nerves getting the better of you.

"You really love to tease me, master," you repeated, louder this time, the word feeling foreign yet thrilling on your tongue.

"That's better...~" He purred, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now, let's take this to our room, shall we?"

Once in your shared room, he gently laid you down on the soft mattress, still hovering above you. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke in a low, intimate tone. "I've been waiting for this moment," he murmured, his lips trailing a line of kisses along your neck. "To have you all to myself."

You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

"I never knew you had such a side to you..." You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, "There's a lot you don't know about me," he replied, his voice husky with desire. "But we have all the time in the world to explore."

Sorry for this dumpster fire

Request» Masterlist»

*•.𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃.•*

[daisystwistedgarden]

a/n: watched sleeping beauty for the first time today and had this idea

you've met him before.

you can feel it coming-- only once, the first time, had you ever been caught off guard. you always find yourself in the same forest clearing. the small chitters of animals accompany the gently sway of the trees. the sky is sunny, but you can never quite see the sun from where you stand. wandering too far into the hazy gray ether on the edge of the open glade led your feet back to the same spot where you found yourself originally.

the birds sing their song. you, too, find yourself humming along. the words are foreign to your mind, but not your tongue, as you utter a tune too familiar to be unknown entirely.

i know you, i walked with you once upon a dream...

you tend to busy yourself with whatever seems most enticing. boredom seldom finds you here, regardless of how many times you open your eyes to find the same tree line sprawled out before you. the animals here do not seem to fear you as they would in the world you know-- instead, they weave between your steps and follow your movements with a grace too easy to be natural. fear seldom finds you here, either.

i know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...

your voice continues to carry through the trees, no matter how quiet you find your words. neither do they seem to waver when you realize you're not truly alone.

yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem...

most days, he joins you in ways that keep him hidden from your sight. a deep baritone voice melds with yours as you recite lyrics you can't quite predict-- a figure's shadow lingers just foggy edge of the glen. vivid green eyes peer from between the leaves of a nearby treetop while you crouch to pluck ripe berries fresh from the bush. you're always careful to watch for the thorns you can't see. on the days you find yourself swept up in some invisible music, captured in an aimless waltz, you feel a presence behind you guiding you through the steps with a poise ingrained in each blade of grass, each pleasant breeze and each leaf clinging to every branch.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. the strange baritone is closer now. smooth. too smooth. an icy cold blooms across the side of your neck, glacial in the same way the palms of your hands begin to stiffen from an unfamiliar drop in temperature. you turn to look behind you and catch a glint of silky raven hair and a sallow, sickly flash of skin fading into something dark and tall reaching towards the sky.

you awaken out of breath, heart pounding as you stare into the darkness. your bedsheets feel cold, almost untouched, around your body. the fan in the corner hums its same tune night after night. everything is as it should be.

from the window, you spot a pair of glowing green eyes. swirling, vivid, hypnotizing you to rise from the safety of your bed and march towards the unknown. yet... it's not quite unfamiliar, is it? no, you know those eyes. you've seen them before.

once upon a dream.

[akutasoda]

songbirds

synopsis - sunday can't help but form a slight crush on a beautiful voice from among the reveries halls

includes - sunday ft robin

warnings - gn!reader, reader is a halovian, fluff, slight angst, sunday listens to reder without them knowing?, wc - 1k

a/n: as mentioned before in a post on my blog, i don't write male reader. but this idea was too good to pass up so i just made it gn! additionally this anon made a second request with some aventurine ideas so expect that tommorow! this is a screenshot of the original request as i don't want to spoil the next idea :)

surprisingly to some, sunday did roam the halls and lobbies of the reverie quite often. he was apart of the family and so he liked to know what was happening outside of the dreamscape aswell as inside - especially if soecial guests were due to arrive. he was also often accompanied by robin but today she had her own business to attend to smooth out details about her performance in the upcoming charmony festival. and so he doubted his presence was needed.

on some various occasions he had heard visitors checking out or current visitors talk word about a lovely melody heard from some parts of the hotel. at first he assumed the reverie now offered a greater range of music and this was the current favourite. and so he didn't think much when he heard a similar melody gracing his ears.

it was a tune he could only compare to his sisters own lovely song. he practically became entranced the more he listened and so he stopped and listened to the entire song. he only broke free from this trance when the melody stopped and he heard footsteps grow more distant. this meant that the melody belonged to a person no?

sunday must admit that over the very short time he had stopped to listen to the melody he had become rather addicted. he wanted to hear more but unfortunately he hadn't caught who it was so he was at a wits end. his best hope was to return tommorow in search of the person who produced such a sweet melody.

you were a halovian that used to work amongst the dreamscape and helped with various affairs. however the family had requested you change your space of work into the reverie and instead help manage affairs their - so now most of your day included wandering around the various halls of the reverie.

you had built a hobby for yourself of humming or singing when doing daily tasks alone. you weren't fond of doing so infront of others however. the halls of the reverie were often empty as most visitors spent their time asleep in the dreampools and so you often could be heard singing among them as you never thought anybody would hear you.

sunday had finally managed to find time to exit the dreamscape and search for the owner of the melody he heard the other day. he wandered the halls of the reverie after not finding the owner where he found them previously and eventually he heard a very faint but familiar voice, he followed the voice until it was as clear as anything.

over multiple days and eventually weeks, sunday had made a routine of tracking down the voice that enchanted him. he had figured you worked at the reverie as he had heard the bellboy, misha, call for you multiple times - which was how he learned your name - and it seemed highly unlikely that somebody would stay for this long at the reverie.

but something was different today, instead of one melodic voice he heard two. one of which he recognised instantly as his sisters. robin approached you earlier that day and embarrassingly told you that she heard from others about a beautiful singing voice heard within the reverie. this made you terribly embarrassed as you never thought the guests of the hotel could hear you.

she eased your worries slightly by instead complimenting your voice and natural talent for singing. however you only became more embarrassed when she asked to hear it herself,even though she offered to sing alongside you. your worries eased when you finally decided to sing alongside her.

sunday really couldn't help the pang of jealousy that consumed him. how come his sister got to hear you sing comfortably around her? he knows he hasn't exactly been forward with his habit of listening to you, unbeknownst to you - sometimes he did think he was being kind of creepy. but still, all he could feel was jealousy and a longing that maybe you'd sing around him like this.

robin knew her brother was hiding something. he disappeared frequently and told her he was 'running errands in the reverie', she knew he was lying. but she never brought him up on it until she saw him retreating from your direction when she bid farewell from you. oh now she knew. and oh how she couldn't help but tease her brother about it.

he felt as if he had been caught doing a heinous crime when his sister asked him about you. he felt even more embarrassed when she figured out that you had no idea he was listening and as creepy as that sounded she unfortunately knew why he had no choice. but it was a difficult situation because there was no way either of them could tell you that sunday would regularly listen to you.

instead robin decided to lend her dear brother a hand and offered to atleast introduce him to you officially without letting you know that he had listened to you multiple times. but meeting you only made his admiration for you increase as now he had developed sort of a major crush on you. robin could only stare at her brother in awe at his awkwardness.

sunday would then come to toil day in and day out over you. your singing was a blessing to his ears that would replay over and over in his head until he listened to you in person. slowly but surely he would come to realise that he truly couldn't get his feelings across to you in person and so instead he wrote a letter.

a letter that he would then come to leave for you in your room at the reverie. and as your eyes landed on the letter on the table in your room, a letter accompanied with a familiar greyish feather, you knew immediately who it was from. and as you read it, a smile would grace your lips as you placed it carefully back upon the table and rush to find the man you'd happily take as your lover.

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire - Part Four

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; angst; smut; violence; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (F and M receiving); racist (anti-Traveller) language; period-typical misogyny; references to domestic physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; references to family loss and death; abusive and derogatory language; strong language.

Translations for the Irish language provided throughout as needed, though I have not translated mo chuisle as a term of endearment (it literally means 'my pulse', more usually used as 'my love').

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the gap between chapters here and am grateful to the readers who've been so patient! Thanks, too, as ever, to @paulmescal-s for working through the gnarlier bits of this story with me and being such a great sort-of beta.

In the future, after many years had passed, you would find it hard to remember exactly how much time you had together, at the forge, before the hard reality came knocking at your door. Those days and nights of domestic happiness could never have been enough.

By day, you keep house, sew, and bake. Each morning, you do some basic reading and writing with Gró, or take the little boy around the hedgerows and trees at the boundary of the property, teaching him the names of plants and animals. Din had explained your presence to him, and he beamed every morning when his father carried him down the attic ladder and he saw you again. 

Din, so used to being the lone adult in the household, insists on contributing to the routine: cooking, cleaning, setting the fire. It feels so natural, so right - and yet a blade dangles over this strange little found family, ready to drop at any moment. 

Each evening, Din readies Gró for bed, sometimes bathing his son in a tin bath in front of the fire while you tell him a story by way of distraction. It has quickly become a highlight of the blacksmith’s day, these moments where he watches as you make his beloved boy squeal with laughter, or hold his rapt attention with the twists and turns of a tale. 

They were content and settled, this clan of two. But Din couldn’t help the daydreams about a clan of three that sometimes flashed through his mind. 

He took every opportunity he could to touch you throughout the day. A squeeze of your hand at the breakfast table as Gró drained his cup of milk. A discreet kiss to your cheek as he made his way into the forge for his morning’s work. A gentle caress of your waist as he passes you while you’re laying the table for the main meal, taken in the middle of the day. 

With Gró settled and asleep in the loft, the two of you moved more hastily in the evenings, now, to sort the things for breakfast and smother the fire. The sooner the chores were done, after all, the sooner you could shed your clothes and climb into his bed together. 

The nervous caution of your first time together soon dissipated as you grew more familiar with each other, more in tune with each other’s needs and desires. For all his inexperience and your difficult past, the two of you are perfectly-matched lovers. The feeling of Din’s broad body on yours, glistening with sweat, begins to exorcise the demons of the past. You ride him on top, one hand intertwined with his as he squeezes your breasts and watches you come. He slips his cock inside you one morning as you’re lying together, your back pressed to his chest, and fucks you slowly and carefully until you’re both coming quietly, mouths pushed into the pillows. One evening, he was even too impatient for bed, hitching up your skirts and taking you over the heavy wooden table, hand pressed against your mouth as you whined against his palm. 

“I want to learn you,” Din whispered one night, easing your long shift off so that you were completely bare, lying alongside his own naked body. 

You traced your fingertips along the softness of his lips. “Learn me?”

His strong, clever fingers roamed over you as he nodded. “Learn you. Know you, all of you.” He squeezed your tits softly, sucking gently on each nipple. “Commit you to memory. How you feel, how you fit together. Do you like this?”

You wound your fingers through his messy curls and nodded. He followed the curves of your body with his broad, calloused hands, moving over your waist and holding your hips firmly as he reverently kissed your belly. He took his time, hands memorising the exact shape and volume of your form.

“You are a beauty, mo chuisle,” he murmured, dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “So lovely and soft and warm.”

His fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he mapped you out, and you felt the wetness between your legs as your hips bucked upwards, legs parting instinctively. 

“Can I…see, mo chuisle?” Din’s palm grazed over the hair covering your mound. “See you…see you here?”

