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ahundredtimesover · 3 months

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I Want You to Stay (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 15.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party.

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion.

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought.

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other.

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes.

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns.

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state.

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp.

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums.

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied.

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here.

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night.

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does.

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it.

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them.

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out.

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back.

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself.

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile.

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break.

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked.

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say.

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming.

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words.

“Okay,” she whispers in submission.

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to.

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment.

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over.

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh.

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility.

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you.

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them.

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for.

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted.

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle.

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time.

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too.

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him.

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally.

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged.

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.��

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.”

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day.

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day.

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas.

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him.

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he.

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it.

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him.

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together.

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts.

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad.

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking.

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return.

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished.

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants.

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks.

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you.

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it.

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere.

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other.

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop.

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem.

Happy birthday, it reads.

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time.

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes.

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful.

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time.

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track.

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it.

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job.

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself.

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened.

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize.

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face.

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply.

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more.

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that.

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you.

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you.

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself.

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat.

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on.

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans.

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug.

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration.

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it.

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about.

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases.

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back.

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday.

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give.

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space.

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays.

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes.

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well.

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back.

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can.

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby.

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again.

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook.

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done.

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook.

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone.

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night.

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same.

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look.

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time.

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again.

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you.

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks.

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room.

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same.

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away.

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off.

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday.

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?”

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.”

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.”

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness.

“Consideration,” you say instead.

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed.

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one.

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays.

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take.

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.”

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well.

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases.

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists.

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it.

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks.

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance.

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything.

“I will,” he nods.

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him.

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too.

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out.

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh.

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks.

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything.

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on.

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of.

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual.

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there.

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so you settle with just watching him walk away.

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone.

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar.

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

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kisakis-boyfriend · 5 months

Note

Scenario thirst/request: It’s already canon that Kaveh can’t handle his alcohol, but once he gets together with Reader he seriously needs to be cut off. Bars are gonna start denying him service bc instead of his normal complaints about some work client, he’s now complaining to any poor soul in the vicinity about how Reader’s cock is so big it’s impossible to take. Also won’t shut up about how they haven’t fucked him in ages (since yesterday) so they obviously think he’s hideous and don’t love him anymore. To top it all off he’s literally saying all of this while draped over Reader’s lap. He won’t stop whining until Reader drags him out the tavern and fucks him stupid in the alley around back.

Pairings: Kaveh x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Kaveh, handjob, biting, whiny Kaveh, semi-public sex

Genre/Format: Smut; Short scenario

Author's Note: Your mind 😳 I want to break Kaveh so badly ugh

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

The plan was to have a casual drink or two at the tavern, order a bit of food and maybe split a dessert with your beloved. You should have known better than that...

Now your beloved was whining to the tables next to yours about how your “ginormous monster cock” was just too biiiig! He can't handle taking the entire thing in his little ass but you make it fit anyways 🥺

The guests look on with irritated expressions and you mouth apologies at everyone...Kaveh's weight is sprawled out across your lap while he continues to moan and groan that it's “so so soooo biiiig–” You pinch the bridge of your nose and gulp down more of your drink as Kaveh's slender fingers tug at your shirt, drawing your attention downwards

The saddest, most pathetic expression makes it's way onto his face as he complains that, “You haven't fucked me in foreeeverrr- D'you not like me anymore...?” He slurs, pouting and sniffling. Another patron seated across from you makes eye contact and smirks, shaking their head. Everyone in the damn building can probably hear your partner's voice, seeing as alcohol tends to make him louder than usual...guess there's only one way to fix him now

“Heeeeyyy...don't push me off of– Aah!” Kaveh's startled noise draws even more attention towards the two of you as you drag him out of the bar by his arm. Passing by the owner and tossing a large pouch of mora onto the counter for all of the trouble. The blond protested the entire way out, attempting to grab the door frame so that you couldn't drag him along, though he was a bit too drunk to see straight enough to grab anything...

“Ow, owowow ooooowww!! Y/nnn...what's gotten into yo-oouu...?” Kaveh hiccuped. Your eye twitched in annoyance while your hands found their way onto the wall next to your partner's head, caging him in

“What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you! Mr. ‘My partner's cock is too fucking big uwu’?!” You whisper-yelled. Boring into Kaveh's accusatory eyes as he stammered, trying to form a response but getting cut off by your strong hands flipping him so that his torso was now pressed against the nearby wall. “If you're going to embarrass me in front of dozens of people, then I'm going to embarrass you in this alley. Whatever attention you draw is your own fault.”

At first, he did try to stay quiet, but your cock was actually pretty big and it caused him to have loose lips, especially with the added intoxication from a few drinks...

Kaveh's ass was red and sore after a while of pounding him into oblivion. Your dick was reaching all new places inside of him as you slid in and out vigorously, using every bit of leverage at your disposal to fuck into him faster and rougher, even if it meant that you'd have to carry him home afterwards. Whatever it took for your own tipsy mind to find peace with this punishment

Several instances of footsteps were heard during all of this. Probably people that picked up Kaveh's loud wails and moans, screaming “Cum-cumming—!! ” multiple times as you jerked him off while destroying his hole. His poor, sensitive shoulder was littered with angry bite marks from your own orgasms across the night. All of this would serve as a reminder the next morning; a reminder to work on biting his tongue whenever he drank

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaveh #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #sub kaveh #male reader #dom reader #top reader #scenario #requested

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clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 14

WC: 2416, Masterpost CW: Panic attack

Endless, convoluted Uno games aside (really, who added tarot cards to Uno?), getting to know Wally’s friends was good. Danny liked them and hanging out with them was easier than he thought it would be, but he felt a little bad every time. Whenever he was there they had to keep masks on and that had to suck. They started dressing down, like Wally did, but it was always masks on for the heroes that wore them. They insisted it wasn’t an issue, but Danny made sure to sometimes have obligations that came up at the same time. He wanted to give them the chance to hang out together as themselves, without the hero suits.

Danny knew how important that was.

After several months and a bit of stumbling, it all found a rhythm. Danny had date nights and nights with the Titans. He also had nights out with coworkers or at the game store. That wasn’t to say it was all easy. Setting up the Justice League Response Team was hard, sometimes impossible seeming, work. There were arguments and issues and more red tape than Danny thought possible. His real job was also exhausting at times. Being a field medic meant dealing with injured and dead which never got easier, though he was grateful to have Wally to go to on the worst days. And then, of course, there was the lightning incident.

It really wasn’t his best moment, in his opinion.

Wally was so excited.

“Come on, come on!” he said as he dragged Danny by the hand. He had been lying in ambush to snag Danny right outside of the door of meeting room B3, otherwise known as the Response Team Lair. (They had been encouraged, repeatedly, to stop calling it a lair. Apparently that a bit too villainous for the comfort of some heroes.)

“What’s the hurry?” Danny asked, purposefully dragging his feet a little just to watch Wally bounce up and down impatiently.

“I’ve been working on a new power! I’ve really gotten it down and I want to show you. So come,” Wally pulled at Danny’s arm, “on already!”

Danny laughed and stopped fighting Wally, who almost stumbled with their sudden movement forward.

“Are we going to a training room then?” Danny asked. While over the months, the main response team planners had gained a lot of freedom throughout the Watchtower, there were still a number of areas they either weren’t allowed or weren’t supposed to go without supervision and the training rooms was one of those. Danny had been a few times with the Titans, but usually it was just to grab someone for a game or a night at Wally’s place.

“Yep! No one is stupid enough to risk the Big Bat’s wrath practicing powers like that outside the training room and this is a new power. I’m going to keep you in the observation room and everything just to be safe.”

“My hero,” Danny said with feeling.

“Always,” Wally replied with a grin. “And speaking of heroes, N is going to be there running the sim for me. Are you up to a meal after? Just something casual at my place with the usual peep?”

Danny thought about that honesty. He knew that Wally was asking because he actually wanted to know if Danny could handle being that social tonight. It was still hard sometimes. “Yeah, it would be good to see them. It’s been a few weeks with how busy things have been.”

“More like several.”

“Several?” Danny asked. He felt chastised even though he knew that’s not what Wally was trying to do. “Well, then definitely yes. I hadn’t realized it had been so long.”

“It’s okay, they all understand. You’re really in the thick of it trying to get the last things done for the response team. We all get being busy.”

“Yeah,” Danny said and let out a huff of air. “I guess you would. But a nice night with friends sounds good. Just please tell me there have been no more rules added to Uno.”

“I can make no such promises,” Wally said with a grin as they stepped through a door. “Nightwing! I have your observer for you.”

“No, not the Danny Fenton? I must be seeing things! Flash, take me to medical, have me tested,” Nightwing said, swooning into Wally’s arms.

“Yeah yeah, I get it, it’s been a little long since we saw each other,” Danny groused, but he couldn’t help the smile at the dramatics.

“It has,” Nightwing said from where he was still draped in Wally’s arms. That really couldn’t be comfortable, but Nightwing looked just as at ease as if he was standing normally. “But are we on for dinner tonight?”

“We are.”

“Yes!” Nightwing said, springing up. “Okay speedy, let’s get this show on the road! I’ll message the others while you warm up. Just signal to me when you’re ready.”

“Sure!” Wally chirped. He pecked Danny on the cheek before he sped off.

In a, well, flash, Wally was on the other side of the thick, blast proof window and stretching.

Danny shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t ignored him too badly, right? I’ve just been so caught up in finalizing everything. Not that that’s an excuse. I can, like, set alarms for myself. My days have been all thrown off not going to my actual job this last bit…”

“Hey, Danny, no,” Nightwing said. “Would he like to have seen you a little more? Probably, but it’s not like he hasn’t and you two text plenty. He gets that you’re busy, we all do. He’s been good, really.”

“Okay, good,” Danny said, making sure to smile for Nightwing. “I just… don’t want to do wrong by him, you know?”

“Why do you think we all like you so much?” Nightwing teased and bumped their shoulders together. “You’ve been good for him.”

“He’s been better for me, believe me.”

“Luckily not a competition,” Nightwing said. “You really good for a dinner with the group tonight? If you need some time alone with Flash, I can’t say the others are busy and make up an emergency.”

Danny shook his head. “No, dinner with everyone, well, everyone who can make it really does sound nice. They’re making us take the weekend off anyways, so I can just stay over and spend tomorrow with him too..”

“He’d like that I’m sure,” Nightwing agreed. He pulled out his phone typed for a bit until Wally’s voice came through the intercom.

“All good here!”

“You still want the Sigma B pattern?”

“Yeah! That let’s me build up best.”

Nightwing nodded and pulled some things up on the computer before counting down for the training to start. It was fun to be able to sit back and actually watch Wally in action for once instead of having to work. The other really was something.

“The regular training bots have to be taken out in certain ways. Flash is going for pressing one of the buttons,” Nightwing explained. “Training for precise hits helps us heroes who use hand to hand not use too much force on regular people.”

“And keeps the repair budget down?”

Nightwing laughed. “That too. Okay, so he should be getting close now, watch the sphere on the wall there.”

“Close to wha—” Danny swallowed the last part of his question as his mind blanked.

His head banged against something metal and cool. A locker. He was in the locker room. When had he gotten into the locker room?

Someone reached for him and Danny jerked back again, pressing into the little gap between the metal locker and the wall that he had squeezed into. Wally, Wally was paused, hand outstretched. Wally was, Wally had— Danny squeezed his tightly closed so not to see the look of hurt on Wally’s face. It was just that… he swore he could feel still feel the electricity buzzing along Wally’s fingertips.

Wally had shot lightning out of his hands.

“Just… I don’t… don’t touch me right now, please?” Danny whispered.

“Okay, I yeah, okay babe,” Wally said. He sounded heartbroken.

There was some shuffling, footsteps heading away, and the whoosh of the door.

Danny bit his lip to choke back the noise wanting to pull its way out of his throat, but that only served to make his breath catch and stutter in his chest.

“Hey, Danny,” a new voice said later; an hour, a minute? Danny didn’t know. It took Danny another moment to place it as Nightwing. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try to touch you. I’m just worried about your breathing there. If I count, can you follow along with me?”

Danny didn’t have it in him to nod, but did what he could to follow along. The logical, trained part of his mind knew that even if he didn’t feel like he could breathe, he had to try for even breaths. It would get easier, nothing was actually wrong with his lungs.

“There you go. Do you think you can open your eyes now?”

Spots bloomed across his vision from how tightly he had been squeezing his eyes shut. Danny blinked them away.

“You’re doing so good. Can you talk?”

“Sorry,” Danny rasped.

“Hey, no apologizing. I want you to just keep breathing. I know you’re with me now.”

Danny managed a nod, let his eyes close again as he focused on breathing. When he was feeling a bit more stable, he moved out of where he had tucked himself away.

Nightwing smiled at him. “How about we get you out of here?”

Danny gave a hysterical little laugh. “What, no breakdowns in the Justice League locker room?”

“Oh, no, we’ve all had breakdowns in the locker rooms,” Nightwing said. He got an arm behind Danny and pulled him up. “But that’s how I know it’s not that comfortable. Are you up to Zetaing?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to think,” Danny said as he leaned, helplessly and heavily, into Nigthwing’s support. “Fuck I hate panic attacks.”

Nightwing easily took the weight and started them moving. “The adrenaline crash after them is really something, huh?”

“Yeah, hate it,” Danny agreed. He was aware of them moving through the halls of the Watchtower, but everything was still a bit of a blur.

They stopped near the Zeta tubes where Nightwing grabbed a little bundle. Danny frowned at the earplugs he was handed.

“Your senses are going to be off and the noise of the city might trigger you again. Put these on,” Nightwing said, settling sunglasses on Danny’s nose, “and the earplugs in.”

Danny gave a little nod and did as he was told. Then he obediently tucked into the hoodie he’d been handed. He tucked his nose into it. It smelled like Wally. Nightwing tugged the hood up and moved them to the portal. It wasn’t until they were piling into a taxi that Danny realized that Nightwing put clothing over his suit too. Danny glanced away from Nightwing’s face, now clad only in dark sunglasses.

“Wally’s place?” Danny asked, finally realizing where they were when Nightwing opened the door to the apartment.