“Of course, my darling.” You opened your legs wider for him, watching as his eyes grew round in awe, before darkening with lust. He reached for his cock, whimpering a little as he stroked himself. 

“That’s beautiful.” He had shifted his head closer to your centre, his expression a little bashful. “I’d like to kiss you here.  Would that be alright?”

“Please, darling,” you hissed. “Put your mouth on me.”

“I’ve never…” He exhaled nervously as he settled between your legs, fingers already playing with your wet folds. “Never even thought of this, but…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled, understanding what he was trying to say. “You’ll know just what to do, love.”

This was new to you, too, though you had heard of men doing it to their girls, especially if they were not meant to lie together. Your friend Mary had, just prior to her marriage, confided in you that she and her betrothed had found a way to sate their passions without the risk of her falling pregnant before the wedding. 

“The mouth is a great thing, all the same,” she’d said, dangling her bare feet in the cool water of the local river on a warm summer day as the two of you lazed on the grassy bank, skirts hitched to your knees. She had explained the mechanisms of it to you, chuckling at your sceptical expression. 

“Just wait, girleen. Just you wait and see.”

Now Din’s soft, plush lips were pressed against your slit, tongue tasting your wetness, and you finally understood what she meant. It was heaven: the way his lips brushed against the little bundle of nerves and made your whole body convulse with pleasure, the sensation of his patchy beard against your thighs, how he began to slip his tongue in and out of you. His grunts and moans vibrated against your core and you came hard against him, giggling when you saw the slick glistening all over his smiling face. 

In the nights to come, you returned the favour, languidly sucking and licking at his perfect cock while he held your head in place with his broad hands, hips bucking up against you as he groaned with sheer pleasure.

You paused, reminding him that he needed to be quieter, before slipping his cock between your lips again. “‘S not my fault, mo chuisle,” he panted, eyes locked on how his hard length disappeared into your pretty mouth. “Feels far too good.” 

As he came in your mouth for the first time, you’d looked up at his beautiful face, release and pleasure and affection written on every part of it, and begged whatever deity might listen to let you stay here forever.

Din is more comfortable showing his feelings through actions, physical gestures, than words. Little by little, though, you notice him opening up more, saying more. Not that he’d ever be what you could consider a talker. 

One night, nestled together, you ask him to tell you about himself.

"I want to hear your story, Din.” The comforting caress of your hand against his face makes him smile softly.

"I don’t know what there is to tell.”

You cuddle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his solid frame against you. “Well, I don’t know much about your family, for one…”

He shifts a little in bed and for an instant you worry you have overstepped the mark. 

“It’s not a very happy story, mo chuisle, but if you want to know…”

A kiss to the expanse of broad, tanned chest exposed at the neck of his nightshirt. “I want to know. If you want to tell me.”

He finds your hand and presses it to his chest, seeking reassurance in your familiar touch, and taking a deep breath before he begins to whisper his story to you.

"I’m a travelling person. I don’t know where I was born - other than that it was probably somewhere towards the west of the country, on a campsite. I have - had - an older sister, a younger brother. Lived off the money from whatever work my father could get - fixing pots and pans, mostly, sometimes farm labour, depending on the season.”

"A hard living.”

He nods, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Hard, but loving.” He inhales deeply, again, before continuing.

"We were never really wanted anywhere. Moved on, camps disturbed, even attacked, sometimes. We learned quickly how to hide at the first sign of trouble.”

He closes his eyes, a flash of sorrow crossing his beautiful features in the moonlight coming through the little cottage window. “I suppose that’s what saved me.”

For a few moments, Din is quiet. 

“We had camped on land that was part of some big estate, belonging to Lord somebody or other. The usual situation. My father and a couple of our other men went fishing the first day and poaching the first night, to get us some food. I can still see the scales of the big salmon he caught, glinting in the firelight as my mother cleaned it.”

"A feast.”

He nods, a little smile on his lips at the memory, before his features darken again. “But not our feast to take. The lord’s feast, by virtue of the land being given to him by some far-off king.” He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was coming back with some cans of water the next morning when I heard shouting. The glimpses of red moving towards the camp - the yeomanry. The landlord set them on us, and they gave us no quarter. When some of our men and women tried to defend our few possessions, they - well, they turned violent.”

You hold him close, feeling the anguish in his breathing.

"I saw my father fall, killed by a blow to the head with the butt of a yeoman’s musket. My mother caught a glimpse of me, roared at me to run, to hide, and to my eternal shame I did just that. I didn’t go to them. I ran.”

"She wanted you to live, Din. She was saving you.”

He swallows hard, audible in the stillness of the night. 

“The local priest found me a couple of days later, still carrying the empty can. I’d hidden in a ditch, ate blackberries to survive. He arranged for the local blacksmith and his wife to take me in, train me as an apprentice.” 

He pauses again. You realise this is the most he’s probably ever said to you in one go. 

“When the time came, I took to the roads myself, honing the craft before I could set up on my own. I wasn’t long back when the priest called, saying a cousin in the east knew of an empty forge in need of a good smith.”

"And that’s how you came here?”

Din nods. “That’s how I came to be here.”

You venture a sensitive question. “Din… what happened to your mother, your siblings?”

"Poorhouse. No other choice.”

Silence.

"I didn’t know where they’d gone. So much sickness in those godforsaken places…”

Another pause.

”My brother died first. Then my sister, and then my mother.”

Your voice is tiny, barely a whisper. “Did you… see them?”

"By the time we found out what poorhouse they were in… it was too late.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you do your best not to let them fall. This is his story, his grief, not yours. Instead, you shift up the bed a little, still holding his warm body close, and lean in to caress and kiss him. 

There’s a wet, salty tang on his cheek. You kiss away the silent tear. 

For a moment, you think of what Din told you about how he came to adopt Gró: his unwillingness to let the boy go to a poorhouse or orphanage, his desire to protect and train the child, just as he himself had once been taken in by the smith and his wife. Just as he, himself, had once been a lost little boy. 

You press your lips to the messy curls at the crown of his head. 

There are times when you almost forget that you’re not really meant to be here, so natural and right does it feel. And then you are jolted back, reluctantly, to a reality where you are still technically the wife of a violent, cruel man who could claim you at any moment. 

That afternoon, you hear the sound of horses approaching and immediately disappear up to the loft, as usual, until you know it’s safe to descend. You listen attentively as the door opens and breathe a sigh of relief when Gró’s delighted little voice greets Peigí, here on one of her regular visits. You hear Din enter the cottage from the forge, chatting companionably to his old friend, and make for the ladder.

You’re a few rungs down when you hear a second, less familiar voice.

“So where is she, Din?”

He stutters, the panic evident in his voice. You wonder if you can make it back to the loft. 

Too late.

Father Carthy hears the sound of your skirts and turns, greeting you by name in grave tones. 

“You might as well come and join us, my child.”

Peigí’s gaze is apologetic as you climb down the ladder and move to join the little cluster of adults, Din having sent Gró outside to play. You stand beside him, arms wrapped protectively over your body, resisting the urge to reach for his hand. 

“I’m sorry, girleen.” Peigí wrings her hands, expression anxious and sorrowful. “Father came to see me today before I left for the forge, I couldn’t turn him out.”

You meet Father Carthy’s eyes with a look of defiance, straightening yourself to your full height, silently demanding an explanation.

“I am not here to force you home. I know your…situation.” The priest exhales deeply, fingers fiddling with the little black buttons on his long robes. “And between us and the wall and the Lord Almighty, if that kind of cruelty and abandonment was grounds for annulment… well.”

The back of Din’s hand brushes almost imperceptibly against yours. 

“But you are still a married woman, and…” The cleric sighs apologetically. “My child, you were seen here. Out in the back field, with the boy. And if I’ve heard it, and people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time before -”

You interject in a low, steady voice. “Before Searlas finds out where I am.”

The priest nods sadly. “That’s why I came here. Why I came with Peigí, specifically. We… have a suggestion.” He looks expectantly at Peigí, who offers you an encouraging smile as she nods in agreement.

“My sister, Rosie - she’s in the next county, big farm, spinster, plenty of space and could do with the help. You could stay there for a bit and then come home to your own place - until they change the garrison, surely, or that wastrel Searlas can be warned off…”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. 

“I mean, maybe he’s not going to come looking for me.”

Peigí and the priest exchange a concerned glance. The cleric clasps his hands together and looks at you sympathetically.

“The thing is… I have eyes and ears, as it were, in the barracks, and in the public house preferred by the garrison. I didn’t want to tell you, my dear, in case it frightened you - but he has been talking about you.” He purses his lips, almost afraid to tell you the truth. “He has openly talked about finding you, about… claiming you. And if he finds out you’ve been staying here, with a bachelor - think of your reputation, my child.”

You let out an involuntary sob, and Peigí places a comforting hand on your arm. “I think you need to be gone tomorrow, girleen. At the latest. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful quick, but…”

For the first time, Din speaks. His voice is low, controlled, serious. 

“But you - I mean, she must be kept safe.” He looks at you, dark eyes full of care and concern. “If you want to stay, I will keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s nothing more you want in the world than to throw your arms around him and let him protect you, just as you long to protect him from the sorrows of his past. But his description of the day he lost his parents echoes in your mind, as does the tension that crackled in the air the day the soldiers were at the forge. You cannot - will not - bring that down on him again, nor on Gró.

“Din, if I stay here I fear that none of us will be safe. Not you, not me, not Gró. I couldn’t take that risk, my d-” You catch yourself just in time. “I mean, my dear friend.”

Peigí’s wise, inquisitive eyes dart between you and Din, and she emits a low, intrigued hum.

Din exhales in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe, here. I mean it.”

Father Carthy places a paternal hand on Din’s shoulder, expression gentle but resigned. “She’s right, Din, and you know it. Apart from her own reputation - you don’t want a troop of redcoats landing on the doorstep, do you? Think of your home, your livelihood - your son.”

The blacksmith’s expression is defiant, but you can see the reality of the situation dawning on him as the light fades from his beautiful eyes. He nods, silent, a hand twisting at the soft, worn leather of his apron.

“Early as we can after dawn tomorrow, then?” Peigí squeezes your hand as she waits for your answer.

You cannot bring yourself to look at Din as you nod in agreement. 

It is still bright outside, just about, when Gró is settled for bed and the dinner things cleared and tidied away. You have packed up your saddlebags in silence, fighting the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Din’s broad hand reaches around your waist as he moves past you, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“Can we take a little walk, mo chuisle? Before night falls?”

You face him, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “A little one. Don’t forget there’s a little boy asleep in the loft, we can’t go too far.”

He presses his lips to your fingertips before kissing you on the forehead. 

You walk hand in hand in the dusk, wandering through the field at the back of the forge towards the old oak tree that stands at the boundary of the property. Din is quiet - even quieter than usual, just casting occasional glances in your direction and squeezing your hand with a gentle smile.

In the shadow of the oak, he kisses you deeply, pressing your body against the tree as he holds your face in his big, strong hands. 

“I don’t want to go, Din.”

“I don’t want you to go, mo chuisle.” He kisses you again, chastely, and looks in your eyes. A question hovers on the tip of his tongue.

“Tell me, my darling.”