He shrugged. “I don’t know where you live and I figured you’d be comfortable here. At least I assume the freak out wasn’t about about Wally as a whole person?”

“A— gods no,” Danny said. He set the sunglasses on Wally’s little side table inside the door. The earplugs got stuffed in a pocket before he rubbed at his face as he made his way to the couch. He felt more terrible every passing moment. “How upset is Wally?”

“He’s not upset at you.”

“Yeah, but…”

The couch dipped on the other side. “Pretty upset. He hates that he hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me. I just,” Danny dropped his hands with a sigh and was left blinking at an unmasked Nightwing.

“Hi, Dick Grayson.”

“Oh great, now I know more heroes’ secret IDs. Is Batman going to come and boomerang me for this?”

“Baterang.”

“Baterang, really?”

“I was nine,” Dick said with a little shrug.

Danny snorted. “Don’t pretend you still don’t think it’s a great name, Dick.”

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or calling me my name.”

“Can’t it be both?”

Dick chuckled and finally sunk back into the couch. “Good to see this hasn’t slowed down your sass any.”

“I’m told it’s one of my best features,” Danny said with a laugh. The sound was still slightly unhinged sounding, he knew, but he was settling down at least. “Thanks for, you know.”

“It’s no biggie, really. We’ve all had them. Is having Wally close going to set you off again or…?”

“No, I don’t think so? I should be good?” He hoped he would be at least.

Nightwing, Dick, eyed him for a moment before texting something on his phone. A second later Wally was standing in front of the couch.

“You’re not supposed to use your powers out of uniform,” Danny reprimanded on instinct.

“Yeah, fuck that. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about the lightning freaking you out because of your accident. That’s what it was, right? Babe—” Wally reached out for him and then pulled himself back.

Danny smiled, sadly, and held open his arms. Wally basically tackled him in a hug.

“I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Danny said, tucking himself against Wally. “I mentioned what the accident was, what, once? Months and months ago? Of course you didn’t think about it.”

“I should have.”

“You can’t remember everything, Wally.”

“I can if it’s about you.”

A flash of a camera went off. Dick lowered his phone unrepentantly. “You two are such saps. Should I call off the others, order you some food, and get out of your hair?”

Danny knew they would, they would all change their plans if they thought that’s what he needed right then. But… “No. No, I think… I think people would be good right now. Better than quiet and getting in my own head, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Dick said with far too much familiarity.

Danny felt his phone buzzing with the group chat messages Dick was sending. A little smile tugged at his lips, despite everything. He tucked his face into the crook of Wally’s neck.

“You going to be okay?” Wally asked, voice barely a whisper.

“Of course I will. I have you, hero.”

---

AN: He has Wally, everything will be okay, right? 🥺

I know I know, every identity reveal comes after a panic attack. That's just Danny's sort of luck in this fic! But hey, he's got some good friends out of it!

Hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #abson #quick death #danny fenton/wally west

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apuckishwit · 1 year

Text

With a Capital P

Saw this post about Stobin having no boundaries, by @grimmfitzz and oops, my hand slipped.

By all rights, there should be some awkwardness. A little lingering strangeness, an adjustment period, if you will. After all, only a few days ago, he fully thought he had feelings for Robin. Well, obviously he does have feelings for her...but he'd thought they were entirely different than the ones he has.

He's maybe a little more concussed than he'd convinced the paramedics he was. To be fair, they had a lot going on.

The point is, he feels like there should be more weirdness. A time period in which he awkwardly shuffles Robin from a box marked 'possible girlfriend?' to the one marked just 'friend'--the one Tommy and Carol used to occupy before things went so sideways (though he's still too afraid to really examine the spaces those two left, too afraid it'll just confirm that he wasted so much time with people who were never his friends at all). Maybe even slot her into the box he's slowly constructing for the kids...something not quite labeled 'friend' and not quite labeled 'family' and quickly coming to take up the biggest chunk of his battered, lonely heart (oh, wow, yeah...definitely more concussed than he let on).

Turns out, though, that being drugged and tortured together, and then launching an assault on a gigantic flesh beast from another dimension with nothing but fireworks and nerve lets you skip over a lot of the beginning phases of a relationship (romantic or otherwise). Also turns out there's a secret, fourth box he didn't even know about. One that's just marked 'Robin' that he has apparently been just waiting for her to come along and fill.

Robin ends up spending most of the rest of the summer at Steve's house, more often than not. He doesn't know what she tells her parents. Doesn't particularly care. He's always had a weird relationship with parental care and authority, so he's not sure he's really in a position to have an opinion about if Robin is lying to her parents about where she is, or if they don't care that she's hanging out at his place so much.

They spend days abusing the central air, or watching movies they swipe from Family Video, or eating snacks out by the pool (he tells her she's welcome to swim, she notes that he never gets in the water himself and doesn't ask questions...but also doesn't move from his side). At first, he makes up a guest room for her when she spends the night, but after the fourth or fifth time one (or both) of them wake up screaming (goddamn, goddamn, goddamn it, he'd just gotten a handle on the nightmares about impossible creatures bursting from the wall, now he gets new material to deal with?) Robin just groans and collapses onto Steve's bed, burrowing under his blankets with him.

"Your room is hideous," she grumbles, grabbing one of his hands and bringing their joined fingers to rest in the small space between their bodies.

"I know," he shrugs. He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back. He listens to her breaths in the dark, feels the warmth radiating off of her. It's comforting. Grounding. He's not alone. Whatever terrors the night brings for them, they'll face it together.

He wakes up hours later, sunlight streaming into his room and the beautiful girl he'd thought he was falling for snuggled right up against his side, the two of them having moved in the night. It should be the stuff of adolescent fantasies but all he feels is a distant sort of confusion that they actually slept so long. Robin's face is smashed into his shoulder and he realizes he's been drooling into her hair, and the first thing she does when she wakes up is shriek about it.

"Ewww, gross! Seriously?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Spit, Steve! My hair is covered in your spit!"

"Well I'm pretty sure this giant booger on my shirt isn't mine, Buckley!"

"Are you accusing me of--oh, wow that is big." Robin starts rubbing at her nose as she stalks into the bathroom and the shower starts running a moment later. He opens the door long enough to toss a clean towel onto the sink and then wanders down to the kitchen to start coffee.

She makes fun of his bedhead when she comes down the stairs, he goggles at the amount of milk and sugar she puts in her coffee. And he never makes up the guest room for her again.

"I am telling you, Johnson is trying to kill us with his exams! It's barely October and we've already had three!" Robin stabs angrily at the chicken cutlets in the pan with her fork, holding one up so Steve can see how brown it is on one side. At his nod, she starts flipping them over. She ducks her head without looking when he reaches over her to snag the basil out of the spice cabinet, still stirring the tomato sauce with his free hand.

"Yeah, Johnson's a dick. Glad I'm done with his class for good." He dips the spoon out of the sauce and blows on it for a moment before tasting, then holds the spoon out for Robin to lick the rest of it off.

"Mmm, more red pepper. And I know! You're so lucky. How did you even pass? Cheryl Mackey was crying in the band room after she got her test back, and she's like, straight a student all the way." Robin finishes flipping the chicken and goes back to chopping carrots for their salad.

"Oh, Robert O'Connell--the guy that works down at the Snack n' Go?--he saved all his tests from when he had Johnson a few years ago. Johnson never writes new ones. You give Robert 20 bucks, you can get any of the answer keys."

Robin sets the knife down and reaches into Steve's back pocket, pulling his wallet out. "Couldn't have told me this earlier?" she grouses, yanking two tens out and shoving the wallet back in his pocket.

"Hey, that's my gas money for the week!" He grabs the pot with the noodles off the stove and takes it to the colander waiting in the sink, sticking his ass out expectantly.

"You look like a hooker trying to pick up johns."

"Well give me at least half my gas money back so I don't have to sell my body to drive you and Henderson to school this week."

"Ugh, fine." She grabs his wallet again and stuffs one of the tens back into it. Then winds up one of his dish towels and smacks his rear end hard enough that he jumps about a foot in the air.

He dumps the drained noodles back into the pot and turns around to bring it back to the stove only to find that Robin is right behind him with the pot of sauce, apparently having been bringing it over to the sink. They collide, hard, and Robin screams bloody murder as hot spaghetti sauce gets dumped all down her front.

"Hot, hot, hot, fuck, hot!"

"Shit, hold on!" He all but tosses the pot of noodles back into the sink and snatches the sauce pot out of her hands. As soon as he does she's whipping off her shirt and grabbing the dish towel she hit him with, wiping off the smears of sauce that got onto her arms. "Did it burn you?" he asks, searching her torso for blisters, even though he knows at the back of his mind that the sauce was only on a simmer.

"No...no, I think I'm good. Damn, I liked that shirt, though." She straightens, glaring down at the sauce pot he slammed onto the counter.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He holds his tongue for approximately zero point three seconds.

"Okay, then can we talk about this whole situation, cause I feel like I just got a major piece of the puzzle of why you don't have a girlfriend, yet. What the hell are you wearing?"

Robin's bra is so faded it's unclear what color it was originally, two large tears right above the elastic band.

Robin looks almost comically offended. "Excuse me? I'm sorry, are you commenting on my very comfortable and perfectly functional underwear?"

"Functional, yeah, if the function is 'never get laid ever'."

Robin crosses over to the doorway that leads to the laundry room. "We can't all exclusively wear Calvin Klein, Harrington!"

"How do you know what underwear I wear?"

"Am I wrong? Also, Jesus Christ do you own any normal shirts?"

"What's wrong with my shirts now? Hey, I'm not taking fashion advice from a girl in a, a grandma bra!"

"Hey!" She steps back out of the laundry room, wearing one of his old basketball team shirts.

They keep bickering back and forth as Steve tries to salvage dinner, eventually ending up just sitting on his kitchen counter dipping pieces of breaded chicken into the remains of the pasta sauce in the pot, having decided they really didn't want to eat spaghetti that had to be fished out of the sink.

"I'm not buying a bunch of frilly, sparkly lace just to wear under my clothes," Robin informs him. "That shit itches."

"Not saying you have to, but at least get something that doesn't look like it came out of the bottom of my gym bag."

"Eww, don't talk about your gym bag while I'm eating!"

It is a slow day in Family Video, and Robin has been casting him strangely intense looks since she came on shift. He restocks the shelves, picks through the candy to take home the almost expired shit to give to the kids, and is halfway through the rewinding before it finally gets to him.

"What?!" he demands. Robin blinks at him, immediately shrugging. A little too fast, actually.

"What, what?" she asks. He narrows his eyes at her and she ducks her head, pretending to find her biology textbook extremely interesting. He knows she's pretending because she hates biology. They're making her dissect a frog this quarter. After a few seconds, she slams the book shut and straightens up, determined look settling on her face.

Steve has just enough time to get a little nervous before she says, "How do you do the tongue thing?"

He blinks at her. "Uh...can you be more specific?"

She rolls her eyes. "You know...the thing! The thing with your tongue."

"I promise you, I do not know. What're you talking about?"

She looks around the store, as if some customers that they somehow haven't noticed in the last three hours might suddenly appear. Then she lowers her voice. "Like, sex things. With your tongue." She huffs a frustrated sigh. "They had to combine gym periods today 'cause Mrs. Hornby had to sub for Janson's history class, and Maryanne Greene was talking about how her boyfriend wouldn't go down on her and then Sue Rennet--you remember Sue? Apparently you dated her for, like, two weeks at the end of her Sophomore year--started talking about you and how you used to do that to her and it's the best sex she's ever had."

And oh...okay, he remembers Sue. Nice girl, a little ditzy, but she hadn't wanted to get more serious, and then Nancy had caught his eye. He can't help but puff up a little. Sure, Hawkins isn't exactly a big city overrun with choices, and judging by the talk he remembers from his own locker room days, he's a little bit of an outlier as far as being concerned with making sure his partners are having as good a time as he is...but to be called the best someone has ever had is nice.

"Don't let it go to your head," Robin says, because she can read his mind quite a lot of the time. "Just...tongue thing. You know, in case I ever do get a shot with, literally anyone."

He softens at that, reaches across the counter to ruffle her hair because it annoys her as much as it annoys him when someone does that. "You will," he says softly, and thinks that he would give almost anything, would probably happily trade any shot at happiness for himself if he could make sure Robin had someone to love her the way she deserves to be loved. He grabs one of her school notebooks and tears a sheet out, grabbing a pen out of the cup beside the computer.

"Okay, so, first things first, you can't just dive right in--gotta get the motor warmed up a little first--"

"Please don't talk in car analogies the whole time," Robin says, leaning in as he draws a crude (heh, see what he did there?) sketch of what he's going to be talking about.

"Noted. So what you're gonna do is start with a little massage around this area," he points with the end of the pen, "really take your time, get things nice and slick..."

He talks, Robin listening intently and occasionally asking questions.

"No you don't--flutter your tongue, flutter it. Here, like this..."

"Okay, vibration is good, but you're not, like, trying to blow a raspberry on her clit--"

"I said flutter!"

And that is how Lucas and Dustin find them about forty minutes later: Steve with his mouth held open wide, demonstrating what he means by fluttering his tongue while Robin stares at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, pen in hand as she takes furious notes.

In retrospect, he supposes he should be grateful that Lucas didn't immediately join Dustin on the 'Steve and Robin are totally dating' train.

"Shit! Steve! Wake up, it's Wednesday!"

Steve's eyes shoot open and he's vertical before he's fully awake, reaching for the nailbat propped up by his bedside table, but it's not there. It's...his bedside table isn't there either.

What the fuck, where's his bed?

"Steve!" Robin shouts, and he blinks rapidly, his surroundings resolving themselves into his...living room?

"What...Rob, what the hell? You're on winter break! You don't have school today?"

Ugh, why does his mouth taste like something died? He looks around the room, at the piles of dusty boxes that look like they came from...

Oh.

Oh yeah.

He and Robin had spent yesterday dragging the Harrington family Christmas decorations down from the attic because Robin said his house looked like a sad capitalism museum and she refused to spend the holidays in a place that didn't have a single Christmas light up. And then they'd found Steve's grandmother's recipe for homemade eggnog. And he'd maybe experimented a little bit with the liquor ratios...they must have fallen asleep on the couch.