He holds your hands, grounding himself a little in your comforting touch. 

“I want you to take Gró to Peigí’s sister’s. Please.”

Even in the half-light, he can read the shock on your face.

“Oh, Din, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the two of you parted, he’d be lost without you and you without him and-”

He shakes his head firmly. “I have to keep you safe - both of you. And if a gang of redcoats turned up and it was just me and him…”

He saw his father die. 

“He’s your son.” 

Din nods. “He is. And I can’t leave him alone again.”

He lost his entire family.

“He might not want to leave with me.”

“I’ve explained it to him. He knows it’s not forever, he understands the reasons why.” You catch a glimpse of his smile, a beacon of hope in the twilight. 

“Mo chuisle, you’re the closest thing he has to a mother in this world.”

You hold each other close through the night, afraid to sleep lest you miss a single second of this time together. 

Din tucks his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and softly kissing the exposed skin of your shoulders. You wind your fingers through his hair, trying to memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath.

"You should sleep, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your body. “Tomorrow will be a hard one.”

"Says you,” you whisper in return, enough to elicit a muffled chuckle from the blacksmith. 

He pulls away to look you in the eye, fingers mapping the shape of your features. Even in the low light, you can see how his beautiful eyes glisten: this strong and stoic man, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

You take his hand and guide it down your body, pausing to hitch up your shift and open your legs. You inhale sharply as his fingers find your pussy, well-practiced now from nights and early mornings spent pleasuring you. 

With a shift of your hips you roll onto your back, bringing Din on top of you. You pause to take in the sight, suppressing the gnawing feeling that this might well be the last time. The glint in his dark eyes. The moonlight illuminating his features. The feeling of his strong, broad body above you, perfectly positioned between your thighs. 

“Make love to me, Din.” 

He does so slowly, carefully, anchoring himself with one hand on your hip and the other still caressing the side of your face. You kiss as he fucks you, your whines absorbed by his soft mouth. No man had ever made you come before Din, you muse, as your cunt pulses around him and you near the edge. No man had ever made you feel like this - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Sex was presented to you before your marriage as a duty, not a pleasure. With Din, though, lovemaking felt like the most beautiful, natural expression of the spiritual connection that existed between the two of you. 

You come almost simultaneously, Din groaning into your shoulder as he fills you with his seed, you biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Still inside you, he kisses you, over and over, your hands trailing through his wavy brown locks and fingers grazing against the rough, patchy stubble of his jaw. 

For a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But all he does is kiss you.

It’s still dark outside when you wake, but there’s a comforting glow inside the cottage. You sit up in bed, turning to see Din stoking a small fire in the hearth. He has lit the lamp on the mantle, its flickering yellow flame casting light and shadow through the glass. 

You dress quickly, shivering as your body adjusts to the colder air after the warmth of your shared bed, and cross the room to the little cupboard that holds the few pieces of crockery Din owns. By the time he has climbed the attic ladder to rouse the boy, you’ve set the table for a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and the last of the jam you’d brought with you. 

Gró’s fair hair peeks over his father’s broad shoulder as Din carries him down the ladder. The little boy is still half-asleep, eyes still closed and nestled into the blacksmith’s frame. Din carefully slides him into his usual seat at the table, ruffling his son’s hair as Gró rubs his eyes and yawns. 

“I think some bread and jam will help wake you up, hmmm?” You take a couple of slices of bread from the dish and place them on the boy’s little plate, before pushing the jar of jam in his direction. His dark eyes widen as he looks at you, astonished. This is a rare treat, indeed: usually it’s you or Din who spreads the sweet conserve on his bread, as Gró is liable to be heavy-handed. But this is not a day for rules or restrictions.

“You can have as much as you like, little one.” 

The tears threaten at the sight of Gró enthusiastically scraping the jam out of the earthenware pot, a huge smile on his face as he spoons it liberally onto the soda bread. He takes a huge bite and hums delightedly, before turning to you and beaming. The little boy already has blobs of jam on his cheeks and nose, and the sight makes you chuckle. 

Din returns to the main room carrying a small knapsack containing Gró’s things. He places it alongside your saddlebags before he joins the two of you at the table, giving your hand a squeeze that, you suspect, is intended to reassure him as much as it is you. He keeps a smile on his face, keeps his tone cheery and light, even as his eyes glisten with tears. 

You are saddling Réaltín in the dawn light when Peigí appears down the lane, wrapped in a rough brown cloak and riding her small grey mount. She dismounts swiftly and nods to you. 

“All set?”

“I think so. I left the two on their own for a little bit, just to… well, you know.” You swallow hard and look in the direction of the forge. “It’ll be hard for them.”

Peigí hums in agreement. “Aye, ’twill. But Din’s right. And hopefully that bollocks of a so-called husband will be out of the picture soon enough and you can come home. The prick.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the venom in her tone. “Hopefully. I’m awful grateful to you and your sister, Peigí. I mean, maybe we’re being overly cautious, but…”

She shakes her head, russet curls bouncing. “Not a bit of it. You can never tell with a fucker like that.” The cottage door opens, and Din appears, Gró securely held in his strong arms. 

“And there’s the best boy in all of Ireland!” Peigí races over, taking the knapsack and planting a kiss on Gró’s cheek. “We should probably get going, girleen.”

She tactfully retreats to the horses, giving you, Din, and Gró some space to say your goodbyes. You feel the blacksmith’s broad arm snake around your waist, uncaring as to whether Peigí saw the affectionate gesture - or, more likely, all too aware that she knew exactly what was going on. 

The little boy brings a hand up to touch his father’s handsome face, big eyes scanning Din’s features as if he’s committing them to memory. 

“Ná bíodh eagla ort, grá mo chroí.” [Don’t be afraid, love] The blacksmith smiles, but he’s fighting back the tears as he kisses his son’s golden hair. Instinctively, you rest your head on Din’s shoulder, trying to keep your own emotions in check. 

Gró’s dark eyes fill with tears and his father comforts him with cuddles. “You’ll have a lovely time on the farm, won’t you? And you’ll look after her while you’re on your visit.” He looks at you, and you nod, smiling at Gró.

“Of course he will. He’s a big, brave lad.” The little boy grins at the praise before flinging his arms around Din’s neck for a final tight hug.

“Be good, and take this.” Din reaches into his pocket to produce a small, silvery chain, evidently made by his own hands. A metal disc dangles from it, and you realise that Din has engraved it with his son’s name. He places it over the boy’s head, smiling at Gró as he picks up the pendant and coos at the shiny object.

“We should get going, lads.” Peigí’s voice carries in the still of the early morning, and Din passes his son to you. Gró nuzzles against you, still holding on to the little pendant that hangs from his neck. 

Din’s long fingers find your hand and press something into your palm. He leans in to kiss your cheek. His voice, warm but wavering with emotion, whispers in your ear. 

 “Is tú mo ghrá thú, mo chuisle.” [You are my love, my darling.]

You stifle the sob that’s rising in your chest. 

“I love you too, Din.”

Peigí’s sister Rosie shares her sister’s hardy, forthright personality and her tightly curled auburn hair, but not a lot else. Where Peigí is small, Rosie is tall; where Peigí is talkative and open, Rosie is quiet and reserved. Still, her welcome is genuine, her home comfortable, and you feel at ease from the moment you cross the threshold after a long day’s journey to some semblance of sanctuary.

You retire quickly once you’ve been fed and watered, Peigí sharing with Rosie while you and Gró make do with a settle bed. The little boy falls asleep almost immediately, and you gently kiss his soft cheek, willing him to know that it comes from his father, too.

With the household abed, you can finally look again at Din’s parting gift to you: a chain and pendant, similar to Gró’s. Where the little boy’s bears his name, however, yours carries a symbol, evidently engraved into the metal by the blacksmith himself. Three interconnected spirals - an ancient symbol, one that you recognise from a dolmen tomb that stands in a field not far from your birthplace, one that people in the locality have long speculated about.

Father Carthy would say it is a symbol of the Holy Trinity: three divine beings in one, a sign of early Christians in Ireland. But the storytellers in the townland say it’s far older than any church, its meaning lost to the mists of time.

You trace the three spirals with your fingertip in the darkness. Three as one. For you, that is meaning enough.

He was alone for a long time, Din reminds himself - alone before you, alone even before Gró. He can be alone again.

That said, though, there’s being alone and not knowing anything different, and being alone now. He still automatically goes to the foot of the attic ladder every morning, ready to wake his little boy. He hides the bowl and cup Gró usually uses, because the sight of them makes his heart ache. He throws himself into his work, distracting himself with glowing-hot metal.

And then there is your absence. He had never lived with a woman, not like this; never shared his bed night after night, never loved like this. For the first few days, he wakes with a start when he reaches for your warm, soft body and realises you’re not there. 

He tries not to think about the reality of the situation: the fact that, even if you were to return home tomorrow, you could never be together, at least not while Searlas lived. There are nights when, alone in his bed and desperate for the embrace of your arms, violence tempts Din. In his younger years, he might already have taken matters into his own hands. 

As the days and weeks tick by with no sign of your so-called husband, and no word from Father Carthy, the blacksmith reminds himself to be patient - and not to fall into complacency. He had never really lost that sense of looking over his shoulder: from childhood, from the rebellion, and now he felt glad of it. No one from the community mentions you to him, though he knows they must have heard by now that you had been hiding from Searlas at the forge. He does his repairs as usual, driving into the village with his pony and trap to return items and collect others, pulling his kerchief over his face as he makes his way through the main street lest he spy a troop of redcoats. 

One of the regular customers asks about Gró when he’s returning her extra-large soup pan, newly mended. Din hesitates, but keeps his expression steady.

“He’s spending time with some…cousins,” he explains. “On a farm. It’ll be good for him, he’ll learn from the experience.”

The woman doesn’t ask further, pays up, and retreats back into her little house as Din turns his horse and cart for home. As he gathers speed, he hears a voice calling his name. Father Carthy, clad in his long black cassock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, is waving to him from the end of the laneway that leads to the chapel. 

“Could you spare me a few moments, Din? Follow me up to the parish house.”

The priest’s house is a decently-sized cottage, larger but not too dissimilar to the majority of the dwellings in the village. Father Carthy might be responsible for the majority of the believers in the community, but his is not the “established” church, the official church of the state and gentry, and as such his home is a far cry from the grand, double-fronted manse occupied by the vicar who tends to the local worthies. Even the location of the chapel, tucked off a narrow laneway behind the main street, is a testament to the lower status of this particular branch of religion.

Din enters, taking off his hat and kerchief, and follows the cleric’s gesture to take a seat near the hearth. Father Carthy does the same, pulling his chair closer to Din.

“I have news. I haven’t been able to find a way to dissuade Searlas from seeking her out, but a little bird tells me that they’re going to change the troops again in a week or so. The current crop has been…rowdy.” The priest purses his lips, mulling over the stories he has heard of public drunkenness, fighting, and even soldiers nonchalantly carousing with women in the pubs and on the street. He decides not to give Din too many of the gory details. 

“So they’re going to be sent elsewhere, split up. Clonmel, I heard, for some, and Castlebar for others. Maybe a few to Cork. There’s ructions, as you can imagine - a rare thing to break up a regiment - but…”

Din meets the priest’s meaningful gaze. “But…he would be gone.”