"We don't have school but we both promised Keith we'd open all this week!" Robin shouts.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

They're still dressed in their clothes from yesterday. And they smell like a goddamn distillery. Without thinking about it, he grabs her hand and starts hauling her upstairs. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Fuck, shit, fuck!" she agrees as they rocket into the bathroom. Steve starts the water while Robin yanks clean towels out of the linen closet. "Do you have pants I can wear?" she asks, tossing the towels onto the sink and stripping out of her shirt.

"Yeah, I've got those jeans from, like, three years ago. Those fit you pretty well, right?" He tosses his own jeans and boxers towards the laundry hamper, followed by his shirt, and jumps into the shower, adjusting the temperature hotter than he likes it, because Robin's a weirdo who likes to boil herself in the mornings.

"Good enough!" Robin leaps in after him and they squeeze under the spray just long enough to get hair and body wet before separating somewhat so Robin can start scrubbing herself and he can get started on his hair. "Why didn't you set an alarm?"

"Me? Why didn't you set an alarm? You're the one who wanted to take the shifts!"

"Like you're gonna turn down holiday pay."

"It's Keith! Holiday pay probably means a buy one get one coupon to Pizza World up the highway!" He sticks his head under the water again to rinse his hair out and they switch places.

"Are you saying you wouldn't take a buy one get one coupon to Pizza World?"

"I mean...no?"

They switch places again so that Steve can rinse the soap off his body and then it's a race to get dried off, teeth brushed, dressed, and out to the car so they can get to the store in time. It's only as they are piling out of the BMW in front of Family Video that it seems to occur to them both at the same time what they just did. They both pause, mid-step and turn to each other wide-eyed.

"Huh," Steve says quietly.

"Yeah," Robin answers.

Then they shrug and continue towards the store entrance, making it in with exactly three and a half minutes to spare.

"Steve I really think if you're worried about this, you should be talking to a doctor, not me," Robin says, peering at a medical journal she checked out from the library spread out over her lap. "Has it changed color or shape recently?"

"I don't know, maybe? I've got so many moles, it's hard to keep track."

"Any pain or tenderness?" She reaches out and taps his hip so that he turns a little more towards the light cast by her desk lamp.

"No, definitely not. I was just having, you know, private time in the shower and it looked weird to me when I looked down."

Robin hums thoughtfully and pokes at the weird-looking mole on Steve's groin. "I mean, it doesn't look like any of these pictures of bad moles, but if you think it looks different to how it used to, you should probably get it check out regardless."

"Damn it, I was afraid you'd say that," he sighs. She shuts the medical journal and props her chin on one hand as he pulls his pants back up.

"Should I call and make the appointment?"

He huffs and flops back down onto her bed. "Yes please," he grumbles. He never remembers to write down all the appointment details.

"You want me to book something over spring break so I can go with you?"

"Nah, just whatever's available soonest. I'd rather not sit around and stress about it."

It turns out to be nothing to worry about. But three weeks later, Dustin and Max come bursting into Family Video while he and Robin are watching a new report about a brutal murder, and Steve is wishing all he had to stress about was a maybe-weird mole on his dick.

It's not like no one was aware that Steve and Robin were...perhaps unusually close friends. It was just never much of an issue (except to Dustin, who was obsessed with the idea of the two of them getting together) before the events of the spring of '86 and after...

Well.

Who cared how weirdly codependent Steve and Robin were when Max and Eddie had nearly died and the Upside Down was bursting up into the real Hawkins? Honestly, if that was the weirdest thing about them after all they've been through, he'd count that pretty lucky.

After everything, though--after they put Vecna/Henry Creel/One/Whatever in the fucking ground, after they do what Steve was beginning to think was impossible and seal the Upside Down away from them forever, after Max is as recovered as she's ever going to be (she's probably never going to be able to get a driver's license even with glasses, and her doctors tell them the leg braces and crutches might have to be permanent, but she's alive...she's alive, she's alive, she's alive), after Robin finally feels safe enough to come out to the group at large, after Steve spends an entire week holed up in his room screaming into his pillow while Robin patted his back consolingly before marching down to Eddie's new (government-funded) trailer and announcing that it turns out he likes both and would Eddie please go on a date with him...

He thinks maybe Eddie didn't quite understand what he was getting into when he agreed almost before Steve was done asking him out.

"Uh...hey guys," Eddie says slowly, taking in the picture he and Robin present in Steve's kitchen. There's a bag of cucumbers, a few eggplants, and several bananas spread out on the island in front of them. Robin has a tape measure and a homemade pamphlet acquired from a very exclusive shop they traveled to Indianapolis to visit last weekend. Steve is holding up two of the cucumbers for comparison. "What's, uh, what's going on here?"

Steve and Robin exchange a look. Then Steve jumps up and snatches the tape measure out of her hands. "Perfect! Here, Eds, lemme measure you." He reaches for Eddie's belt, only to freeze with a look of annoyance when his boyfriend jumps back with a yelp.

"Whoa! Whoa, hey, baby, I have no idea what you're talking about and also Robbie's right there!"

"What? Oh it's fine, Rob and I have seen each other naked plenty of times."

"Ask me about the time we accidentally showered together," Robin pipes up with a grin.

"Wait, no...wait, what? How do you accidentally shower together?" Eddie asks incredulously. Then he shakes his head. "Wait, no! No, not important. Robin has never seen me naked, and I am not whipping my dick out in front of your best friend so you can measure it! And why do you want to measure it?"

"Well I was trying to just guesstimate how big you are," Steve says, gesturing to the array of produce on the island, "but it'll be easier if I can just get the numbers from the source."

"Why do you need exact measurements of my dick?!" Eddie's eyes have gone wide as dinner plates, his voice reaching an octave usually reserved for his female NPC's in his nerd game. Steve huffs.

"Babe, you said you want to fuck me, but like, all these guides say we should work up to it." He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder at the pamphlet that Robin is now helpfully holding up. "So I'm gonna figure out exactly how big you are, and then Rob and I are gonna go up to this shop we found in Indy and get some of these toys. It's supposed to help me get used to things being, you know, up there."

Robin nods seriously.

Eddie looks at him. Looks at Robin. Looks back at him.

Steve has never seen someone look touched and horrified at the same time. Eddie rakes a hand back through his hair and sighs.

"What...what measurements do you need, exactly?"

#stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates stobin #eddie munson #steddie #at the end though this is definitely focused on Steve and Robin's friendship #background steddie #my writing

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katelynsimpsince2016 · 5 months

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after sleeping on the latest anniversary special i think i’m at peace with the whole bi-generation thing because it does something i don’t think it would’ve been able to do if it was executed in any other way. it allows the show to move the fuck on.

nuwho began with this mysterious sense that something bad happened. that this man, this alien, is filled with guilt and pain from something terrible. that theme of a horrible anguish being thinly veiled under a witty, dorky shield has been consistent throughout every incarnation of the doctor since. it’s a brilliant piece of characterisation but the doctor always being weighed down by this insurmountable grief i think was always going to hold the show back eventually. tragedy is inherent to doctor who but when does it become hard to believe that the main character is somehow able to continue on after everything they’ve gone through. what effect would this have on the audience, especially long-term fans? letting go of past companions and doctors is something that doctor who fans are notoriously bad at and i just wonder if it would become too much for the show to handle at one point. but now it won’t anymore.

bi-generation allows the doctor to heal from everything they’ve gone through whilst still being able to barrel into the next adventure. there’s a million theories on where 14 will end up but i think what matters the most is that the doctor is finally happy. not in a temporary, tenuous state of thrill that will only last until the start of the next episode or when the next threat appears around the corner but truly happy. unlike in previous versions of this story where the doctor gets an impossible happy ending which we never get to see onscreen (e.g. tentoo settling down with rose) we are actually going to witness 15 be joyful and alive, no longer held down by what’s come before. a fresh start almost. not to say that the time war or the flux were so horrific that the doctor never could’ve gotten over them but i don’t think the doctor healing would’ve been believable without him literally splitting in two, allowing him time to breathe and slow down as 14 whilst untethering him from the past and allowing him to fully spread his wings as 15. it’s not a perfect conclusion to this era (and discussions on whether bi-generation undermined ncuti’s entrance and role as THE doctor are completely valid) but i’m ultimately glad it happened

#spreading positivity in the doctor who fandom GASP what a concept!#hope i don’t swing into hating this plot point immediately after posting this but this is where i am rn #hope some of this made sense lol #im just so excited for ncuti!!#doctor who #dw #doctor who specials #doctor who 60th anniversary #the giggle #14th doctor #15th doctor #david tennant #ncuti gatwa #bi generation #my bi-generation thoughts #bi-generation #bi regeneration #bigeneration

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roseghoul26 · 2 months

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Part 2

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author's Note: this was meant to be a short one shot lmao i got so carried away with this

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

For what felt like the millionth time over the past few days, Arthur glanced beside him, expecting to see you riding beside him, the sunlight illuminating your face in a way that took his breath away. And, for the millionth time, it was still only Charles, who had joined him on his search for you over the past days.

After you failed to show at the designated meeting spot after the negotiations, he had to practically be dragged to camp by the other men. “She’ll be fine,” Dutch had said. “You know how she gets sometimes. She’s probably out helping some stranger on the side of the road. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he still allowed himself to be led back, keeping an eye out for you or your horse. After waiting in camp for an hour or two, he decided enough was enough, speeding out before anyone could stop him. He knew you could handle yourself, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. You were never gone for this long without letting him or someone else in camp know.

It only took a few minutes of fast riding before he returned to the meeting spot, climbing the hill to where you had perched. With a keen eye, he scanned over the area, nothing standing out to him except a small splatter of mysterious liquid a few feet away, barely visible in the dirt.

Stepping closer, his suspicion was correct, causing bile to creep up his throat.

It was blood. More specifically, your blood, something he never wanted to see.

Crouching down, he took in the surrounding area. A path cut through the dusty ground, like something was dragged through it, before stopping at a set of hoofprints, receding down the hill with another set in tow, like the other horse was being led.

All Arthur could hear was his heartbeat anxiously pounding as he remounted, taking off down the hill, following the barely visible tracks as best he could. He managed to follow about a mile, nearly reaching Valentine, before other hoofprints intertwined with the track he was following, making it impossible to continue following.

“Shit,” Arthur cursed, scrubbing his face with his hand as he figured out what to do. If you had been kidnapped, which was apparent, then someone had to have seen something in town. You’d have been slung over the rump of the horse, which he figured someone might remember if they saw.

It was about two hours later when he left town, having gotten a lead from some of the residents about someone carrying someone through town, heading southwest toward Strawberry. The sun had long since set, and as he rode back to Clemens Point, he was lost in his thoughts.

He had to finally admit to himself that the things he felt for you went beyond a normal friendship. Friends don’t wonder what it would be like to hold you in the night. Friends don’t wonder how your lips would feel, how your hands would feel, how your body would feel. Friends sure as hell don’t lie awake at night fantasizing about you, then be too embarrassed to meet your eye in the morning.

Your compassion towards him throughout the years was something he cherished, the way your face lit up when you saw him, or the way you held him when he confided in you about his troubles. Every moment with you filled something in his chest that he didn’t realize was empty.

He hasn’t felt something like this toward anyone since Mary, but this felt different. This felt genuine, natural, like it was always meant to happen, born from years of trust. He had felt it for some time, but fear of ruining something great stopped him from saying anything. If his relationship with you crashed and burned the same way it did with Mary, his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He vowed to himself that he would tell you everything once you were safely back home.

“Who goes there?” He heard Charles shout out, barely registering he was back at camp.

“Just me,” Arthur sighed, slowing down to a trot as Charles came up beside him.

“Find her?”

“She's been taken… O’Driscolls took her through Valentine, heading southwest.”

Having only heard Charles swear only a few times, it took him by surprise when he heard the man mutter a curse under his breath, escorting Arthur as he entered camp, still staying on his horse. A light pat on his leg caught him off guard. “Rest up. We’ll head out at sunrise.”

“I’m just grabbin’ a few thing. She ain’t… I ain’t got time to sleep…” he trailed off, fighting back a conveniently timed yawn. “I can handle this myself.”

“She’s my friend too, you know. Maybe not as close as you two, but I care about her. And don’t think you’d survive ambushing a camp of O’Driscolls by yourself,” Charles shook his head, turning and walking back to his guard post, keeping his eyes on Arthur. “I only got a half hour left on my shift. We’ll rest until sunrise and head out. Neither of us will be able to help her if we’re dead on our feet.”

After failing to move, he watched the hunter turn back around, his face calm despite his words. “Don’t make me pull you off that horse, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, dismounting before walking toward his tent, sitting down on his cot with his head in his hands, hat left on the nightstand next to him. “Hang on, princess,” he muttered, as if it was going to help anything, before trying his hardest to get any semblance of rest.

True to his word, Charles woke him at the crack of the rising sun, and he left a note for the others letting them know where he was going, just in case. That was roughly four days ago, nowhere close to finding you than before.

He just prayed he would get to you in time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s panicked voice jolted you to consciousness, your eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight, bringing your arm up to block against the intrusion, before realization settled in.

Dutch was talking.

You were home.

Instantly you were awake, bolting upright into a sitting position, scaring the hell out of said man, who you saw take a step back, before rushing to your side.

You could barely understand the words coming out of your mouth, your eyes finally clearing as you took in the leader of your group kneeled before you, relief etched across his face. “It’s Colm- Dutch, I-, he–” you were almost hyperventilating as your eyes darted around manically, your body and mind suddenly overwhelmed.

Two hands grabbed your face, focusing your attention on the man in front of you. “Breathe, my dear. Just. Breathe.”

Following his instructions, you took a deep breath in, and out, repeating the action until your heart rate slowed down a tick. Miss Grimshaw, at this time, was by your side now, asking you questions that you were too out of it to hear. “Dutch, it was Colm. I- It was a setup. He took me. But I got away.” You only noticed you were crying when Dutch wiped away the tears with a handkerchief, something almost fatherly in the action. “I got away.” You repeated, more to yourself than anything.

A rare, true smile graced Dutch as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, being mindful of the obvious injury there. “Yeah, that you did. But you’re safe now.”

“He was gonna set the law on us, Dutch.”

“Of course he was.” Sighing, you felt Dutch’s grip on you let up as he stood. “But that’s not a problem for you to worry about right now. All you need to focus on is getting better, okay?”