Father Carthy nods. “It’s not a solution, not forever, but it at least would let her come home to her own place again, and Gró home to you. You were right to send the boy with her, too - who knows what might have happened had he come knocking?”

Din closes his eyes and furrows his brow at the priest’s turn of phrase: “her own place”. It was a reminder of the truth, that you were not - and could not be - his.

Father Carthy gets to his feet, a signal to Din that it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’m going to look more closely into the canon law around annulment. I’m not hopeful, but maybe she might be able to build a case for it. He did abandon her, after all. Anyway -” he opens the door, and Din exits “- it would free her, at least, from the threat of him.”

The blacksmith thanks Father Carthy as he saddles up to head back to the forge, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. On the road home, Din smiles to himself as he thinks about seeing Gró again, holding his little boy in his arms, watching you give him an extra spoonful of jam at breakfast, tucking him in to sleep at night. He thinks about your eyes, your smile; the feeling and taste of your mouth; the scent of your skin. 

No matter what, he promises himself, no matter the rules or the law or whatever a piece of paper might say: he’ll kiss you again, hold you, take you to bed, and show you how much he missed you.

A couple of days later, as dusk settles, Din lights the lamp and finishes clearing away his lone dinner bowl and mug. Anticipation courses through him as he thinks about seeing two - no, three - places set for the evening meal again. Soon. Soon, they’ll be home.

He yawns and stretches, a hand reaching up to scratch his wavy, dark locks. It had been a hard day in the forge: a run of horses that needed to be shod, urgent repairs, and the difficulty of managing the work itself as well as the bellows and the fire, all by himself. An early night, he decides, might be in order.

He’s in his shirt and breeches when he hears the sound. A horse, its footfall cautious and uncertain, as though it had not been down the laneway before. A rider, barking commands and swearing at the animal. Din pulls his kerchief from his pocket and fastens it around his face before climbing swiftly up the attic ladder. His hand reaches into the thatch, on the other side of the house from Gró’s little bed, and retrieves a pike, smaller in design than the ones he’d hammered by the dozen in 1798 but no less lethal in the right hands. He grips the pike in his right hand, hidden from view while he opens the door with his left.

The rider struggles off his horse, evidently drunk. His scarlet tunic is unmistakable. The light from the cottage illuminates his features: pale, washed-out complexion; unhappy mouth set in a miserable line; hard blue eyes that offered nothing but coldness. 

“Where the fuck is she, then, the stupid fucking bitch?”

Din’s fist tightens around the pike, but he holds his ground, still peering around the door. “Who is it? Who are you?”

Searlas swaggers drunkenly towards the house. “I know you’re a tinker, but you don’t have to play thick with me. You know who I am.” He beats his chest, peacocking as he nears Din’s threshold. “I’m a soldier of the fucking crown, so I am. And I’m here for what’s mine.”

He pokes Din’s broad chest, seeming a little startled at how solid the blacksmith actually is. Searlas’s watery eyes meet Din’s stern gaze. 

“So… where the fuck is she?”

“Whoever you’re after,” Din says, maintaining the same tone he’s used throughout the encounter so far, “they’re not here. I live alone.”

Searlas pushes Din in frustration, and Din recoils a little at the stench of cheap poitín from the other, smaller man. “I know she’s fucking here. The whole fucking place knows.” He steps back and starts to roar upwards, as if addressing you in an attic hiding place. 

“Did you not think I’d find you? You’re that fucking stupid, you would think that. I’m here now, time to go home. You’re mine, remember?” He shakes his fist, swaying a little.

“She’s not here. And even if she was, why do you care so much now? You left her on her own for years, apart from all the other things you did to her.”

Searlas stares at Din, a look of disgust on his face. “So you do know her? She’s full of shit, so she is. Full of lies. Not to be trusted.”

He wheels around again, almost losing his balance completely this time. “You were seen, you lying cunt!”

Din’s fingers clench and release over and over around the pike. He swallows the urge to run this miserable fucker through.

The soldier looks at him through glassy, drunken eyes. “She’s mine, see. And I think I want to take what’s mine. Time she was taught a lesson.” He roars the last word, as if hoping you’ll hear him and emerge.

The blacksmith edges out slightly and stands firmer, broader, in his front door. Searlas stares at him accusingly. 

“D’you fuck her?”

Din holds his body and face completely still, focusing on the grip of the pike and his breathing.

“I said, did you fuck her? Did you fuck my wife?”

Din takes a deep breath. “Do you have the right to call her your wife, after what you did?”

Searlas’s jaw drops in astonishment. Din knew that he was just a bog-standard Irish Catholic soldier signed up for cannon fodder like all the others, but it was clear that the other man believed his uniform made him one of the “betters”, no matter what.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you have the right to call her your wife?”

Searlas almost growls with drunken fury. “I have the right to call her whatever I fucking like.” Din notices his fist tightening by his side and steels himself as the other man approaches, menacingly. 

“I’ll call her what I fucking like,” Searlas repeats, “including calling her what she is. A slut. A liar. A frigid, barren, useless excuse for a woman. And now? She’s filthy, tinker’s whore. That’s all she is. A stupid, ugly, disgusting tinker’s whore.”

The speed with which Din moves takes the soldier by surprise, as does the bright flash of the pike’s blade as it reflects the moonlight. The blacksmith uses the long handle first, roaring as he beats Searlas away with some well-placed blows. He moves with agility and confidence as the soldier fumbles in his sleeves for a weapon, and produces a narrow switchblade dagger.

“I’ll fucking show you, tinker,” he roars, the poitín giving him an exaggerated confidence. “I’ll skin you alive, fucking another man’s wife.”

He lunges at Din, but a swift, measured flick of the pike’s bladed end knocks the dagger to the ground and tears a hole in the scarlet tunic. Now Din presses his advantage, driving Searlas back to his horse.

“Get out of here and leave her alone. Forever. Don’t you ever come near her again.”

A more sober man would have cut and run, and would do so wisely. But Searlas’s selfishness combined with his drunkenness made for a terrible cocktail of aggression and abuse.

“And what will you do, tinker? They should have hanged every last one of you rebel scum in ‘98. Pity that scalp wasn’t ripped from your skull with a pitchcap.” He pats his thighs, as if seeking another blade. “You couldn’t defend yourselves then, why do you think you could stand up to the king’s army now?” He cocks his head and looks at Din, eyes menacing. 

“Or are you just that desperate to defend a thick, useless slut like my wife?”

The grunting, the roars, and the sickening sound of a strong, sturdy fist meeting flesh and bone resonate in the stillness of the twilight. And then another sound, louder still: the unmistakable thud of a man’s body hitting the cold ground. 

[alieinthemorning]

TOUCHED STARVED LEONA WITH VERY PDA AFFECTIONATE FEM!READER AAAAAA

A Familiar Touch [Leona Kingscholar]

Content: Touch-Starved, Fluff, Emotional Hurt and Comfort, Soft Leona Kingscholar

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

How long had it been since someone had run a brush  through his hair? Gently undoing each and every knot and tangle. Who hummed a tune that was different from the one from before, yet familiar all the same.

He felt like a cub again, and honestly?

He didn't like what feelings that dredged up.

However, he also couldn't bare to remove himself from such bliss.

Call him selfish, he didn't care.

Chartreuse eyes open to find your own closed, a soft smile gracing your features with the sunlight from the open blinds of his balcony haloing you.

You were beautiful.

"Sounds like you're thinking pretty hard there." Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He was glad that your hands were in his hair and not on his face because he couldn't keep himself from flushing.

He sighed, tail thumping against the sheets. "You're imaginin' things."

"Sure, sure..." You paused, then asked. "Are you thinking about home?"

He froze.

Seven, you were too perceptive for your own good.

And he had already confirmed your suspicions by freezing up like damn prey.

He pulled himself up, showing you his back (putting up some kind of wall between the two you).

You placed a hand on his back, however, completely disregarding his weak attempt at closing you off.

"Talk to me."

His eyes slid close as his body leaned forward. Elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Your body followed him.

"When I was little my mother would always brush my hair before bed. She would take her time and hum this little tune and just..." He trailed off, losing himself in the feelings of those memories.

He didn't like thinking of is ma. It brought up too much to the surface. Too much that he refused to sort through.

Too much about her.

Too much about his father.

Too much about his brother.

Too much about how much he has lost.

"Leona." One again, you pull him from that headspace. "I hope I'm not over stepping but..."

"I'm so happy that I'm you trust me with things like this."

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "'Course I trust you with this.'

"I love you."

Guess who's feeling better from the Big Ick?

It's me (i've been up for 3 hours lmao)!

Anyway, this took forever and I didn't end up using the other two requested traits of: short and bubbly, but hey we got touch-starved (did we tho?????)

We got something nice and soft and that's all that matters uwu

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

About that Barbie bot ask which I love! Can we get the reactions of the tfa bots and cons helping her out and her getting so excited and grateful she unexpectedly gives them a brief kiss before skipping off waving another thank you.

Barbie-bot is called Millisecond (or Millie for short) as suggested by @curespectra

-Optimus' processor comes to a screeching halt, unable to quite fathom what just happened. He makes it all back to base on autopilot, back into his private room, and it's only then that it finally sinks in. He covers his face with his servos as his face turns a brilliant blue as he blushes. Oh stars. He only now realizes just what a massive crush he's got on Millisecond. How is he supposed to look her in the optics now without thinking about that kiss? Impossible. He'll just have to hide away forever.

-Ratchet sputters, takes a step back, stares at Millie's retreating back, touches his lips and finally just loudly exclaims "WHAT". Look, kissing is a human thing but he knows what it means. He knows that it's meant to be something intimate, something done between lovers. And for the first time in millennia, Ratchet feels like he's a young newframe again, experiencing his first crush.

-It takes a few seconds for Bumblebee to compute what is happening. When it finally dawns on him, Millie is already leaving. Of course, he's going to follow because ok, wow, that was- that was GREAT. Greater than great, AMAZING. Bumblebee is trying so hard to come up with something smooth and suave to say but instead he stumbles over his pick up lines, acting like the flustered fool he is.

-Bulkhead's jaw drops. Literally. He stands there, frozen as he watches her Millisecond away and it's only when one of his friends intervene that he remembers that he has a body. The biggest, goofiest smile appears on his face and he practically skips back to base, immediately preparing a new canvas and starts painting because love is inspiring and he's got to express his feelings with art. If it turns out good then maybe he'll even give his crush the painting.

-As someone who prides himself with rarely being caught off guard, Prowl is, admittedly, caught off guard by the kiss. He gently touches his lips before retreating somewhere more private, somewhere where he can consider his feelings regarding what just happened. As cold as he might appear, Prowl is actually quite in tune with his own emotions and so he doesn't feel flustered or at a loss, simply befuddled. Befuddled and very, very happy.

-It takes a moment but then Megatron is smiling, well, more like smirking. He had originally only helped her out because he wanted to manipulate Millisecond, make her think that she can trust him, but this just made things much easier. He's familiar with the human gesture and its implications and so his mind is already conjuring up ideas on how to turn this into his favor. It doesn't hurt that Millisecond is also an incredibly attractive bot.