Nodding, you went to try and stand, almost collapsing until you felt Miss Grimshaw on your right side sling your arm over her shoulders, allowing you to rest your weight on her. She led you to your cot, Dutch following behind with his arms out like you were a child learning to walk for the first time. Exhaustion made its presence known again, and you felt your head grow fuzzy, black spots dancing across your vision.

You were almost fully tucked into your cot before a new thought caused you to sit right back up, earning you a disapproving sigh from Miss Grimshaw. “Where’s Arthur?”

Dutch, who stood at the entrance of your tent, left, and you heard him shout to Javier. “Go track down Arthur. Tell him his girl’s home.”

Glancing over to Miss Grimshaw, you asked again. “Where’s Arthur?”

Cupping your hand in hers, she responded. “Him and Charles are out looking for you. Have been since you’ve been gone.”

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days, dear. You gave us quite a fright.”

“And he’s… they’ve been out looking for me?”

She rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. People really care about you, you know. Arthur especially. But,” she pressed down on your good shoulder, making you lay down flat on the bed, “you need sleep. Javier’ll find him in no time. He’ll be here when you wake.”

Your hand in hers was the last thing you remember before sleep overcame you.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Nothing here,” Charles shouted from a closeby building as Arthur investigated the small hut, long since abandoned, the rotting floorboards barely holding him as he searched.

Opening the final room and meeting only dust bunnies and brown rats, he holstered his gun, his increasing anxiety causing his heart to beat wildly. “Same here,” he shouted back, exiting the building with a huff, sitting down on the dilapidated staircase as Charles approached him.

He was getting desperate at this point. They had searched what felt like every abandoned campsite and building, no sign of you or O’Driscolls anywhere. Not allowing himself to go down a rabbit hole, he pulled out his map, spreading it across his lap so Charles could look as well. With his pencil, he crossed off their current location, another X added to the page.

Weariness was also starting to take a toll on him, not as alert as he was days prior, the same going for Charles, but neither of them would be able to stop until they’d found you. Muttering under his breath, he scanned the map for their next location, reaching for his revolver when he heard the sound of fast hoof beats approaching the two of them.

Glancing up, a familiar black and white horse whizzed past, skidding to a halt as the rider practically jumped off, running up to the startled duo.

Javier stood before them, hair in disarray, panting as heavily as his horse, who gladly took a break from a straight dash from camp. Arthur couldn’t read the man’s expression, and he stood up warily, the map falling somewhere in the dirt. There was only reason why Javier was here, a fact that Arthur and Charles seemed to understand at the same time, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s home.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

A new hand held yours when you woke.

It was significantly larger than Miss Grimshaw’s, strong callouses adorning the fingers, yet despite that roughness it held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

When it felt you begin to stir, it held on a little tighter, a sigh of relief coming from the owner. Groggily, you opened your eyes slightly, almost immediately wanting to close them as the sunlight streaming from the entrance of the tent nearly blinded you, and you tried rolling over, crying out in pain as you rolled on to your left shoulder, having completely forgotten about the wound there.

“Easy there, princess,” Arthur murmured, the low gravel of his voice music to your ears.

Moving slowly, you glanced over to your side, smiling gently at the rugged cowboy who held your hand. “Hello-” a coughing fit wracked your body, throat dry from dehydration. Within seconds Arthur was right at your side, using his free hand to prop you up, rubbing your back as you coughed.

After a few seconds the fit subsided. Groaning, you rubbed at your eyes, your hair falling around your face. Arthur’s hand moved from your back, and you nearly let out a noise of complaint until he presented you with a waterskin, which you gladly took and began to greedily gulp down.

The water, despite being a tad bit warm, felt amazing, some of it spilling from your mouth and onto your lap. As you drank, you heard him call out for Miss Grimshaw, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to startle you. Within seconds the tent flaps swished open, Miss Grimshaw standing with her hands on her hips as she looked you up and down, a small smile on her face. “Well, it’s about time you woke up.”

She pressed her hand against your face, feeling for any sort of fever. “How’re you feeling?”

Bringing down the water skin, which Arthur took away to stop you from making yourself sick from drinking too much. “I feel like I was hit by a train. Everything hurts.”

Removing her hand from your face, she quickly left the tent, returning moments later with a tonic in her hands, opening and offering it to you. “For the pain,” she simply said, gesturing for you to drink it.

It burned as it went down, the bitter concoction instigating another coughing fit, luckily shorter than the other. Arthur took the empty bottle from your hands, tossing it behind him somewhere in the tent as Miss Grimshaw sat in front of you on the cot, beginning to remove the bandage that now covered your left shoulder.

Glancing down, you noticed that someone had cleaned you, the grime from the O’Driscolls basement nowhere to be seen, replaced by a fresh nightgown and clear skin. Well, clear in the sense that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on you. Various cuts, bruises, and burns adorned your body, most of them having already scabbed and on the way to be completely healed. Only a few were bandaged up, the worst being the gunshot wound on your shoulder.

While you had taken in the state of your body, Miss Grimshaw had been able to fully remove the bandage from your shoulder, and you let out a wince as the air hit the wound. The wound, you saw, wasn’t infected, but it was irritated, glaring red as Miss Grimshaw applied a slave to it, tears pricking your eyes at the pain.

You felt Arthur begin to rub your hand soothingly, murmuring small praises as she redressed the injury. “You’re healing well. Won’t be too long until you're back on your feet,” Miss Grimshaw spoke, brushing her hands on her skirt as she stood. “Just make sure you’re getting lots of rest, drinking lots of water, and eating good food. That one right there will make sure you do,” she winked at Arthur, who looked away embarrassed. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. Visitors, or no?” When you shook your head no, she nodded in understanding. Turning to leave, she paused right at the entrance, before glancing back over at you. “It’s good to see you awake, dear.”

Before you could get a chance to respond, she left, leaving you and Arthur alone, still holding each other's hands. You felt your hair, which still hung around your face, begin to move as Arthur tucked it behind your ear, smiling lightly as he finally was able to make eye contact with you. There was obvious relief in his eyes, but something vulnerable there as well. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, and noticing the chair pulled up to the side of your bed, as well as some of his personal belongings sitting beside him, you were able to quickly piece together that Arthur had been at your side the entire time you slept.

An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome pang hit your heart as you took in the man beside you, the man who was unyieldingly devoted to you, and the man you were so helplessly in love with. In any other circumstance, you would have pushed those thoughts away, but now you let them wash over you, sweeping away all the ache in your bones. You felt yourself smiling brightly at the cowboy, the cuts on your face making their presence known as the skin moved, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered right now was Arthur.

Glancing down at your entwined hands, you let out a content sigh, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips, giving them a quick kiss before letting it fall back to your lap. Your heart hammered fast in your chest as you opened your mouth, ready to spill your most closely guarded secret to the man beside you. “I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said at the same time, his louder voice covering yours, the confession stuck between your lips as you sealed them back up, and you furrowed your brows, momentarily forgetting what you were about to do.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur went to stand up, his stoic mask back up, trying to disentangle your hand from his, but you held on as tight as you could, stopping him from pulling away completely. “I’ll… I’ll leave you be now. Said you didn’t want visitors.”

“You know damn well that doesn’t mean you, Arthur Morgan,” you nearly growled, your voice scratchy as you tried to pull him back down to his seat. When he didn’t budge, you sighed, tugging lightly at him. “Please stay,” you whispered, and you could see the war being fought in his head as he stood there, unmoving.

A minute passed before he relented, letting you drag him back down to his seat with what strength you had. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t making eye contact, instead taking in every injury on your body that you had obtained at the hands of the O’Driscolls, squeezing your hand tighter as his gaze settled on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him apologize for the third time, and you just shook your head at him.

“And I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for, mister. You weren’t the one to do this to me, right?”

“God, no,” he replied, visibly disgusted at the notion.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shaking his head, you saw him bring himself closer to you, the chair gliding through the pelt that lined the floor of your tent. “I knew it was a trap. If I hadn’t made you-”

You cut him off by pressing your finger to his lips, silencing him as his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “We all knew it was a trap, Arthur. But the thought of having any sort of peace with the O’Driscolls made us turn a blind eye. And you didn’t make me do anything. I went of my own free will. And besides,” you removed your finger, failing to notice how his eyes had darkened slightly during the whole action. “If it wasn’t me who got taken, then it would’ve been you or the others. It was inevitable.”

“It shouldn’t’ve happened.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But it did. It’s done now. We gotta move on now.”

“Next time I’ll be doing overwatch.”

“Like hell you are,” you scoffed, some of the tension leaving the conversation. “I’m the better shot, anyway.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his chair away from you. You tried to not look disappointed. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” you nodded vehemently, smirking slightly. “Best shot in the camp, hands down.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna go prove that to me then?”

“I ain’t got nothing to prove to you, Arthur, and you know it,” you laughed.

“Nah, you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re incredible.”

The total honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a slight flush creep up your face, no doubt turning your cheeks dark. Glancing away, the two of you fell into an easy silence that only came with him, and he mindlessly stroked your hand.

A few moments had passed before you looked back up at him, a crease in his brow, deep in thought, barely even registering your movement as he hung his head low. Shaking his hand slightly, you were able to get him to look up at you, giving him an easy smile. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Looking like a fish out of water with the way his mouth gaped, he rubbed the back of his neck, no longer looking you in the eye as he fumbled with the words he was trying to say. It was almost silly, seeing the deadly man before you, someone who could send a person running with only a glance, at a loss of words. “Why’re you nervous? It’s just me,” you reassured him.

Or at least you tried to reassure him, your words stressing him more than relaxing him. “How’d you…” be began, trailing off shortly thereafter.

“I’m a mind reader.”

“You ain’t a mind reader. If you was, then I wouldn’t have to sit here, stumbling over my words like an idiot trying to figure out how to tell you…” he trailed off again, sighing anxiously, his face almost beet red.

“You’re not an idiot,” you chided, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, your knees knocking against Arthur’s. You ignored the butterflies erupting in your stomach at the proximity, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face to bring his gaze back to yours. You tried to move your hand away but he caught it, keeping it pressed against his cheek. “And, even if I could read your mind, I’d wanna hear it from your lips anyway.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I’ve been… I’ve been real scared to tell you this, you know. Everytime I try, the words just don’t come out right, and I ain’t too keen on making a fool of myself in front of you. I just… I hope this don’t change things between us… I don’t think I’d be able to live without you by my side. And if you don’t feel the same… which I pray that you do… then we never have to talk about this again. We’ll just move on, like you said.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist, his beard pleasantly tickling the sensitive skin. A little gasp left your lips, the cowboy chuckling in response. But he didn’t continue speaking, his own anxieties halting his words. You knew what he was going to say; it was on the tip of his tongue. He just needed a push.

“Do you love me?” You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.”

“How is that you make me feel so calm yet terrified?” Arthur sighed gently. “When you were taken… it made me realize how big a fool I really am for you. And I almost didn’t get to tell you… I was ready to tear down every O’Driscoll until you were back home. But you went and saved yourself, cause of course you did. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said you was incredible. You’re back home now, so now I get to tell you I love you. I really, really do.”

He let out a shaky exhale, a visible weight being let off his shoulders. “I have for a while now… but I just kept pushing it away and denying it. After what happened the last time I bared my heart out for someone, I was scared of it happenin’ again. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me… but a part of me refused to let me feel this way. I’m… I’m not a good man. I’ve done bad things, I’ve hurt people. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish enough to want you anyway. If you want me too, then I will spend the rest of our time together proving that I am worthy enough to be by your side.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you felt tears beginning to well up after finally hearing the words you’ve been waiting for for some time. “You silly man. I love you, too.” Despite the tears, you were smiling brightly, a similar expression mirrored on Arthur. You felt giddy, laughter bubbling from your lips. “I love you so much, and there is nothing you could do that would change that. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. The man right here is all I need.”

Blue eyes looked down at your lips, the distance between the two of you was so close yet so far, lips merely inches from your own with your foreheads connected. You watched as Arthur wet his lips, looking back up into your eyes with a look of longing.

“May I kiss-'' your lips pressed against his before he could finish the question, silencing him the way you wish you could have earlier. The cowboy let out a surprised grunt, the momentum of your body pressing against his nearly sending him backwards, his hat sitting precariously on his head. It only took him a second to recover from the shock before his lips moved, plush but chapped yet perfect in every sense.

Using the hand still cupped to his face, you moved it behind, scratching your nails lightly up the back of his neck before tangling your fingers in the short hair, tugging slightly. A delicious whine left Arthur, mouth parting slightly against yours as the kiss deepened. You felt his hold on your hand leave, instead grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him so you were practically on his lap.

All you could think about was Arthur. He flooded every sense, every fiber of your being fully enraptured by the man. So enraptured, in fact, that you temporarily forgot the trauma that your body had just been subjected to, so when you tried to use your left arm to situate yourself better, a shock of pain overtook you, forcing you to break away from his lips with a pained groan.

Immediately, whatever love fueled haze had flooded the two of you dissipated, leaving a concerned Arthur holding you as pain tore through your body, before dissolving into an incessant ache. “Shit… sorry,” you were panting, out of breath for two incredibly different reasons.

“Nothing to apologize for. You alright?”

“Got a little eager,” you smiled a tad bit sheepishly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“So we’ve both been fools this entire time?” When you nodded, he laughed, partially in disbelief. “And only a little eager?” he jested, rubbing his scalp tenderly.

“Yeah… sorry.”

“And I said there was nothing to apologize for. Besides,” he brought his lips close to your ear, voice rumbling as he spoke. “I like it when it hurts a bit.” He sat up, pressing a kiss to your temple before doing so.

The implications were not lost on you, yet you still found yourself staring wide-eyed at him. Noticing your hesitation, he backpedaled slightly. “If that’s alright. I don’t wanna force ya… or make you uncomfortable…”

“I’d like that, very much. Just not now, though. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s alright. We don’t gotta to do anything until you’re ready.” With a gentle smile, he gave you a quick kiss, pulling away too quickly for your liking. When you pouted slightly, he chuckled and shook his head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You, princess, need rest.” You sighed, and with Arthur’s help you situated yourself back on the cot, still sitting up as he fixed the pillows behind you.