-Similar to Ratchet, Starscream freezes before letting out a loud "WHAT" that shatters windows, triggers car alarms and sends birds flying. He's not upset, just caught off guard. People don't feel grateful towards him, they just don't, and they especially don't express that gratefulness through physical intimacy! Once he's calmed down however, Starscream feels incredibly smug about it. Of course she would reward him with a kiss, he's such a gentleman after all. It goes straight to his ego.

-Blitzwing is swapping faces so fast it makes him dizzy. The face that got the kiss is immediately attacked by the other two because they are jealous and petty even at themself. Hothead is the worst affected because now he can't stop thinking about those soft lips on his and how it would feel like to actually kiss back and oh dear, he's got it bad. Meanwhile, Random wants Millie to take it a step further and actually eat his face. Icy is the only one even remotely normal about it all.

-Lugnut straight up screeches and trips over his own pedes as he scrambles backwards. Begone, temptress! He's happily conjuxed and faithful to his one true love! Secretly though, he can't stop his spark from spinning out of control because he's got a crush on Millie and it makes him feel so fucking guilty.

-Initially unfamiliar with this gesture, Shockwave does some research on what it means and when he does, oh boy. He's got to kill her now. It's the only way. Because his frame should not be burning so hot with an emotion that he can only call a crush. He does not know how to deal with this. This is, this is- lord Megatron, HELP!

-Blackarachnia is used to being the one doing the seducing so being on the other side of things throws all of her into a flustered mess. And it wasn't even meant to be seductive! It was just a token of appreciation, a way to show how grateful Millie felt. But somehow that only makes it worse! Blackarachnia is so out of depth, she doesn't know what to do.

[n0cturn4]

𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚔𝚞

“𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑜𝑟, 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑡 𝐴𝑙𝑙” - 𝑂𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑊𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 (1993)

S𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘚2

In the vastness of the skies, where the stars twinkle like diamonds in a black cloak, a singular creature soars amidst the celestial expanse. On a full moon night, while the stars dotted the dark sky like shimmering diamonds, the unnamed winged creature delved into its deepest memories. There, it revisited the moment when it contemplated the infinite cosmos, its thoughts flying as freely as its wings, yearning to discover more than just the limits of the vast starry sky.

Each night brought with it a sense of restlessness, a silent call echoing in its heart and urging it towards the unknown. It was as if the stars beckoned it on a journey that had yet to be completed, and it was determined to uncover its purpose beyond the beloved constellations.

However, even in its tireless pursuit, the winged creature began to realize that sometimes, the true meaning lay beyond its grasp. As the nights passed and its wings cut through the lonely skies, it found itself enveloped by a growing melancholy, a sense of loss that accompanied it with every beat of its winged heart.

And so, even as it longed to fly away from its village in search of answers, something inexplicable kept it tethered, as if an invisible force held it firmly in place. No matter how much it stretched its wings and soared into the sky, it always ended up returning to the familiar ground, its heart heavy with the weight of a longing that could not be explained.

While the winged creature rested in its tranquil clearing, its wings tucked in for rest, its tail revealed itself as an essential part of its sleeping ritual. Gently curled around a sturdy branch, the tail of the winged creature served as a comfortable support as it surrendered to restorative sleep.

As the winged creature drifted into slumber, its keen senses captured the soft sounds of Pandora's forest. Between the whisper of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal animals, a strange sound broke the stillness of the night: hurried and restless footsteps echoing through the darkness.

Suddenly awakened, the winged creature rose from its repose, its wings extending promptly as it prepared to investigate the origin of the mysterious sounds. Its eyes, shining with silent determination, scanned the surrounding environment, searching for any hint of danger or intrusion.

Among the shadows of the trees, it caught fleeting movements, indistinct shapes darting swiftly through the forest. With senses alert and heart pounding, the winged creature prepared to follow the unknown steps, ready to face any challenge that crossed its path.

This teenage Na'vi, with short hair swaying to the rhythm of his run, contrasted with the slender silhouette of the trees. His furrowed brows in concentration betrayed an urgency in his step.

Watching with fascination and curiosity, the winged creature felt its heart pulsating in tune with the excitement of the night. With wings flexed in readiness, it prepared to follow the Na'vi, guided as much by curiosity as by the determination to unravel the mystery behind the young man's nocturnal run.

As it hovered in the shadows of the forest, the winged creature silently accompanied the Na'vi, its presence almost imperceptible among the towering trees.

As the winged creature approached the teenage Na'vi, it realized that he was no longer in a frantic run, but instead immersed in serene contemplation of the surrounding environment. He paused in a clearing in the forest, his eyes expressing reverence for the beauty of Pandora's nature.

The Na'vi gazed in admiration at the twinkling stars that dotted the night sky, as if each one told a unique and captivating story. His eyes danced between the shadows of the trees and the silhouettes of the forest creatures, capturing the vibrant essence.

In the instant the winged creature approached the teenage Na'vi, a small and unexpected noise echoed through the forest. The sound of a twig breaking under the creature's paw disrupted the serene peace of the night, causing the Na'vi to startle with surprise.

His eyes widened momentarily, capturing the sudden movement of the winged creature. For a moment, the Na'vi seemed tense, his posture stiffened in alertness at the unexpected noise in the calm of the forest.

Aware of its own presence and the startle it caused, the winged creature retreated gently, its eyes expressing a sincere apology for the incident. It raised its wings in a gesture of submission, trying to convey to the Na'vi that it posed no threat.

Despite the differences between the winged creature and the teenage Na'vi, a special connection began to emerge between them, a bond that transcended the barriers of their distinct species. Like distant sisters who reunite after years of separation, they discovered an unexpected affinity, a harmony that flowed between them like a gentle stream.

Though reluctant to part from their newfound friend, the teenage Na'vi recognized the importance of returning home quickly, where he would be safer from imminent dangers. He cast a final farewell glance to the winged creature, promising to return to meet her at a safer time.

The winged creature, though saddened by her new friend's impending departure, nodded in understanding, knowing that the teenage Na'vi's safety was paramount. She waved her hands in a farewell gesture, promising to keep watch and protect the forest until they could meet again. And so, as the night progressed and the stars twinkled in the sky, the winged creature remained as a solitary guardian of the forest, eagerly awaiting her friend's return and the hope of better days.

With its wings tucked in and its tail carefully wrapped around itself, it plunged into a peaceful sleep, seeking refuge in the safety of the cave's darkness.

The soft light of the moon filtered through the natural openings of the cave, bathing the interior in a silvery glow. The distant murmur of the forest echoed through the stone walls, creating a gentle symphony that cradled the winged creature in its comforting peace.

Within the cave, the winged creature found temporary refuge from the concerns of the outside world. It dreamed of distant landscapes, its mind wandering freely among the realms of imagination as it rested under the protection of earth and stone. As it slept, the winged creature breathed deeply, feeling safe and protected in its hidden sanctuary. Despite the challenges and uncertainties that awaited outside, there in the quiet darkness of the cave, it found a sense of peace and serenity that enveloped it like a comforting embrace from nature.

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ღ

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

[captaincapsicle83]

The Stark Internship

The Avenger Series - Part One

Masterlist

"Yes he should be-" The nice blonde lady said, possibly the same one you spoke to on the phone. Her voice sounded familiar. She had told you when to arrive, 10:30 am.

Arrive where? The Stark Tower, house of Stark Enterprises. A prestigious company ran by the man who had become the youngest CEO to take hold of a company, after his father's death when he was around 20 years old.

The nice blonde lady was taking you up the glass elevator, and through it, you got a view of the city. In all its trashy reality, you found it quite beautiful. Of course, thats coming from someone raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Canadian town.

Well, not really raised. That wasn't the right word the way you spent your childhood. No, it was the house you lived in when you weren't in a boarding school, when you weren't at an awards ceremony, and when you weren't being interviewed for being a "Child Prodigy."

The elevator opened up to a pristinely kept floor, the tunes of ACDC blasting through your eardrums. You thought the traffic on the street was loud, yet this was like thunder clapping in your head.

"Hold on, Sweetie," The blonde woman touched your arm, her voice kind. It's turns shrill and seems to be full of anger as she screams, "TONY!"

Your hands go up to your ears at the blindsiding change of energy. You drop them just as quickly, shaking them as you follow the woman, and her clicking heals.

"So, you go to MIT?" She asks you, voice kind again. You had been so distracted when she told you her name, all you could come up with were states. It was definitely a state, but which one...

Maryland?

"Uhm...yeah. I- I got a letter, and a scholarship to go there. And uh... My guidance counselor wanted to set me up for an internship at a tech company," You were explaining, and she seemed genuinely interested as the two of you walked through what seemed to be the towers lab-area floor. "I...I got a lot of offers, but uh...I picked this one. It seemed..."

You voice trailed off ad you walked through automatic doors, that opened up to a room filled with things you'd dreamed of, and seen in magazines and on TV. It was a tech geeks wet dream, and you were guilty of the stereotype.

"Different," you finished your sentence, barely audible.

You were mostly focused on mechanical engineering. You planned to double major in something after those four years were up (you were two years in). You hadn't picked what yet.

You had started at MIT at 16 (technically 15, you had a late birthday). Although, you had graduated from secondary school officially at 13.

You had wanted to go to a real college, in person, not just online like your mother wanted. You wanted the experience.

You wanted to be in the world.

Also, you ran track for MITs team. Just for fun. And for the record, you were good.

The music on this floor seemed to originate, and be the loudest, in this room.

"TONY!" You regrettably flinch again at the unexpected snap of noise.

The man working at a silver table seemed unbothered, although you got the notion he heard her.

Half of Manhattan heard her.

You could now see the clutter of the lab. The tools scattered hazardously over all the surfaces. Projects, both finished and seemingly discarded ones, lay everywhere, in their own heaps.

The woman clicks a button on the wall, and the music dies away. Not looking up from the panel he was working on, the brown haired man says, "Don't turn down my music. We've been over this."

"Well, Tony, your intern is here, and I'm not just gonna leave her on your doorstep like a lost puppy," The blonde lady's eyes roll, and her tone makes you understand that, whoever she is, she's probably the most reasonable, sensible person around here.

Tony abandons his project to spin around in his stool to face you.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, why didn't you alert me that my intern was here?" He looks up at the ceiling, as if expecting Jesus to answer.

And he does.

"Sorry sir, but, you've threatened me many times that you don't like me speaking over your music."

Oh no. Oh God. Jesus is here, in the ceiling, and he's British. You always knew stealing candy from that blind priest would catch up to you.

"Then turn the music off."

"The music is off, sir."

"Are you serio-!?"

"Sir, your intern is here."

Tony gives the ceiling a nasty look, scoffing, before clapping his hands and turning his attention towards you.

"Jesus is British?" You ask, getting all your priorities straight out of the gate.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. It's Just A Rather Very Intelligent System," Tony smirks, looking pleased with himself.

You blink. You wonder why you have to think about blinking so often. "It's an acronym."

"Oh goodie. Thank you Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome."

Tony sighs for a good ten seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose, before gathering himself. "Take a seat, Mr. Starks class is starting."

You looked around the lab. Among the clutter, and among the hazards, you came to the conclusion that the only seat was the one Stark was sitting at, a poor excuse of a stool.