“Will you lay with me?” You thought he was going to say no, but he instead started toeing off his boots, setting them beside the bed before sitting behind you. A firm arm wrapped around your front, pulling you down to lay atop of him, your head resting comfortably on his chest. He kissed the crown of your head, and you snuggled into the man. The smell of him, a mix of gunpowder, leather, and something woodsy, filled your nose, lulling you into a relaxed state.

“I love you,” you mumbled out, face partially buried into his shirt. Gentle fingers combed through your hair, a pleased sigh leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

“I love you, too. Now, rest. You’ve got a long few weeks ahead of ya.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The first day of your recovery was the worst. Not because of the aches in your body, but the fact that everyone in camp had decided to come see you sometime in the day. You were grateful, yes, but it was exhausting. As nice as it was, a part of you just wished all the attention on you would go away. One more sympathetic look and you were going to throttle someone.

Dutch came in first that morning (with your permission), two cups of coffee in his hands as he sauntered in. He looked a bit caught off guard when he saw Arthur sitting behind you, still partially asleep in your cot as you sat up in the bed. After the initial shock wore off, a large shit-eating grin took over his face.

Setting one of the cups on the nightstand, he roughly patted the cowboy on his shoulder, who practically yelped at the sudden aggressive contact. “Atta boy, Arthur!” his boisterous laugh shook the tent, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the expense of Arthur. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d never grow the balls to tell her.”

In a sudden change, his face took on a serious expression as he leaned down close to Arthur, talking quietly enough for only the other man to hear. Whatever he said must’ve scared Arthur, his face turning a few shades paler. But within moments laughter returned to the black haired man who now had his full attention on you, handing you a cup of coffee which you gratefully took. “It is good to see you up, dear. Nothing can keep you down can it?”

“Not so sure about nothing, but O’Driscolls sure as hell can’t.”

“No ma’am,” he chuckled, pulling up and sitting in the chair that Arthur was in last night. “And trust me when I say they’ll regret ever touching a single hair on you.”

You nodded, lightly sipping the hot beverage in your hands. “Just don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Standing up, he gestured to the drink on the nightstand. “Help yourself to that Arthur. It was mine, but I wasn’t expecting you to have… company this morning. Now, get better quickly. Can’t have my best shot out of commision for too long.” With that, Dutch left your tent, Arthur giving a sigh of relief when he did.

Glancing over at Arthur with an I told you so look, you found him still paler than normal, shifting uncomfortably behind you. Snuggling up into his arms seemed to snap him out of partially, but you still saw his eyes flicking across the room, like he was expecting danger to pop out from anywhere. “What’d Dutch say?” you asked, Arthur’s arms wrapping around you as your face buried into his shoulder.

“I… nothing important, trust me,” he muttered, trying to brush over the question. Not taking that as an answer, you tilted your head to the side so you could look up at him, an unimpressed look on your face. Sighing, you felt his lips press a kiss to your forehead before he responded. “Let’s just say you got some… uh… guardians around camp.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

“Not so sweet when you’re the one getting threatened with gelding tongs,” you heard him mutter, and Arthur’s panicked look made a whole lot more sense now. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from you.

“Did- did Dutch threaten you, Arthur?” you barely managed to get out. His answering sigh was all you needed for confirmation, and you felt another fit of laughter overtake you. Arthur wasn’t long to stay upset, feeling his chest rumble with a light laugh.

“He’s always kept me in line. As best he could, anyway. But that’s enough about me. How’re you feeling, princess?” He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around you gingerly. Pulling you down, you felt him pull you towards him, giving you a kiss atop your head.

“I’m feeling like I’m gonna be sick of that question soon.”

You swore you could hear him roll his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

With an exaggerated huff, you turned so you were facing, his arm and hand now in your lap. You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m okay. Just really sore.”

“And…” Arthur tapped lightly on your forehead. “How ‘bout there?”

“Surprisingly alright. I… I don’t really remember too much, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s good. But, if something changes, or you need… ‘dunno… someone to talk to, let me know. I ain’t the best with words… but I can listen pretty well.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” With a smile, you pressed your lips against his cheek, the slight prickle from his beard tickling you. He didn’t let you move back too far, however. A light hand cupped the back of your head, keeping you steady, but not strong enough to keep you from moving if you wished.

“And you said you was the best shot in camp. You missed.” Arthur had an almost cheeky smile on his face.

Scoffing in fake indignation, you kissed him, a satisfied hum leaving the cowboy as your lips made contact. His one hand still made contact with your head, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Running your own through his soft hair, another satisfied noise left him, and you pulled back with a pleased smile. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Now c’mere…” he said with a playful growl, before peppering kisses across your face, neck, and shoulders, being mindful of your injuries. You found yourself giggling as he continued his attack, turning into a yelp when you felt him nip lightly at your jaw. Lightly swatting at his shoulder, he moved back, still holding you gently. “You make me so happy, don’t you ever think otherwise.” With a final brush of his lips against yours, you watched his eyes flick behind you where the entrance to your tent was. Turning around, you saw Hosea standing there, tonic in one hand, a book in the other.

Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, you gestured for the older man to come in, a soft look on his face as he sat in the chair in front of you. “So that’s why you weren’t at your tent, Arthur,” he commented, and the younger cowboy sheepishly looked away. “You’re looking better. At least, better than you did twelve hours ago. How’re you feeling?”

Fighting the urge to bash your head into the nearest hard surface, you gave him the same response you gave Arthur. With a nod, he handed you the tonic, the greenish bottle filled to the top with liquid. “For the pain. And,” he handed you the book, “For the boredom.”

It was a copy of A Cristmas Carol, a brand new one at that. You knew that Hosea was quite the reader, so it came as no surprise that he knew where the name of your horse came from. “I know it’s nowhere near Christmas time, but I hope it will bring you some comfort.”

“It will. I… Thank you, Hosea.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Is there anything else you need?”

“I think… I think I’d like some food. Let me just…” with your feet planted on the ground, you tried to stand up, the idea of a fresh meal urging you to leave your bed. As soon as you were fully upright, however, the world began to spin. Two arms caught you before you made contact with the floor, Arthur having stood up when you did, and he eased you back down to the bed.

At this point, Hosea was on his feet too, his hands planted on his hips like a parent would when scolding their child. “You’re in no state to be moving. Me ‘n’ Arthur will get your food for you. Just stay here.” Patting your right shoulder affectionately, he beckoned Arthur with a nod, the two of them leaving your tent together after Arthur put his boots back on.

You calling out Arthur’s names stopped the cowboy in his tracks, a concerned look on his face as he turned to face you. “Please take some time for yourself. Change your clothes, take a bath, something like that.”

“You sayin’ I smell?”

“I’m sayin’ you smell like you haven’t been at camp for a few days. Now go.”

“Alright, princess,” Arthur laughed, a grin on his face as he left the tent.

For the first time since you’d been back, you were alone. The tent was eerily silent, the only noise your breathing and the rustling of sheets as you got back into bed, sitting up against the pillows. Grimacing, you downed the entire tonic bottle, the liquid bitter as ever. You set the empty glass on your nightstand, your throat already going numb from the ingredients.

Waiting for Hosea to return with food, you thought over the events of the last couple of days. Most of it was hazy, in your brain. The only things you remembered were flashes of pain and the voices of the O’Driscolls. Everything else was gone, just blank spaces in your memory. Rubbing your face with your hand, you winced slightly as you pressed down a little too hard at what you assumed was a bruise on your cheekbone. You realized you had yet to see your face, unaware of the damage done to it.

Sighing, you barely noticed that Hosea was back in the tent with you, a bowl of hot stew in his hands, the smell causing saliva to begin pooling in your mouth. Handing you the bowl, along with a fresh skin of water, the man returned to the chair next to you.

“Don’t get too lost in those thoughts of yours. It’ll be hard to get you back out.”

“It’s not like there’s many thoughts in there anyway. I hardly remember anything that happened. I can’t tell if that should be concerning or relieving.” You said through spoonfuls of food, the temperature of it burning your mouth.

“Did they do anything… untoward to you?” Hosea asked, hesitating slightly.

You shrugged. “If they did, I don’t remember. But I don’t think so, saying nothing hurts down there.”

The older gunslinger let out a small sigh, his body relaxing some in relief. “Well, we can take some assurance that they aren’t animals.” He fell silent, giving you a few moments to eat. “Don’t be too worried about your memories. It’s common for our minds to shut out events that happened to us. Whether you want them to come back, however, is up to debate. Some events aren’t worth remembering.”

He fell silent again, lost in thought as you took another bite of your food. You were getting full now, your stomach not used to having so much food in it. You sat the bowl, which still had about half its contents left, on your nightstand. At the clattering of the bowl, Hosea seemed to snap out of whatever headspace he was in, giving you a small smile as he took the bowl. “Thank you,” he said while standing up, and you gave him a confused look.

“Thank you for coming back to us. To the gang. Lord knows what would happen to us if we lost you. Don’t know what would happen to Arthur, either.” He laughed humorlessly while shaking his head. “We’re all proud of you. I’m proud of you. You’re tougher than most, that’s for sure.” With a final kind smile, he left, leaving you, and your tears, to your lonesome again. Sipping lightly from the waterskin he left you, a gentle warmth growing in your chest from Hosea’s words.

It seemed like the universe still didn’t want you to be alone, however, because before you could even collect yourself, a small body came barreling into your tent, a larger one following with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry,” Abigail began, trying to usher an eager Jack out of your space. “When he heard you was awake, he wanted to come see you, and I tried-”

“It’s all good, Abigail. I don’t mind the company.” You tried to brush away the remnants of your tears. Abigail didn’t see, or if she did, she didn’t make a comment about it. Either way, you were grateful.

An eager Jack stood beside your bed, a wide grin on his face. Stretching out his arms, he held in his fists a small bouquet of wildflowers, with various flower types that ranged from all sorts of different colors. Pressing a hand over your heart, you gratefully took the bouquet from Jack. “For me? Thank you, Jack. They’re beautiful. You wanna help me put them somewhere safe?”

When the boy nodded, you handed him the waterskin, and he held it like it was the most important thing in his life. Grabbing the empty tonic bottle from your nightstand, you held it in your lap. “Pour a small amount of water in, so I can get the old stuff out first.”

After doing what you asked, you swished the water around the bottle, clearing out any extra tonic residue that might be left over. Pouring it out somewhere behind your bed (avoiding the pelt that acted as your carpet), you gestured for him to refill the bottle again. This time, instead of dumping it back out, you placed the small bouquet in it, the opening of the bottle barely big enough to hold all the flowers. Carefully you put the bottle back on the nightstand, and when it didn’t tip over, you let out a celebratory clap.

“Look how pretty those are, Jack! You picked out the best flowers.”

“I hope they make you feel better, Auntie Morgan. Ma says you got hurt real bad.”

“I bet they will,” you replied, not even registering what he said until a few seconds later. “Auntie Morgan? Where’d that come from?”

Jack shrugged, and you saw Abigail give you yet another apologetic look. “Well, I saw Uncle Arthur leave your tent, and he never did that before. And Ma told me that when someone has a tent with someone, it means they are dating! And when you are dating, you have the same last name! So that means you are now Auntie Morgan!”

“Oh… I mean… well…” You’re sure your face was significantly darker than it was moments ago as you stumbled over your words.

“Jack!” Abigail reprimanded, a horrified look on her face at Jack’s comment. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I just… that’s the only way I knew how to explain it to Jack when he asked.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. We are… I think.”

“You… you are? When you nodded, Abigail gasped excitedly. “Oh, well that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you!” She hugged you gently before taking a step back by her son. “It’s about time…” she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you she was Auntie Morgan, Ma!”

“Not quite yet, Jack. We’re not married. Only married people have each other’s last names,” you tried to explain.

“So are you gonna marry Uncle Arthur then?”

Thank goodness you hadn’t decided to take a drink of your water, or else it would've been spat out at his question. Your face felt flame hot at this point, and you nervously picked at your nails. “We’ve only just started dating, Jack. I… He hasn’t asked me that question yet.”

“Do you want to marry Uncle Arthur?”

“That’s enough!” Abigail practically jumped to cover Jack’s mouth. You laughed at Jack’s lack of filter despite your growing flustered state. With her hands on his shoulders, she led Jack outside, returning by her lonesome a short while later. Sighing, she sat on the side of your bed. “Sorry ‘bout that, again.”

With a wave, you dismissed her concerns. “It made me laugh.” You could tell she was itching to say something, but couldn’t tell if it was rude or not. “Me and Arthur spoke last night. We… confessed some things to each other, and, well, you heard what I said. There’s… something between us.”

“I really am happy for you,” she smiled at you, taking your hand in hers. “You two are good for each other. Being close with someone, in this life, it ain’t easy. But that don’t mean it ain’t worth it. Treasure the moments you have together, and take time for you both. Be there for each other, but don’t be fully dependent on the other. Communicate, even if it’s hard. Lord knows I know that all too well.” An almost regretful look crossed her features, a tiny frown pulling at her lips, as if reminiscing over past mistakes between her and John.

“And, if he breaks your heart, which I pray he never does, just know that there is a camp full of nasty outlaws that would do anything for you. Myself included,” she added, a playful look replacing the old one.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Abigail stood up, brushing out the creases in her skirt. “I’ll try my best to stop Jack from saying too much ‘bout the two of you. But, be ready for anything.” As she exited the tent, you could hear Jack loudly talking to someone about the conversation he just had with you. Groaning, you flopped your head back, praying that someone wasn’t Arthur.

The rest of that first day was filled with rest broken up by people coming to visit you. Charles had come in about twenty minutes after Abigail, and the two of you had chatted for a good while, catching up on his and Arthur’s adventure to find you. He had also gifted you a small whittled version of your horse, the wood stained to match his black and white coat. You had accepted the gift with gratitude, setting it by your flowers after staring at it in your hands for a long while.

Arthur had come back during Charle’s visit, freshly bathed and with new clothes on. His hair was still slightly damp as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, not wanting to barge in on your conversation. Gesturing him further inside, you then patted the bed behind you where he was before, moving further up so there was more space for him.

As he came over, he patted Charles on his shoulder, joining into the conversation with a few additions to the story as he slid into the bed behind you. You didn’t fully lay against him, not wanting to get too affectionate in front of your friend and making him uncomfortable. Charles only stayed a few minutes after that, giving you a light hug before leaving the two of you.

Reclining fully against Arthur’s chest, you let out a pleased sigh as you felt him embrace you. “Y’know, I heard some crazy things from Jack not too long ago.” You felt him laugh as your head rolled back defeatedly, eyes closed.

“He’s definitely Marston’s kid, that’s for sure. Nosy little…” you grumbled, and you felt him laugh again.

“He’s not the only one. Mary-Beth and the girls nearly jumped me after they saw me leave. Barely made it down to the river in one piece.”

“How’d you survive?”

“John got ‘em off my back. Then, once the other’s were out of earshot, began hounding me with his own questions. I swear, the whole camp is a bunch of high society folks who got nothing to do but gossip all day.”

“Can’t fault them. It’s not everyday that the gang has a new couple in it.” You hadn’t meant for the term couple to slip out. You knew there was something between the two of you, but you feared putting a label on it. Slowly opening your eyes, you tried to gauge Arthur’s facial expression, but to no avail. You remembered Abigail’s words about communication, so you took the leap of faith. “We… Are we a couple? Are we… dating?” It felt juvenile to use the word dating, but you knew no other way to ask.

“Yes?” Arthur replied almost immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. You felt a little silly, and you closed your eyes again, avoiding Arthur’s confused glance.

“Unless…” you could hear the panic and disappointment in his voice, and you immediately reopened your eyes, lifting out of his embrace to turn and face him fully.

“No, we are! It’s just, you… we never said that we were, like, official, and I didn’t want to put a label on it and make you uncomfortable and I really want to be yours but I don’t want to push you into somethin’ if you’re not ready for it and… what?” Your rambling was cut short by the fond yet amused look on Arthur’s face.

“I’m more than ready for this. Trust me. I want this. I want you.”

“Okay,” you nodded, kissing him quickly, before laying back down on Arthur, this time facing his chest, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. You felt his hand rub up and down your back, pressing kisses on the top of your head as you settled in. You were starting to feel sleepy, a mix of the food, tonic, and Arthur lulling you back to unconsciousness.

“You smell good,” you mumbled, voiced half muffled by his neck.

“Do I meet your standards, princess?”

“Y’always do, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Arthur scoffed lightly.

“Very pretty. Prettiest boy I’ve ever met.”

You felt him shake his head, clearly not believing you, but you could feel his heart rate began to pick up. You didn’t have to look up to know he was blushing.

“Go ahead and rest. You want me to send away visitors?”

“Only for an hour. Just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Promise me you’ll only let me sleep for a bit.

“I promise,” was the last thing Arthur said to you before you fell asleep.

By the end of the day, your nightstand and the floor around it was filled with various trinkets and goods from the other gang members; Lenny had brought you your favorite candy; Javier had gotten you a new necklace that he totally hadn’t stolen; Mary-Beth bought you a new shirt, your previous destroyed beyond repair. It was at that point you remembered that your old boots and hat were still at the O’Driscoll’s camp.

To your surprise, even Micah had stopped in, albeit briefly, giving you a quick apology before leaving. You and Arthur had shared a good laugh at that after he was long gone. As sick as you were at hearing the question “how are you doing”, it was nice to be cared for like this.

Throughout the day, Arthur stayed by your side, leaving for only a few moments to relieve himself, grab something for you, or to confer with the others in camp. He would call on one of the girls in camp to help you when needed to relieve yourself. Dutch, bless him, didn’t call on Arthur once that day, giving both of you much needed rest. When you weren’t getting visitors or resting, you and Arthur chatted or cuddled in silence.

Darkness had long since flooded your tent, the lantern hanging unlit in the center of your tent. Laying on your right side, Arthur lay behind you, arm strung across your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. As you closed your eyes, the warmth of the man behind you better than any blanket on the market, you realized there was no way you were ever going to be able to sleep alone again.

You found yourself fine with that fact.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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cherry-pop-elf · 2 months

Text

George Weasley Sexcanons

Because im extremely sick, so im bored

Warnings? Sex sex sex and more sex. Along with some submissive Georgie baby~

What gets his engine going

He’s more of the submissive type. Your definition of a service top. He loves to make sure his partner is feeling so good. Their comfort comes, heh, first before anything else. Mans has 100% just gotten off from eating out/rimming/sucking off

He’s….Hes got mommy issues. As much as we love Molly, you can not deny she was rather verbally abusive. Not to mention having seven kids means you’ll Never have one on one properly. I won’t rant, but mans got a serious mommy kink. Doesn’t matter if you are a man, he’s calling you mommy!

Is a sucker for risk taking. He’s gonna try and eat you out at a quidditch game, jerk you off at the leaky cauldron, he’s gonna rail you in an alley way. He’s an adrenaline junkie, and probably wouldn’t be to shy at the idea of actually doing it infront of people. He likes the rush of it all

If you get a tattoo with his name, or some kind of indication you are his? Oh that’s going to make him feral. He doesn’t actually believe in owning and such, but there is something so enjoyable about it in fantasy. Kink doesn’t equal reality! ((And obviously I don’t need to clarify what is off the table))

Let me say this once, mans has a MAJOR Breeding Kink. Doesn’t matter if you can get pregnant. He’s going to find a way to fuck a baby into you. He’s a Weasley. They love to prove the impossible

Like I said about mommy kink, he is so gonna be a brat. It’s not a number one go to, that’s Fred, but he loves being a menace to society. If he’s not being a brat, you calling him a bad boy might make him cry. That’s why it’s healthy to communicate in the bed room!

Spank him. Spank him nice and good.

Lingerie lingerie lingerie

He might be a size queen, but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭

Oh he just loves doing it in his office. There is something so hot about it. To have you sit in his office, as he eats you out. How you would pin him on the desk, and pound him so hard it starts to rattle. To have you casually come in, wearing nothing at all, and crawling over all the paper work to get to him. If he’s having a bad day, sneak into his office and remind him he’s the boss

Don’t think you won’t be shared with Fred. They are magical twins. They share everything together.

Don’t be shy of your body hair. He likes his bitches natural. There’s also something so romantic to him about it. That you can just be your truest self around him, and not need to panic about your looks. Just your true self, and such

Speaking of natural self, he likes his bitches a little thicc. Blame his dad for liking em big. Nothing like some love handles to grab onto, or some ear warmers to keep him trapped in place. But most importantly? The cuddles

Expect to be of ‘use’ during busy hours at work. Like sucking him off while he does paper work, or being stress relief after a Karen comes into town

Boobs? Butt? Mans a thigh guy. He loves himself a partner with thick thighs, long legs, and some well pedicured feet. Yes. He’s a feet guy. Thigh highs in orange will make him cream alright

Expect to be his partner in trying new sex shop items

Speaking of that, don’t be scared to try new things with him. You never know. Maybe your weird kink could be the next hottest item the shop!

AFAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position with you would be the mating press. He just loves having your legs over his shoulders, and getting a front row seat at your begging face

He is going to be that type to fill you full of cum, and make you walk around with it

Sundresses baby

Peg him silly boo boo. He will ride that strap on until sunrise don’t even question it

Expect lots of cock warming. Especially when busy at work

Your tits are his now. His favorite thing to play with, when it isn’t your pussy. Even not in a sexual sense. You’ll just wake up with a hand on the tibbie

AMAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position is cowgirl. To have his hands on your chest, as he pants. Whimpering and moaning, as you move in and out of him. To have you spank him to move faster. Gets him all kinds of work up

He’s gonna be a shit head and sneak under tables a lot and have his fun with you

You will wake up to him dealing with your morning wood

He is going to sit on your cock when he is doing work. He will be a bastard and spin his hips

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querenciasturniolo · 9 months

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hi hi, i was wondering if i could get a chris x f!reader where chris has a crush on reader and tries to impress her by dressing up as steve for halloween bc reader loves stranger things and when she finds out it’s super fluffy like they finally get together?

Tysm, I’m really excited for halloween lol 🎃

harrington ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: swearing, cheesiness

summary: request

a/n: this was so fun, i’m so PUMPED for halloween thanks to this, so thank you 🎃 not proofread btw

this is the first of MANY, i’m gonna try my best to get more and more finished and posted, but here you are 🧡

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

“When are you guys getting here? The party starts in twenty minutes, and it takes half an hour to get there.”

You heard Nick groan over the receiver as you pulled the final curler from your hair and combed through it.

“We’ll be there soon, Chris just had to choose the most difficult DIY prop for his costume.” Nick said. Before you could even ask what Nick was talking about, chaos ensued. Chris and Nick bickering at each other was nothing new, but over the phone it was almost impossible to understand.

You snorted and told them you’d see them when they got there, though you knew by the time you finished your sentence that they couldn’t hear you. You dropped your phone onto your sink and took a step back, your eyes roaming over your entire outfit to make sure it looked right. You adjusted your skirt and tucked in the back of your shirt, doing a small twirl and shaking your head at how corny you are.

Nancy Wheeler, seemingly an easy character to replicate, but for some reason it still felt cheesy. You’d been a fan of Stranger Things since the first season, and you’d finally gotten over yourself enough to go as her for Halloween. Chris had pestered you to tell him what you were going as, same with Nick and Matt, but you wanted to keep it a secret to save yourself from backing out at the last second if they’d made a joke about it.

The knock on your door made you jump. You sighed and laughed quietly at yourself as you headed towards the door. Another knock sounded just as you twisted the handle.

“I’m coming, Jesus. Hold your hors—”

Your eyes went wide as you met Chris’ eyes, his own face resembling the same amount of shock as yours. Nick’s footsteps were heard coming from behind Chris, but you couldn’t pull your shocked gaze away from him.

“Are we leaving or—no fucking way. Chris, I told you!” Nick exclaimed, turning around and gesturing for Matt to come quicker. “Matt! I was right, they’re fucking matching!”

Chris was standing directly in front of you, dressed as Steve Harrington, the bat thrown over his shoulder. Your face was on fire, your heart racing as you fish-mouthed. You couldn’t possibly go to the party as Steve and Nancy, that would be insinuating that the two of you meant to do this. That would be insinuating that the two of you planned it, to go as a couple.

“I-I can change?” You said, your voice weak. Chris snapped out of his shock and looked down at you, shaking his head.

“What? No, why would you change?” He asked. You noticed the pink tinge to his cheeks almost immediately, which just made your chest ache more.

“I don’t even know.” You said honestly, Chris smiling and looking back.

“We should get going, though.” He said. You nodded and shut your door, locking it and sighing before you turned around and followed them to the car.

The drive was silent apart from the music playing moderately through the speakers. They had been your friends for ages, and the fact that you could all just sit in silence and enjoy each other’s company was perfect, in a sense. You had your feet perched up on the back of Chris’ seat, grateful your skirt was long enough to cover you and that your mother wasn’t there to tell you to sit like a lady, just scrolling through your phone. A text popped up in a banner, and you clicked on it without even seeing who sent it.

chris: you make a good nancy

You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you typed out a message.

and you make a good steve. how did you manage to hide your costume from me?

The moment the message was sent, you realized you were grinning down at your screen. You quickly schooled your features and looked out the window, watching the sun go down and the street lights glare against the glass. Your phone vibrated in your lap, and you forced yourself to wait a few moments before you picked it up.

chris: i’m stealthy, like a ninja.

A cackle bubbled out of you, your hand slapping over your mouth as your cheeks heated up. You could see Nick glance over at you from your peripheral, his eyebrows furrowed before he looked back at his own screen. You cleared your throat and sat back in your seat, dropping your feet on the floor of the car as you locked your phone and dropped it onto your lap.

The rest of the car ride was silent, your face warm and your heart pounding the moment the four of you pulled up to the party. Chris was by your side in an instant, his arm over your shoulders as the two of you walked into the slightly crowded house.

You couldn’t even remember who was throwing the party, but you were grateful that it wasn’t too crowded, and everyone was friendly. You talked to quite a few people, Chris’ arm never leaving your shoulder as the two of you passed through the house.

“You know.” You said, turning your head to face him. Chris looked down at you with raised eyebrows. “You haven’t let go of me all night.”

Chris smiled down at you and shrugged his shoulders. “I have nothing to say for myself, other than you look great and we match. What’s Steve without his Nancy?” He asked, squeezing your shoulder. You pulled away and stood in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why did you dress as Steve?” You asked. Chris frowned at you and sputtered, shaking his head.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I dress as Steve?” He asked his cheeks tinged red as he avoided your gaze. The look on your face when he finally met your eyes again made him sigh and he shrugged.

“God it’s so cheesy, bare with me.” He said. You nodded, waiting patiently for him to go on with a growing smile on your face. “I’ve like, been into you for a while now. And I thought if I went as Steve for Halloween, you’d be impressed. It’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same way, obviously. I just, I don’t even know what I was thinking, actually. Forget I said anyth—”

You rested your hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up as you pulled it away when he stopped talking.

“That was so incredibly fucked up, are you serious?” He asked, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you shook your head and smiled up at him.

“How else was I supposed to get you to shut up long enough for me to say I do feel the same?” You asked, Chris’ shocked face morphing into a fond, shy smile.

“Really?” He asked, his hands coming up from his sides to rest on your waist. You practically beamed at him as you nodded and leaned up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. You dropped back down on your heels and took a step back, his hands dropping back to his sides as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Really. Now, ready to get back to the party?” You asked, turning and walking away. He was soon right by your side, his hand entwining with yours as he tossed the bat over his shoulder.

“I was born ready, Wheeler.”

tags: @strniolo , @toyourloves , @ssturniolo , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @emmssturniolo , @lvrsparadise , @tuktuk34 , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee

#chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 year

Text

cold nights & a sunday morning

nico hischier x f!reader one shot

warnings: swearing, (no specific opposing team), fluff, smuttish themes

You were weary, eyes blinking slowly under the curtain of exhaustion that had seemingly enveloped you – encouraged by the thick duvet you’d pulled up to your chin to keep out the chill; the dull lighting you’d left on on the other side of the bed helped shroud your pocket of the bed in darkness, and the TV was on, a movie playing at the foot of your bed, the volume turned down so you could only just make out the muttering of the characters.