"There aren't any," You say, in an even tone. Tony was perplexed, how you had done basically nothing, yet stepped on every nerve he had.

"Then...lesson one! Build a chair," He said gleefully.

"I didn't sign up for a woodworking class," you cross your arms, and the smug smile drops from his face. The first emotion you expressed besides indifference, and it just had to be snarky.

You just had to be like him.

You earned a seat at the table. Minor correction- on the table. You pushed aside a very expensive looking piece of equipment, and it clattered to the floor.

You hopped up onto the surface, and smiled at his blank face.

"What the hell?" You shrug, and he waves it off, turning back to his work. "How old are you."

"Eighteen...next month," you say, picking at your fingertips, but also watching his project closely. He seemed to work on autopilot, like he didn't have to think at all.

"Hmm," He says, nodding, with a smile on his face. You got the notion he liked you. You annoyed him, you confused him, yet he liked you. "Go to any cool parties recently?"

He was getting you something to work on. He had a basic blueprint, a holographic sketch, that you were admiring as he gathered your tools.

"I've never been to a party," you say. You take the titanium alloy, and lay it out in front of you as you grab a tape measure. You spread it over Tony's chest, and he spreads his arms out for you as you do so.

You could've been a tailor, you thought. Move to Romania, or Sokovia, live in a quaint little shop. Nonetheless, measurements were elementary to you, as were most things. Like astrophysics or quantum science.

"Well, what do you and your geek burger friends do then," He pops a cherry twizzler in his mouth and you turn back to your titanium. He watches you hesitate. Watches you fumble on where to set the tape measure, before you speak again.

"You should make it red and gold, can we do that? Like Captain America was red, white, and blue. It's about the marketing process of things. The capitalism in it," you say, clearly interested in the propaganda of things. You pull up old Captain America adds from the forties on your clear pop up screen.

Tony analyzed you for a bit, long enough for you to turn your head since you were clearly expecting an answer. "Yeah," He nodded. "Red and gold works. Whatever floats your boat Miss America."

You smiled warmly, it lighting up your whole face. You had moved onto the repulser technology Tony had planned.

People weren't easy. They weren't predictable like other things in the world. You couldn't use stoichiometry to figure out what would happen when you started a conversation with someone.

And Tony Stark may not have been predictable either, in fact he was the opposite. He was impulsive, if nothing else. But you liked talking to him. It felt...

It felt like what having a friend felt like. What you remember it feeling like.

And Tony seemed to like you too, and although you couldn't fathom as to why, you accepted it.

Embraced it, actually. His dialect and diction rubbed off on you.

☆ ☆ ☆

"I don't think it's the best idea," you were saying. Tony stood in front of you, dressed in the titanium alloy suit you had helped create. One of many, someday hoped to be millions.

"I do, you trust me, don't you?" His little metal helmet tilted to the side. The tone of voice he was using was the one you recognized as how he got Pepper to do things he wanted. Pepper being the blonde woman who had first greeted you.

"Do you trust me?" You asked back. In your left hand was a repulsor, ready to beam a bright light.

"A suit of armor around the world," Tony had said. "That's what I want. To just...make everything..."

"Controlled?"

"Protected, y/n. When horrible things come, not only would we be able to stop it, but they'd be protected in the end."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I trust you. With my life. More than anyone. You're the smartest person I know, and you know better than anyone how to work these kinds of things."

"You're the hero. I'm just...I'm not sure I'd be so good at that."

"You don't need to be so scared."

"Im not scared. But I'm also not a hero."

" You can be."

So here you stood, armed for target practice. And for whatever bright idea he seemed to always have, Tony's newest was making himself the target.

"Of course. With my life," He makes a motion of crossing his heart, making you laugh a little. "Okay Wonder Kid. Ready, set-"

You shoot from your hand before the go comes, knocking Tony to the side, and a hole in the back wall of his mansion.

"Oops," you say sheepishly. Tony is laughing inside his suit, you can tell, and Pepper suddenly comes out onto the lawn.

"What is going-! Tony, what is this?" She looks at him, as he steps out of the suit, and towards you.

"Target practice," you shrugged, as Tony was adjusting the repulsor loosely strapped to your hand.

"Isn't she doing great?" Tony cooed at you, as if you were a small dog learning tricks.

"NO!" Pepper gasped.

"I told I didn't think it was a good idea using one of these outside of a suit," you say. The two of you were barely holding it together over Pepper's distraught state.

"Then why'd you do it?" He says in a mocking tone, obviously knowing why.

"'Cause I trust you...Clearly a horrible decision."

"Yeah, my wall thinks so."

☆☆☆

You had a room in the tower. It was empty, mostly, but not as bare as when you had gotten here. You took a lot of pictures, that Tony allowed (did not have the knowledge of) you to print on the tenth floor. You hung them up on your walls, and on your bedframe. It made the place less lonely.

It was dark out, and you were sitting on your bed, one leg hanging off. The overhead light was off, but your small bedside lamp illuminated your writing space.

It was an idea you had when you were young. To keep notes on the people you met. Things you wanted to remember about them, their personalities, who they were. It helped your brain, to organize things better.

You were sure most people kept lists like these on a subconscious level. And maybe one day you wouldn't feel the need to write that Tony Stark was genuis or a billionaire. Or that he was your friend.

But you liked the safety net. You liked knowing that it was something you could turn to. Something you could reread, something that ensured you would never forget.

Next part

[hooked-on-elvis]

[BEHIND THE RECORD - Elvis onstage from 1969 to 1977] "I Can't Stop Loving You"

Written by country singer Don Gibson, who first recorded it in 1957, RCA Victor released "I Can't Stop Loving You" in 1958, and it became a country hit single. The song was covered by many artists over the years, most notable one being Ray Charles, in 1962, due to how he turned the tune into a No. 1 single on the Billboard chart.

Elvis Presley performed the song in many iconic concerts of his career - from 1969 into the 70s.

The first time Elvis Presley was recorded singing "I CAN'T STOP LOVING YOU" was during one of the American Sound Studio sessions, on February 1969. It wasn't an official recording tho. A jam version of the tune was recorded while EP was warming up with his musicians so they could cut the songs that would be released in his LPs for the times following — "From Elvis In Memphis" being the album this recording session was intending to create at first.

Not long after this recording session, "I Can't Stop Loving You" was worked up as a number to Elvis' concerts. Rearranged, the song gained a more dramatic tone than we can listen to from how it originally sounded in Elvis' voice at the recording taped at the American Sound Studio previously, so from this moment on Elvis would perform the tune in quite a few iconic concerts of the latter era of his career, the very start being during his comeback to live performances on July/August 1969, onstage at the International Hotel's showroom in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Soundboard audios with "I Can't Stop Loving You" recorded during his concerts, including in 1969, were released on some his live albums throughout the years, such as "FROM MEMPHIS TO VEGAS (IN PERSON)" [recorded in 1969], "ELVIS AS RECORDED AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN" (recorded in 1972) and "ELVIS: RECORDED LIVE ON STAGE IN MEMPHIS" (recorded in 1974).

Live performances of Elvis singing the song were also officially taped, and they are very known to the fans for obvious reasons because they are part of some of the most notable moments of Elvis' history as a performer.

First official taping of EP performing "I Can't Stop Loving You" live took place during one of his engagement seasons at the International Hotel on August, 1970, as released on "Elvis: That's The Way It Is" documentary, then again on April 1972, filmed for "Elvis On Tour" documentary, and not long after that another performance of this tune was filmed during the "Aloha From Hawaii via Satellite" concert, on January 1973.

BUT, BEFORE WE CAN GO TO THOSE FOOTAGES, HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE JAM VERSION RECORDED IN STUDIO IN 1969?

— NOTE FROM AUTHOR I love sharing Elvis' performances of the same song over the years, but what I would really love you to listen to now is the 1969 jam version of the song we're talking about, for it sounds so different from the live performances the fans are already very familiar with. I didn't knew about this recording until a few days ago and I loved it so much that this track is the reason why I needed to talk about this song. You will read about the moment EP was recording this song soon after.

Elvis Presley in the waiting room of the American Sound Studio, early 1969.

▼ FEBRUARY, 1969: "I CAN'T STOP LOVING YOU", RECORDED AT THE AMERICAN SOUND STUDIO, MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE.

Song starts at 0:35

Album: American Sound 1969 (2019)

It was an American Studio tradition: paying tribute to the chief with a rendition of “This Time,” a Chips Moman-penned hit for Troy Shondell in 1961. Elvis had heard about the rite, and he serenaded his producer at the start of the February session with the few lines that he knew, segueing into Don Gibson’s “It’s My Way,” a song he had asked Freddy to check out the year before. Plunking along on his acoustic guitar, laughing at his own mistakes but singing his heart out, he drew the band into another Don Gibson number, “I Can’t Stop Loving You,” which he would transform into a dramatic show-stopper six month later in Las Vegas. Excerpt from "Elvis Presley: A Life In Music" by Ernst Jorgensen and Peter Guralnick.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

— NOTE FROM AUTHOR COOL, ISN'T IT? 😍 Have you heard the 1969 jam session version before? Don't know about you but I just can't stop loving it. So, now let's hear how that baby sound onstage.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[FOOTAGE]

LIVE PERFORMANCES OVER THE YEARS

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

REHEARSAL ▼

July, 1970.

LIVE ONSTAGE ▼

"Elvis: That's The Way It Is" (August 1970) "Elvis On Tour" (April 1972)

"Aloha From Hawaii via Satellite" (January 14, 1973)

RECORDED LIVE ▼

Live at Convention Center Arena, San Antonio, TX (April 18, 1972)

Live at Madison Square Garden (June 10, 1972)

High Sierra Theatre at the Sahara Tahoe Hotel, Nevada (May 13, 1973)

Live at Mid-South Coliseum, Memphis, TN - March 1974

Song starts at 0:38:

I can never get enough of how Elvis' history is so amazing. ♥

What are your thoughts about the jam version of "I Can't Stop Loving You" by EP? I'd love to hear from you.

By the way, do you like this track-to-track-history posts? I've written some so far but I have some others I'd like to share too. If you have any requests, any Elvis Presley songs you'd like to know more about the recording sessions or comparisons of the times a same tune was performed live by Elvis over the years, feel free to hit me with it. I sure will have great fun researching it for you.

[kaiowut99]

A Special Announcement~ | Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Tag Force Special Re-Translation Project!

I've been itching to get around to posting about this for a few months now, but wanted to wait until I'd worked on enough for it, but also had the idea to create an announcement trailer to go with it for added good measure--after recording and editing clips for a couple weeks and leveling the audio last night, heremst we are! (For some clips, I forgot to turn off the PPSSPP emulator's DevMenu option so that shows up in the top-left, buuut I didn't feel like re-recording those, lmao.)