You’d been half-trying to sleep, half-trying to keep yourself awake, and it seemed the internal conflict waged a battle in your mind and kept your body balancing constantly on the edge of sleep. You’d been yawning for at least half an hour, but for whatever reason, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to go to sleep.

You’d read an article a couple of days ago, about how people tend to fall asleep around people they love. It had something to do with safety and comfortability, and lately you’d been finding that particular theory to be true. Take now, for instance, you didn’t know if it was because you acknowledged that study and were thinking about it that was the reason you couldn’t sleep, or if it was an unconscious and intrinsic need to actually not be alone when you went to sleep.

It had to have been another ten minutes before you gave up on the idea of sleeping entirely, and you’d rolled over onto your back, eyes bleary and dry from attempting to sleep, and tried to focus on the TV screen at the bottom of your bed. You’d seen the film before; once when you were younger and your parents had put it on, not realising exactly how rude or explicit it had been for an impressionable nine year old.

The Rebound.

It was only around half way through, but it didn’t take much to get back into it – especially considering you’d been half listening to it the entire time, and it made you smile, it really did.

If anything, the bright colours and moving pictures only seemed to lull you into an even deeper exhaustion, so much so that by the time the front door had shut – it was a gentle sound, and you knew that he’d tried to be as quiet about it, but the door on this house always seemed to rattle the walls – you’d nestled back down under the covers, eyes heavy and constantly yawning.

And by the time you heard the telltale padded footsteps traipse up the stairs and head to your bedroom – slowly and carefully, as though he expected you to be asleep and was trying his hardest not to make a sound – you’d perked up a little, anticipation and excitement taking away a hint of exhaustion. You pushed down the covers a little, so you could peek over the duvet and wait for the door handle to turn.

When it did, you knew that it would be virtually impossible for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in time to see if you were asleep, so you took a moment to appreciate him in all his shuited glory.

He must have been wearing a beanie at some point, because his hair looked a little windswept, the ends poking up in an unnatural way – one that made him look effortlessly beautiful, even in the glow of the TV light. He walked through the door on his tiptoes, blinking a little as he adjusted to the darkness, a duffel bag in his hand and a waistcoat draped over his other arm. He’d undone his tie and unbuttoned the first few on his shirt – probably as soon as he’d gotten back into his car, and through your squinted eyes, you could make out his grimace as he knocked his bag against the doorframe, his eyes immediately going to you curled up in the bed.

He waited a few seconds, expecting you to move at the kerfuffle, before continuing his journey, gently placing his bag on the ground and his waistcoat and tie on the back of the chair next to his side of his bed – the opposite side to the one you were on. This time, however, you had to shut your eyes fully because his bedside light meant he’d get a full view of your face, and you were thankful that the duvet covered your smile as he turned around to face you, his fingers working to unbutton his shirt.

You only opened your eyes hesitantly, one eye at a time, when you heard his footsteps recede towards the en-suite on the other side of the room. He had his back to you, and you didn’t know when it had happened, but he must have picked up his pyjamas from underneath his pillow (did you fall asleep?), because he was wearing his sleeping shirt and a pair of shorts.

Just before he went to shut the bathroom door, however, he sent a glance in your direction and your eyes flew shut – eliciting silent laughs from underneath the duvet on your end – and after a couple of seconds you heard the mumble of the TV cut out and the light diminish entirely – the light behind your eyes blacking out. Then, when you thought he’d make his way to the back of the bathroom, you heard footsteps heading in your direction.

You froze. You held your breath and used all of your willpower to mute said laughing and neutralise your facial expression. You felt him pause at the side of the bed, and your resolve almost crumbled entirely when you felt a warm breath hover over your cheek for a second too long. It briefly crossed your mind that you’d been caught at lying, and that thrill sent a shot of adrenalin through your veins – but it all halted when he dropped a soft kiss on your cheek.

This time you had to stop yourself from smiling for entirely different reasons.

He honestly and completely melted you everytime he showed you some affection when he thought you weren’t awake – a simple kiss on the cheek or forehead was the most common gesture, but there had also been the occasional hand on your hair when he’d walk past the sofa and you’d fallen asleep.

You had once thought that men like that were only limited to pages of a book or movies, but Nico had quickly demolished that view when he waltzed into your life with nothing but soft touches and sweet nothings.

He was so fucking gentle you had to stop yourself from screaming sometimes.

You only opened your eyes when you heard the bathroom door click shut, and from then on out you spent the next four and a half minutes hanging off every sound in the bathroom – the whir of the toothbrush, the tap switching on and off.

You had neglected to move from your position, but before he came back into the room, you made sure to let loose on your laughing, a hand securely clamped over your mouth at the hilarity of it all. You never really had the opportunity to get back at Nico with his silly teasing, but now you were kind of excited at the opportunity to get one for yourself.

You heard the light switch off and the door click open, and you shut your eyes, heart thrumming with the inevitable anticipation of knowing he’d climb into the bed and shuffle himself as close to you as he could without trying to wake you.

He did just that; gently lifting up the duvet and sliding under the covers as efficiently as he could so as to not let too much cold air draft inside. And when he’d made himself comfortable, switching off the light at the side of the bed, you felt him shuffle closer. You knew he’d be watching your face, anxious not to wake you, and you took the opportunity to open your eyes.

It was almost instantaneous, the way he reacted. He seemed to pass through multiple stages of grief, his eyes widening as he recoiled, before sighing and rolling onto his back, hands over his eyes as he laughed softly.

“You should have seen your face.” You whispered, unable to help yourself from smiling as you took his wrist in your hand to peel his own away from his face.

He let you take his wrist, and his other hand flopped onto his stomach as he twisted his head to look at you, just as you used his wrist to lift his arm over your shoulders as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“You made me jump.” He replied, rolling his eyes but moving impossibly closer to you anyway. You both knew neither of you would end up waking up in this position, but it was always nice to have a quick game debrief in bed when you didn’t go to the odd match.

They’d won tonight, and Nico had played an insane amount of minutes on the ice so you knew tonight’s debrief would be short.

“It can’t have been that scary.” You defended, lifting the duvet back over both of you.

“Believe it or not, you’re very good at pretending to be asleep.”

“Thank you for that information–”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m not promising anything.” You shrugged, unashamed to find that not a single part of you felt guilty for giving him such a fright. If anything, you guessed it probably woke him up a bit.

There was a slight lull to the conversation, and you felt a sudden onslaught of exhaustion hit you, the adrenaline wearing off as the giddiness and anticipation from your previous trick began to dwindle. You yawned just as Nico took a deep breath, a curious leg swiping over to your side of the bed.

You practically felt his confusion and the way he furrowed his brow as he moved slightly underneath you, “Is there a problem?” You muttered, knowing exactly what the issue was.

You didn’t know if it was a Nico thing, but whenever he climbed into bed and noticed the searing heat coming from the heated blanket, he always had something to say – usually it was a grumble about the warmth contaminating the cold sheets on his side of the mattress, but this time he said nothing against it.

Instead, he tightened his hold on you and somehow manoeuvred the both of you so you were laying completely on your half of the bed, you surprisingly finding yourself almost entirely on top of him, save for one leg that had found its way out of his hold.

You pushed yourself up with your arms caging his head in and tilted your head in an inquisitive manner. Nico copied you, and through the film of darkness you could just make out a sheepish glint in his eyes as he crossed his arms behind his head, seemingly pleased at the position he’d managed to get you in.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed with his behaviour.

He shrugged, “I was cold, and you’ve been on this thing for hours now, so what better way to warm up than to have one side pressed to the heated blanket and the other to my equally hot girlfriend?”

You arched a brow, half bothering to smother a smile at the double meaning he’d implied, “You’re despicable, honestly.”

“Despicably handsome, no?” He yawned, running a hand through his hair, before smirking at you shaking your head.

You didn’t have the heart to deny him his good looks, but instead you pressed a kiss on his lips. It was short, and you peeled back almost immediately after – as though you were testing the waters, but Nico seemed to have been expecting you to pull such a move, because a hand on the back of your head prevented you from recoiling too far before you’d practically collided with him in a mess, only just managing to catch yourself on your elbows. It was a searing kiss, one that took you by surprise with his eagerness and sudden burst of energy, and then before you could control yourself, you were laughing against his mouth.

“I mean, I was going to say you’re despicably good at hockey, but I guess that’s also true.” You were a little breathless, and your cheeks were burning under his scrutiny, “That goal you scored was–”

“Sexy?” He asked, and you could feel his chest heaving a little from underneath you, so you slid off him, only keeping one leg draped across his torso after he caught it with his hand. You still propped yourself up on your elbow, but welcomed the heat from the electric blanket.

“Sexy.” You repeated, “It was from a mile out and went through three pairs of legs, an honest miracle.”

You could see him grin excitedly as he squeezed your leg in response, “Always happy for your support.”

“Oh, but let’s not forget that assist, either–” Your fist landed on his chest, and you could tell he was laughing to some extent, thoroughly amused at the spectacle you were making of his performance, “because that was incredible as well.”

“Keep talking dirty to me.” He bit his lip, and you swore you melted when he literally giggled. You couldn’t make out much in the dark, but you swore the light from the shut bathroom door caught the glint of mischief that seemed to have a permanent residence nowadays.

Of course he’d relate hockey talk to more suggestive themes, but if you were being completely honest, it was probably one of the things you loved most about him. He did seem to have a rather talented knack of making you laugh at the cheesiest of lines.

“You shoulder-barged number seventeen into tomorrow and gave Jack the chance to score, that was impressive – your tackle, I guess the goal was alright, but it wasn’t you–” you stopped, holding up a finger, “let me get my notes.” You pretended to roll over to root through the drawer on your bedside table but a firm hand curled around your waist and pulled you back against a rather solid chest, eliciting a groan from you as the wind was knocked out of your lungs for a brief moment in time.

“You don’t need your notes.” He breathed a laugh, stifling an awkward yawn at the same time.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, reaching a hand up to brush the strands of hair that had fallen into his face and were tickling his nose uncomfortably.

“Please can you turn off the electric blanket?” He mumbled, and from the tone of his voice alone you could deduct that his drowsiness was beginning to take effect, so you nodded, twisting over to reach down the side of your bed and flicking the switch off.

“I’ll be cold.” You let the unspoken question lingering behind you words hang in the air for a few moments before readjusting yourself so you had your head back on the pillow, and it barely took a second for the words to register in Nico’s head before he was wrapping an arm around you, tugging your body closer to his.

He draped a leg in between yours and placed his forehead against the back of your shoulder blade.

“I won’t move, promise.” You felt his lips press a delicate kiss on your back.

“Thank you.”

___

You woke up earlier than usual. You could tell it was earlier because the light peeking out from behind the blinds was dimmer than it usually was – but it wasn’t that that was your main concern.

Your main concern was that you were uncomfortably hot. The duvet was pulled up over your forehead, and tightly, which meant the air was stiflingly hot, and you could feel the repercussions of it burning your entire body. It also didn’t help matters when you could feel an even warmer body curled around your back – like how a koala hugs a tree. Nico had his chest pressed against you, his head resting on your pillow (because it felt as though neither of you had moved much in the night), but an arm tightly slung across your waist and a leg snaked between yours.

The tangle of limbs and sharing of body heat certainly had added a little more intricate difficulty to the predicament.

He kept his promise, then.

You laid there for a few more minutes, knowing that you’d eventually have to remove yourself before you ended up suffocating – either from the weight of his body on top of yours, or the heat that was putting you on the edge of sweating.

You were fine until you weren’t – until the desire to get out and until that magnetic force emanating from downstairs compelled you to the point you just couldn’t spend another freaking minute in that pit of…ew.

You were close to the edge of your side of the bed; so close that you could stick a leg out and touch the floor with your feet and slide out. When you’d planted both on the floor, you slowly grabbed Nico’s arm, careful not to disrupt the covers too much or startle him awake. It was no easy feat, trying to wrestle yourself from his grip whilst also trying not to let him roll over onto your side of the bed too quickly; you had to turn awkwardly, a hand going up to catch the shoulder that had been resting on your back and gently lowering him onto the mattress.

You slipped out yourself, turning around momentarily to make sure he didn’t fully wake up: he threw an arm out onto the space you’d previously occupied, and shoved his other arm under your pillow. Apart from that he didn’t stir one bit.

You shrugged on a jumper, and took a pair of socks out of the drawer, putting your slippers on over the top. It was still chilly, but the heating had clicked on a while ago, and you could feel the warmth from the radiators whenever you walked past one on your way to the kitchen.

Quiet Sunday mornings were rare, even more so this particular morning, because Nico didn’t have an early skating session. Sure, he had practice after lunch, but it was only nine.

Breakfast in bed was almost tradition at this point.

By the time you’d made it back upstairs, a tray full of food and drink, Nico was awake. He was sitting up (on his side of the bed this time), an arm dropped across the top of his head and he was lazily flicking through the TV channels.

When he saw you push your way through the bedroom door, however, he threw the covers off himself and took the tray from you, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Good morning.” He smiled sweetly, moving over to place the tray in the middle of the bed.

You followed him, careful not to nudge the tray as you climbed back in, kicking your slippers off before doing so.

“Morning.” You replied, taking your half of what was on the tray and placing it on your bedside table, taking an eager gulp of coffee as you did so.

_ _ _

It didn’t take long for either of you to scarf down your breakfasts, and for some reason you’d found yourself at the foot of the bed – still under the covers – and leant against the small endboard, a pillow cushioning the sharp edge.

You cradled a miraculously still-hot cup of coffee, but it was Nico your attention was on. He wasn’t doing anything anyone else would deem particularly interesting, simply put, he was just being. You were deep into a conversation about your plans for the next week or so, but he was so deeply ethereal with his morning messed up hair, pyjamas, and that stupid smile on his face when he talked your ear off that it practically took your breath away.

Three years of this gig and you never once weren’t insanely head over heels for him. Sometimes it scared you, but times like this cancelled out any fears you’d ever had.

You had to duck your face into your hoodie to hide the dopey grin that had made its way onto your face because you couldn’t keep the adoration off your face. And the more you thought about it, the less control you had over how absolutely crazy you looked trying to hide it from him.

He stopped talking, a secretive smile curling at his lips when he caught your eye. He raised a brow, and you felt your cheeks redden at getting caught – what for, you didn’t exactly know, because it wasn’t like you had any reason to hide from him. You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks redden as he nudged your leg with his.