Details worth reading below the cut here, but tl;dr work has been in progress for over a year in between things, work will continue to be in progress for a while, and the release will happen when everything's ready, but stay tuned, fun's getting started etc etc~

So, I'm sure most of us are familiar with the as-yet-unlocalized-by-Konami TFSP, the seventh and last entry in the Tag Force series on the PSP that came out early in ARC-V's run (featuring the first five series which was a cool first), as well as the current translations out there originally worked on by the guys at XenoTranslations (omarrrio and ScrewTheRules/ClickClaxer01 at GBATemp handling the card and story/etc translations, respectively) and how there are... some issues with what's out there. Everything from the DM story mode being loaded with YGOTAS references (no shade to YGOTAS and much respect to LK/Martin for his ongoing work on it still making me laugh sometimes, ofc) to the off-the-cuff edginess of 2014-2015-era internet culture and the problematic (in some cases, derogatory) language that permeated it--though to its credit, some parts do have some level of translation attempted, but taken as a whole, it can definitely turn people off from giving the game a try and seeing what it brings to the table (which is still a good amount despite the corners Konami cut here/there compared to prior TF games).

I actually did attempt a translation of my own back in 2015 (if you've been following me for a long time, you might remember it lol), tackling the GX story text starting with Judai's heart events, but eventually put it on the backburner as I focused more on my GX subbing work and beginning to finalize everything (which I'm still doing). Sometime in 2022, a friend over on NeoArkCradle (the "anonymous YGO fan" in the opening screen) was poring over the story text and patching it up the best he could to remove the references and inaccuracies with more coherent work, and after a while of seeing what he was working with in the Discord, I was a bit blown away by just how inaccurate much of it was--so alongside him, and using the better tools available since then (including some really awesome work from both nzxth2 [who did a proper re-translation of 5D's TF6 not too long ago and was kind enough to release his tools for it] and our coding helper Xan1242 who we eventually reached out to for some help), I decided to *cracks knuckles* get involved and help give everything a more accurate and professional translation, much like I do with my GX subs, working directly off the Japanese text and files. I've been taking cracks at everything in between the GX episodes I've been finalizing going back to at least last January (and I'd used my little hiatus after finalizing GX Season 2's subs to really get at some other stuff throughout the game), starting with re-translating DM's story text but also properly translating other aspects of the game, from the character names (using the original Japanese names, including those of the TF-exclusive characters, partly since Konami made a whole mess of them in English TF1-5), in-duel dialogue, pack descriptions, and more to images with Japanese text (such as localizing the in-duel cut-in onomatopoeia as you see in the video above, or other little images throughout) using some Photoshop skills I've picked up. And it's been a joint effort, as said NAC friend and I have been bouncing off how we'd like to see this go between us to stay on the same page and all, while also checking with other translators there for second/third opinions as needed.

Our plan is to release two versions of a translation--one which uses the OCG [translated] card names in Story Mode, in-duel, and other text but not in the game's card system (mainly to deal with story-relevant notes like Osiris vs Slifer with the Gods or things like not-Utopia Hope being symbolic between Yuma and Astral, akin to how I do my GX subs), and one which uses the TCG card names in everything (like how the official subs go about it). While we're mostly working with the Japanese game files due to how the Xeno team went about decoding everything, we'll be using the card-system-related files from the fixed ISO provided by FLSGaming which fixed some issues that had been present there. And Xan has helped us with a plugin that will be used to apply our translations to the system files that were hard to edit otherwise (things like the character and recipe names, as well as the pack names pulled from for the Card Description screen), but more on how that'll work once this is ready for release, lol. At some point, I'd like to also look at HDifying textures and things, but that's definitely a bonus-level thing for after the main work here is done.

SO.

Currently, Story-Mode-wise, I've gone through everything up to Yusei's events--so Dark Yugi/Kaiba/Jounouchi/Ishizu/Mai in DM, Judai/Manjoume/Asuka/Misawa/Ryou in GX, and Yusei in 5D's have been fully retranslated, though I took initial cracks at Yuma and Yuya's events to get content for this video lol (I've also been intentionally holding off on as much ZEXAL as I can until I've properly watched the whole show so I have context). I haven't tackled overworld text yet, though (like pre-duel or the tournament-related text, which is all in the same file as all the story text). I've also been handling the in-duel dialogue as I go through the character stories, so also just up to Yusei, though I did take initial cracks at Aki's, Yuma and Shark's, and Yuya and Yuzu's for the video.

Other things tackled that were sprinkled into the video, along with some other notes:

Pack names and descriptions have been retranslated, though the descriptions may see minor edits closer to release for a little variety between worlds given the different characters at the shop. Character recipe names were also retranslated, with Yugipedia's translations for them used as an occasional second opinion, though ones based on pack names had to be abbreviated in spots.

Menu text, from the Options to Help screens and stuff in between, has been retranslated, as have in-duel text strings (so, you'll see a full "Activate Effect" instead of "Activate" or "Switch to Attack/Defense Position" instead of "Switch to ATK/DEF Position", etc--also fixed the "BATTELE PHASE" graphic typo, and NAC friend created a new translation for the "Turn Change" graphic for accuracy since ENG TF1-5 made that into "Next Player's Turn").

Database stuff, such as the Sound Test, Tutorials, Duel Missions, etc., have been retranslated closer to the Japanese text; originally I retranslated the Tutorial text via hex editor, with compromises done on quite a bit of it due to the space limits, but as Xan recently updated a text extractor tool of theirs to more cleanly pull out and reinsert that text, I've been going through and fleshing out those translations more (on my commutes to/from work mostly, to be productive lol).

As mentioned, I've been localizing/translating Japanese-text images throughout the game as I come across them, like with the in-duel onomatopoeia that come up during cut-ins or images in the shop/duel/etc screens using Japanese text, to make sure the game is fully translated.

The series logos, used during the title sequence and in the Series Select screens, were updated with translated fan edits shared on Deviantart (which we'll credit in the final release) for DM and GX, while the 5D's-ARC-V logos were edited to enlarge the "Yu-Gi-Oh!" text on them that was pretty hard to see originally.

The game's original opening sequence starts on an anti-piracy message before going into the Konami logo and then a "From Yu-Gi-Oh!..." screen before the opening animation for each series logo--the original team decided to use the first image to vent their frustration at Konami for not localizing this game, and while that's valid (to some extent), we thought we'd use the opportunity to dedicate this project to Kazuki Takahashi for inspiring our love for YGO and the place it's had in our hearts for all these years.

We'll be updating the names of cards that had TCG releases after the original patch was worked on/updated by FLSG to those corresponding names.

Xan has been working on many UI fixes for us to apply with this, among them 3-line dialogue box text as is used in the ENG TF1-5 games--once implemented for TFSP, I'll be going over everything to make full use of that extra space where needed, so things might not look as they do in the video by then.

Character bios will be worked on after I've done the story stuff, though I've taken initial cracks at it for Yuma and Yuya's bios for the video, along with translating the location/affiliation names ("Domino High School," "Satellite," etc).

Currently no release date is planned, as I'm working on this between my GX-finalizing work and actual IRL work, though we'll see how later this year looks as more work gets done--but as noted in the video, all things being equal, it will be released when everything is ready. I'll try to post regular updates or rambles now that this announcement's been made, lol, but do try not to constantly check in on a release date. 🙏🏽

All that said, I think that covers just about everything I wanted to put out there with this, lol. It's been fun to work on this so far and getting to see what I've re-translated in-game is definitely neat; looking forward to us being able to release everything when ready.

Stay tuned for more; the fun's just getting started!

[apteryxparvus]

hope you're having a pleasant day, also congratulations on your 100 followers.

i was wondering if i could ask a street musician reader and a passerby scara fic. ik it doesn't have much explanation but i hope i can leave it to you😞

Thank you! I'm a bit late with this request, but I hope you enjoy it. I completely fell in love with the idea of Scaramouche and street musician reader 🥰

Part of my ✨ 100 followers milestone event ✨ that ran from September 2nd to September 9th.

Pairing — Scaramouche / Reader

Word count — 2,922 words

Content warning — mentions of alcohol

Scaramouche strolls along the bustling stalls of Port Ormos, immersing himself in the symphony of sounds. The air buzzes with the echoes of lively merchants and customers trying to haggle over prices. Kids dart around, gleeful shouts adding to the cacophony. The rhythmic clatter of artisans’ tools echo from the nearby workshops.

The fragrant aroma of spices mingles with the smell of freshly baked goods. Nearby, a vendor proudly displays an array of ripe fruits — from plump and succulent Zaytun peaches, to imported Lavender melons and spicy Jueyun chilies.

Scaramouche pauses, and his gaze meets the warm smile of the vendor. He stays silent, feeling the weight of the curious gaze upon him. With a soft humph, he lowers his wide-brimmed hat, casting a shadow over his face. He continues on his way, his steps purposeful and gaze fixed straight ahead — he tells himself he must stay fixated on the mission, that he must not get sidetracked by the vibrant distractions, nor draw any attention to himself.

He remains composed, a ghost in the crowd, blending seamlessly.

Yet when Scaramouche turns the corner, his hearing is enveloped by a soft voice. A familiar melody resounds in the air, and his heart skips a beat as he recognizes it instantly. He cannot help but be drawn towards the source of the enchanting voice.

There, in the midst of the bustling street, you stand, a lone street performer.

His steps falter as he approaches you. He stands between the other onlookers, his presence like a moth drawn to a flame.

You’re unaware of Scaramouche’s inner turmoil, and continue to raise your voice, your own rendition of the Inazuman song filled with burning passion and purity.

“Kare wa yasei no iro ni michita sekai o samayoi masu,

Jishin no seigen wa naku, kokoro wa fukaku.

Kabukimono, kabukimono…”

Time stands still. The lyrics evoke a lost meaning known only to him, memories he had long locked away. His chest constricts as he feels the weight of the past press upon him.

The last notes of the tune float into the air, and the crowd erupts in response. A few individuals drop mora into your hat, expressing their gratitude for the performance. You nod in sincere appreciation, a humble smile making its way to your lips.

Scaramouche waits patiently for the last of the onlookers to disperse. You crouch on the ground, gathering the coins and placing them into a leather pouch. The Inazuman steps closer to you, his hat casting a shadow over your figure. The weight of his presence draws your attention, and you raise your head, eyes wide with curiosity.

There’s an air of mystery cloaking him.

You straighten up and pat down your pants. “You’re Inazuman, right?” you enquire. His eyes widen for a split second, confirming your suspicions.

“The song,” he starts, struggling to find the right words.

“The Ballad of a Kabukimono,” you reply, a knowing smile on the corner of your lips. “A forgotten tale of a wandering Inazuman eccentric. No one really knows its origins.”

“The melody is different,” Scaramouche states.

You let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “Yes,” you admit. “The original felt too somber for my taste. I want to make people feel joy, rather than melancholy.”

Scaramouche huffs, muttering something under his breath. A hint of indignation stirs within you — if he has so displeased with the performance, why did he stay until the very end? He had the opportunity to walk away at any moment, yet he didn’t.

A rebuttal stirs within you, but before you can react, the Inazuman reaches into his belongings and takes out a hefty pouch, throwing it at your feet. The coins jiggle, and you watch speechless as he turns his back to you and leaves without uttering another word.

You stand amidst the scattered coins, confusion deepening. Stooping low, you gather the shiny mora, cursing at yourself for being so caught up in the moment, you had not even thought to ask his name.

The same night, Scaramouche strolls through the now-empty streets. Once bustling, the market now stands quiet and deserted, with only a handful of passersby leisurely walking past the closed stalls. Silence permeates the air.

His puppet body carries a deep ache.

His mission was a success — he had effortlessly infiltrated the nearby treasure hoarder camp, quickly retrieving the stolen Ruin Guard cores, along with a plethora of Fontanian and Snezhnayan machinery. The thieves were caught off guard; and he didn’t even need to rely on his Anemo Vision.

But despite the ease of the task and the triumph alongside it, he feels weariness settle upon his mind. A sense of monotony weighs upon him.

And the lingering melody of the song from his past stubbornly clings to his thoughts. It infuriates him, intensifying the restlessness he feels. He finds himself revisiting the memory of your voice — how it soared, building to a powerful crescendo, how you carefully enunciated each syllable of the language long forgotten.

He passes by the spot where he had witnessed your performance — it’s empty. He mentally chides himself for foolishly believing you would remain there throughout the entire day. The generous sum he had given you, along with the contributions from the other onlookers, would undoubtedly provide you a temporary respite from busking.

He feels a slight twinge of disappointment.

His weary gaze catches the flickering lights of a nearby tavern, the warm glow beckoning him. He heads towards the establishment, hoping to find some form of solace in the warmth and anonymity of the tavern; hoping to dull the ache within his soul with a drink or two.

Scaramouche steps inside the tavern, welcomed by the warm glow of the low-hanging lights. The wooden walls are adorned with paintings of the lush green foliage of Dharma Forest, while grainy photographs of Sumeru’s bustling cities add depth to the surroundings. Lively conversations fill the air — cheery and tipsy voices rise and fall; the noise mingles with the clinking of glasses.

His gaze sweeps across the crowded tavern, searching for a secluded place to settle. His eyes lock onto a hidden nook, and there, nestled in that corner, he spots your familiar figure. You’re sitting there, oblivious to the world, engrossed in your own daydreams, with a glass of a milky, effervescent beverage.

As if guided by an invisible force, he takes a few long strides towards the table and takes a seat beside you.

You look up, startled, but your gaze narrows in a split second. “Well, well, well,” you say, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. “We meet again, mysterious wanderer.”

“Mind if I join?”

“Of course, please, have a seat.” As he settles, you take a sip from your palm wine, the milky and powerfully sweet flavors dancing on your tongue. “It seems our encounters are becoming more frequent, no?”

Scaramouche scoffs, and you take another leisurely sip from the drink.

The silence around you carries a hint of lingering tension.

“Say,” you break the stillness. “Would a drink or two make you a better conversation partner?” you lightheartedly joke. “I am willing to offer the first round.”

The male smirks, mischief dancing in his indigo eyes. He leans back in his chair. “Since you’re probably using the mora I gave you for the drinks, I’d say the first round is actually on me.”

“I assure you, the drinks I buy are funded by my own pocket money.” You lean in closer, locking eyes with him.

“Regardless, I accept your offer.”

“Two palm wines coming right up,” you exclaim, already on your way to order from the gruff-looking bartender. 

Navigating through the crowd back to the table, you carefully balance the newly obtained drinks. You place them before Scaramouche and sit down. A moment later, you lift your glass in a toast. “Kanpai!” you exclaim in old Inazuman.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on yours for a brief moment, before he slowly raises his own glass. “You speak old Inazuman,” he comments.

“A few phrases here and there,” you admit, a flustered look spreading across your face. “I lived in Tatarasuna as a child, and I had the opportunity to learn a bit from the locals.”

The mention of Tatarasuna brings forth a wave of melancholic nostalgia; of fleeting memories of joyous faces, caked in soothe, of cooking lessons and exhilarating sword dances. He closes his eyes and sees the noxious black gas, with its haunting tendrils seeping across the surface of the once idyllic island.

Scaramouche raises his glass to his lips, taking a long, deliberate swig. He struggles to push back the rising tide of memories; struggles to push back the bile rising in his throat.

You notice the somber expression that crosses his face. “I’m sorry,” you say softly.

He meets your gaze, and you observe a subtle shift in his indigo eyes, how they darken. His demeanor is guarded, but in that split second, you see a glimmer of vulnerability. “Tell me more,” he inquires. “About the song, about your life in Tatarasuna.”

You nod, and take a moment to collect your thoughts. Leaning back against the chair, you recount the days of your childhood. You tell him about your parents — true adventurers at heart, with an insatiable thirst for exploration.

“They took me on countless journeys across Teyvat,” you start. “From the rolling plains of Mondtstadt, to the stone forests in Liyue. But those places, so easy to reach, were never enough for them.”

You recount the events that led the three of you to wash ashore upon the rocky outcrops of Kannazuka Island in Inazuma — a botched smuggling operation, led by an inexperienced sailor. You were stuck between two warring states — the Inazuma Shogunate and the Watatsumi Army. Amidst the chaos, a few brave locals defied the Electro Archon’s will, and extended a helping hand.

Within the safety of their village, they shared their crafts with you — under their guidance, you were introduced to the art of pottery, their steady hands guiding yours, allowing you to shape pots that held both practicality and an aesthetic appeal; you learned to weave silk, creating vibrant brocades that told stories of your past. They taught your parents the secrets of tending a garden, how to nurture each plant; they taught them the arts of stealth, of resourcefulness — they’d guide them through the thick forests, teaching them how to identify edible berries and how to track elusive prey without drawing the attention of wandering samurais or the warring armies.

“The villagers shared their stories, their own experiences. They told me about the legendary Mikage Furnace, about its role in shaping the community. But they also passed down folk songs… tales of mythical gods and primordial creatures.”

You take a sip of your drink. “The song I played today, it’s the one that I found the most fascinating. Even as a child, something about its haunting composition and the meaning behind the lyrics called out to me. The villagers themselves had no records of the origin of the melody, but they spoke of this restless longing they would feel each time it was performed.”

Scaramouche stays silent, as you take a moment to savor the last of your drink. You set the empty glass down. “I’ve always found myself wondering about the shadowy figure and his history…”

“Sing the original,” he demands, leaning in closer. “And I will tell you the truth behind the kabukimono.” His lilac eyes lock into yours, holding such intensity that it sends shivers down your spine. You almost squirm under the weight of his scrutiny, but you quickly compose yourself when you notice the raw melancholy swimming in his eyes.

You nod, accepting. “Alright then, I’ll sing the original for you,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting your voice escape your lips.

The melody merges with the clamor of the tavern, but hidden in your little corner, the noise becomes irrelevant. Several patrons steal a few curious glances at you, their expressions a mixture of confusion and indifference, but they quickly divert their attention elsewhere, finding more interesting distractions.

But Scaramouche listens intently, penetrating gaze fixed on your lips, tracing every movement as the foreign syllables flow.

The final note fades upon your lips, and, completely entranced in the heartbreaking story of the eccentric, you don’t notice the lone tear that escapes your eye, leaving a damp trail down your cheek in the melody’s wake.

Silence stretches between you. Surprise flits across your features at the sight of the watery eyes behind Scaramouche’s stoic mask — he, who had at first displayed such aloofness and indifference, now seems stricken by genuine grief.

“Your song… stirs long buried memories,” he begins with a soft voice, answering your quiet, wordless inquiry. “In a past life, I too knew about the ache of aimless wandering, untethered and alone.”

His words linger in the air, a whispered revelation, one that hints at the depths of his own past.

Scaramouche exhales a heavy sigh, his stoic façade returning. “But a promise is a promise,” he says.

You shift uncomfortably. “Look,” you start, voice filled with concern. “If this brings you pain, there’s no need to continue. We can leave it be.”

He shakes his head, a flicker of determination crossing his features. “The kabukimono from the song… he was a puppet sculpted by the hand of the Electro Archon, intended to house the divine Gnosis. Yet, upon his creation, he shed genuine tears, and in his imperfection, he was carelessly cast aside.”

His words hang in the air, painting a tragic picture of a being cast aside by the very same hands that brought him to life.

“His divine powers were sealed, and he was locked away in a deep slumber,” he continues, voice laced with a mix of sorrow and resignation. “Until a samurai found him and took him in, despite his origins. The puppet formed a bond with the samurai and his companions.”

Scaramouche’s gaze turns distant, as if lost in memories. A sigh escapes him. “But then, tragedy struck. The puppet thought himself betrayed for the second time, and so he left, abandoning the only bonds he’d ever truly known.”

“His life was one of great suffering,” you quietly muse. Still, a doubt nags at the edges of your mind. “But how can you be certain this is the true origin of the song? Akademiya records tell a completely different tale of the Tatarasune Incident…” you trail off.

“The Akademiya is not infallible,” Scaramouche states bluntly, crossing his arms.

“But… the Akasha… the scholars have been able to preserve knowledge for generations,” you counter weakly.

“Not every truth stored is truly truthful,” he retorts. “Perhaps the kabukimono wished for his own story to remain unknown.”

You contemplate his words. “How can you be so certain?” you ask.

A subtle smirk ghosts his lips, and in an instant, clarity washes over you.

“You’re… you’re the kabukimono,” you breathe a sigh of disbelief and awe. The implications settle in your mind like the final pieces of an intricate puzzle. It all fits — the haunting melancholy in his eyes, his intricate knowledge of the past, and his willingness to share the painful truth, no matter how dark it may be.

Scaramouche remains silent, his enigmatic smirk still plastered across his face. It speaks volumes, confirming your thoughts.

Still reeling from his revelation, you meet his inscrutable gaze, a question look in your eyes. “Why reveal this to me?” you inquire, voice filled with caution. “How can you be sure that I won’t go and share this with the Akademiya scholars?”

His grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Ah, my dear street performer, it’s because I saw a kindred spirit within you. And besides, the Akademiya scholars… their pursuit of knowledge often blinds them to the depth of human experience.”

Scaramouche rises from his seat, the scraping sound of his chair against the chair breaking your thoughts. “It’s time for me to go,” he declares. “But if you’re willing, I can divulge more about the history of the kabukimono.”

You feel a flutter of anticipation at his words. “And what do you ask in return?” you inquire cautiously.

“I wish to hear more of your voice,” he admits sincerely, a surprising vulnerability seeping into his words. “If you are willing, meet me at Pharos Lighthouse, a week from now, before the break of dawn.”

And with that hopeful promise, Scaramouche departs, melting into the inky shadows of the tavern.

You remain rooted to your seat long after he takes his leave, mind reeling from the encounter. Your heart still drums erratically, head spinning, his revelations bringing up more questions than answers.

Ordering another glass of palm wine, you sip, hoping its sweet tones may calm your fraying nerves. You turn the conversation over and over, looking for a different, perhaps a deeper, meaning behind his words.

By the time your glass is empty, a weariness has settled into your bones. You offer a quiet nod of gratitude to the tavern keeper, and exit into the night.

Cool air washes over you as you step into the lamplit street, the ethereal glow of the moon overhead. And as you walk the familiar path that leads to your home, finding solace in the rhythm of the journey, the events of the night replay in your mind.

You make your way home, eager for what the future holds and the mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

*Translation of the song:

He wanders the world full of wild colors, A spirit unrestrained, a mind uncontained. Wandering eccentric.

Author's note: I AM BACK! I AM ALIVE!

University sure kicked my ass (and is still kicking it lol). I am still working on one more request, as well as the next chapter of L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R (I have not forgotten about it, I promise)