“How long have you not been listening?” He asked, tilting his head in amusement.

He wasn’t annoyed by any means, not if the smirk now gracing his features had anything to say, if anything he was teasing you. There was a sparkle of cheek in his eyes, and you could tell he was a little confused at your staring.

Your heart was pounding a little in your chest, and you swallowed somewhat anxiously, “I was listening, you were just talking about the game on Tuesday.”

He blinked, the smirk dipping a little, “Then why were you looking at me like that?”

You shrugged, tucking your hoodie back down so he could see your face. You were tempted to deny his accusation – that you weren’t looking at him in any particular way, so you negotiated with yourself.

“And what did it look like?”

He paused, “Like you were thinking really hard about something, but you looked almost happy about it – and it was a soft kind of look.”

You nodded, “I guess that’s accurate.”

“What were you thinking about?” His voice was gentle, and you could feel the piercing weight of his brown eyes boring into you when you looked down at your mug, unable to look him straight in the eye.

You were thinking about him, truthfully. It was a topic you’d both discussed multiple times before, and one that both of you felt easy and comfortable approaching, but there was something about this specific train of thought that had you getting suddenly flustered. You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you tapped your fingers against the mug.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He breathed an awkward laugh, and when you looked up at him you could see the slight red flush on his own cheeks.

Was he afraid of what you were going to say? You’d been silent for a while, and nearly dodged almost every question he’d thrown at you, so it would make sense for him to look a little tenser. Or was it out of anticipation - the way he seemed to push himself further up against the headboard? Did he know what you were thinking about?

“I was thinking about you.” You admitted quietly, knowing you needed to throw something out there before the tension in the room became too awkward to bear. You knew he could tell you were holding back, but you wanted to keep some cards close to your chest for the time being.

Perhaps if he asked the right questions…

You knew the insecurity that had rooted itself in your mind was irrational – you guys had openly talked about it before, and agreed with each other on the matter, but now you were really considering doing it, there was a whole new wave of apprehension you were drowning in when you even thought about spitting the words out.

He seemed to perk up, however, when you spoke. His eyebrows shot up, as though he was surprised, but you had an inkling he was just curious about what exactly you were thinking about him. And judging from the smile on his face and the way his ears burned redder, you could tell he was flattered by the attention and the admission.

“What about me?” He maintained eye contact, but you could see his throat bob and hear the tightness in his voice.

He was fidgeting – you could see him playing with his fingers on top of the covers.

You shrugged, trying to play it off as more casual. The last thing you wanted was to put him on edge.

“Just…the future, I guess. Us.”

Something flickered across his face, and you could tell immediately that saying that was the wrong thing to do. It sent warning signals blaring in his mind, and his smile faltered momentarily.

“Nothing bad.” You corrected, eyes flicking to his chest when he took a shaky breath.

“What constitutes as ‘nothing bad’?”

You shrugged, hesitating, “Like, where would we be in a year's time?”

The question caught him off guard. He turned his eyes away from you, and you watched as his gaze danced around the room for a brief moment. His brows pulled together and his lips parted before he returned back to you again, “Together, for sure. Maybe not in this house, though.”

You swallowed, unable to help feeling a hint of disappointment in his answer. Moving house wasn’t the issue, it was more of the fact that he didn’t talk about what you wanted him to talk about.

Still, you were curious as to what he meant; this house was amazing. It was big enough for the both of you, and maybe even a dog or something, there was a spare room and you guys had an ensuite. It was also slap bang in the middle of a nice enough neighbourhood. In other words, you didn’t see how it could get much better than this – it was almost perfect, and you knew even if you stayed here you’d be happy. So, understandably, you couldn’t help but be a little confused at his words.

“What’s wrong with this house?” You asked.

He was the one that chose it – you just moved in with him, so you couldn’t really see the issue.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Nothing really. It was just an idea that’s been in the back of my mind for a while now.”

You were even more confused now.

“Why?” You couldn’t help yourself, but by not giving you a reason, you were even more intrigued that you had been initially, and judging from the way Nico stuttered in spitting out his words, you gathered that maybe he wasn’t telling you something either.

“Just that it’s quite small. I mean, we could only ever have one person sleep in the spare room at a time, and we’ve got a fair amount of friends and family members that might want to stay at the same time as each other. I thought we might just need to upgrade a little.”

Fair enough.

“So, in a year’s time, you might want to have moved out of here?” You clarified, and he nodded.

You took a gulp of coffee to buy yourself time.

“And what do you see us as?” You worded the question a little differently, hoping that he’d somehow catch onto the insinuation. You’d figured you probably wouldn’t get very far into what you wanted to actually talk about if you kept dancing around the subject and getting distracted with his wordings of things.

Nico gulped, the colour reappearing in his cheeks as he once again resumed fidgeting with his fingers. You wanted to sit next to him and pull his hands apart, get him to mess around with yours instead, but the anticipation of what he’d say next had you on the edge of your seat; frozen into place at the end of the bed as the potential weight of your future relationship hung in the balance.

You knew if he didn’t give you the answer you wanted to hear that you’d just have to take matters into your own hands (and it wouldn’t be for the first time, either), but from the way he’d seemingly blanched and turned nervous on you made you think maybe you’d hit the nail on the head and finally gotten through to him.

“Don’t be getting all shy on me now.” You echoed his earlier words, and he shook his head, pushing himself back up against the headboard with an anxious laugh.

Even the fact that he couldn’t look at you gave something away. Nico usually never shied away from eye contact – even in the worst of times, like when you’d be at some sort of conference and he’d catch your eye and you’d spend the rest of the night trying to ignore him for fear of making a fool of yourself – he was incredibly good at breaking you with a simple glance. He was wicked like that.

But now, he seemed to be the complete opposite.

He looked as nervous as you felt.

“Honestly, I kind of hope that in a year from now we’d be engaged – at the very least.” He admitted, and almost instantaneously his eyes shot to yours – seeking reassurance that you felt the same, that there might be some form of an answer written in the contours of your face.

He attempted a smile, but you were so stuck in your own head – because that was exactly what you’d wanted to hear – that you’d been struck dumb and completely speechless, your face a frozen picture of subdued shock.

Your mouth had parted slightly and your brows had furrowed, not in a way that suggested disapproval, but one that had your eyes widening.

You were only shaken out of your reverie when you let his words really sink in.

At the very least.

This time it was your turn to move – still clasping the lukewarm cup of coffee you sat up and moved across the mattress to sit by his side, still ensuring you were facing him. At your flurry of movement, the nervousness on his face melted away, and in its place was a rather relieved smile. The tension had dropped from his shoulders – this time it was his turn to suffer the anticipation of getting an answer.

“When you said ‘the very least’, did you mean–”

“–That I’d also like to be married in a year's time?” He interrupted, an eyebrow quirking up in amusement.

“Yes.”

“I did mean that, yes.” He nodded.

Your heart damn well fell out of your chest at that confession. So you had been on the same page.

That Tiffany’s box you’d found hidden at the back of his bedside table was intended for what you’d initially assumed.

“Okay, that’s good.” You sighed in relief, this time giving into your urges and tearing his hands apart from where he was tapping. You took one of his hands in his, not meeting his eyes despite every single morsel of will in your body compelling you to.

“Is it?” He lowered his head, trying to encourage you to look at him as he squeezed your hand.

You met his eyes, a spark of confidence shooting through you. You knew it would be momentary – a passing feeling, but you grasped the opportunity anyway, “It is. I was actually wondering if today would be an appropriate day to ask if you wanted to get engaged?”

Silence.

His expression didn’t waver in the slightest, and you gave him the benefit of the doubt in that he was just taking his time processing what you’d just asked him. The only sign you knew he’d heard you was the widening of his eyes and tighter grip on your hand.

“Did you just ask me to marry–”

“Yes.”

Your heart was hammering so hard against your sternum you wouldn’t be surprised if it jumped through your ribs and landed on the bed between you both. It was almost painful. Asking him to marry you wasn’t exactly on the agenda when you’d woken up this morning, and by putting the question out there, you’d practically bared your entire heart to him anyway. To you, this was as intimate as it got, and somehow you felt even more vulnerable knowing he had the power to break your heart with a simple syllable.

He seemed to jump into action before you could ask him if he needed some time to actually consider your proposal, because he was suddenly digging a hand in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms, until he took your other free hand and opened the palm.

You felt something drop into your hand, and you didn’t even need to look at it to know what it was.

“No fucking way.” You breathed, incredulous at the timing, “You had that in your pocket? So you–”

“I was gonna propose when I made you breakfast, but you woke up before me, so I couldn’t.” He grinned, excitement thrumming through his entire body.

“I ruined your proposal?” You asked meekly, feeling a little bit of guilt at the realisation.

Nico laughed, “No. If anything, I prefer this proposal to what I was gonna do.”

You swallowed, too stunned to really say or do anything but to turn your attention to the magnificent ring in your hand. It had a divine weight to it. It was silver, and even before you’d held it up to the light you could see the diamonds sparkling; they were dotted along the entire band, and the main diamond was encased in a delicate halo of them.

Emerald cut.

You’d only mentioned that kind of cut once in your entire three years of being together, but he’d listened, and most importantly, he’d remembered.

“Fuck, this is stunning.” You breathed, not even thinking twice about it before sliding it onto your left finger and holding it up to the light.

It was gorgeous, and even then you didn’t think the beauty of it lived up to simply just being ‘gorgeous’. You couldn’t find the words to even begin describing it, and the only way you could even express anything was to kiss Nico with absolutely everything you had.

It was messy, so messy. Teeth clashed, hands seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, and when you both pulled away, your hair was a complete mess, and you were almost heaving to recover some oxygen. Nico’s cheeks were flushed and his lips were red; his chest was also moving up and down at a rapid rate – even to say he was a professional athlete – and his pupils were blown so wide you almost had to do a double take.

“Was that a yes?” He breathed, gulping and trying to smooth some of your hair down from where he’d raked his fingers through it in a mad haze.

“Definitely.” You nodded, rolling over to your side of the bed.

A body followed your movements, and you were plastered to the bed, your front pressed into the mattress as Nico took your hair in his hands, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck and succeeding in distracting you immensely from the task at hand.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, goosebumps rising on your skin as he continued his path, hands sneaking under your jumper.

You sighed contentedly, pleasant shivers rolling down your spine as he squeezed your waist and used his newfound grip to flip you over. Your hand remained fixed in its goal to open the small cupboard door underneath your drawer in your bedside table, and you purposefully turned your cheek and pressed it into the pillow. You knew you’d be completely fucked if you even so much as looked at him right now.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his hair fall into curtains in front of his face, and you had to restrain yourself from fixing it yourself, trying to ignore the burning desire that seemed to drip slowly from your head right to your toes. Your nerves were on fire, as though they’d been exposed to something, and that delicious warmth of craving only seemed to accumulate – made even worse when Nico used one of his hands to lift his shirt over his head.

You pressed your cheek further into the pillow and turned your eyes to your bedside table, trying your absolute best to ignore the trails of desire his touch left in its wake.

“I’m trying to get you your ring.” You whispered, and he froze, arms stabilising him as he secured his fists against your pillow.

You looked at him, eyes briefly flickering down to his exposed torso; broad, toned and nothing short of delicious. Your gaze trailed down, and before you let yourself get carried away, you turned your attention back to the cupboard.

“My ring?” He echoed, ripping his focus away from your face to your hand, of which was doing an incredibly poor job at trying to locate a simple box.

“Yes, your ring.” You replied, sighing in frustration of more than one type, and twisting your torso out from his cage of arms so you were half dangling off the bed, looking at the cupboard upside down.

“Careful.” Nico exclaimed, his hands reaching out to grab your torso to prevent you from falling to the ground. His concern was short lived, however, because after only a few seconds, you could feel him get distracted at the exposed skin bared to him. It started with soft touches that had your muscles jerking away from him, and upon seeing how you unconsciously reacted to his touch, you felt him adjust himself. Before you knew it, his hair was tickling your exposed skin, and the exact same hot, open-mouthed kisses that had previously been decorated against the skin of your neck were being dutifully pressed to your navel – in an even more distracting area.

You groaned, reaching one hand from the back of the cupboard to try and shove his head away, but he must have predicted your movements because a warm hand clamped down on your wrist before you could even touch him.

“Do you want me to find that ring or what?” You muttered, and you felt his breath halt against your skin.

“Yes.” Was his answer, and before he could even continue speaking, your fingers made contact with the soft surface of exactly what you were looking for.

You took it in your hand, and without even needing to say anything to Nico, he helped pull you back onto the bed.

You flicked the latch, and spun the box around to face him. He was sitting back on his heels, legs straddling yours, but as soon as his eyes landed on the silver ring with a strip of diamonds in the centre he pushed himself up slightly.

“Holy shit.” Was his reaction.

You smirked, feeling a little smug. “See, I actually put it somewhere you wouldn’t have accidentally found it, say, if you were looking for the TV remote.”

He took the ring out of the box, and wasted no time in slipping it onto his finger, “What do you mean?”

“I mean you took a while working up the courage to propose, didn’t you? You’ve had this ring,” you lifted your hand, placing it next to his and admired them both as a pair. You’d gone out of your way to pick one for him that was similar to the one you’d found in his drawer a few months ago, and quite frankly, you were beginning to lose some patience, “for at least a couple of months.”

Nico turned his head, raising his brows, “How did you know that?”

“I found it when I was looking for the TV remote a while ago.”

“So you knew I was planning to propose this entire time?”

You nodded, this time your eyes unashamedly raking his torso.

God, you were so lucky.

Then, “Can we get married in Switzerland?”

His eyes shot to yours, a hopeful grin on his face – excitement practically oozing from his pores, “Really?”

“Yeah. I just figured it’s about time we went to your folks instead of them coming to us.”

It was a partial truth, and Nico seemed to light up from the inside, sunshine emanating from his features.

“I knew I wanted to marry you for a reason.” He joked, and you rolled your eyes, scoffing lightly.

“Switzerland is way prettier than New Jersey anyway–”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could say something about how smooth and how quickly he’d responded with that comment, Nico had shut you up by winding his hands in your hair and pressing his mouth to yours in a frenzy of desire.

#nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagine #nico hischier imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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