#FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k

playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers

content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(

in which masterlist!

note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺

—

the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.

with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.

he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.

“what?”

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”

jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?

it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.

he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.

“is there anything else you want to eat?”

you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.

a kiss is granted to your forehead.

when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.

“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.

you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.

jungkook thinks you’re so cool.

you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.

you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.

there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.

his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.

because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.

“juwon?”

the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.

and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.

the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.

the slap thins out into a ringing noise.

“are you insane?!”

it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.

it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.

“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”

you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.

“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”

“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”

“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”

he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.

“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”

the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.

“jungkook!”

before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.

your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?

“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”

“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”

“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.

“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”

your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.

“stop it! you’re scaring me!”

that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.

“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.

“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”

he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…

“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”

he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.

“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”

your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.

“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”

and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.

you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?

“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.

but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.

“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”

“dude, how are you still speaking?!”

it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.

“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”

—

jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.

and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.

“baby, let’s go back.”

he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.

“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”

“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”

his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.

“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”

“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”

“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”

that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.

“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”

oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.

jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.

“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”

“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“

he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.

so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.

he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.

“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”

you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.

ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.

“get in, ____.”

and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.

you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?

you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.

juwon was right, you never change.

—

“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.

“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”

“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”

“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”

you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.

you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.

“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”

“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.

“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”

for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.

“a sofa?”

“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.

he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”

“quiet!”

he winces. “sorry, hyung!”

—

you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.

“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”

“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”

your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.

“he’s not worth it.”

“you are to me.” he declares.

it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.

“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”

he gazes at you with longing.

you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.

“are we really not going to talk about this?”

“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”

“baby…”

“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”

foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.

“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”

—

jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.

he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?

wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.

shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.

he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.

“you loved me too. once.”

however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.

and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.

—

you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.

you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.

“yah! why are doing just standing there?”

the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.

“i told you to stop doing that!”

jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.

“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”

“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”

that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.

the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.

“what happened to your face?”

fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.

“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.

“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”

“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”

your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.

“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”

“it’s for jungkook,” you add.

“doesn’t he have that?”

“it’s not here,”

your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.

“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”

“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.

he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”

“anywhere else?”

“nope!”

“sooo, do you have it or not?”

“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”

he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.

“thank you!”

“you’re welcome!”

—

despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.

a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.

how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.

stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.

you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.

you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?

you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.

“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”

“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”

“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”

you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.

“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”

it does hurt.

“thank you…” you reply shyly.

you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.

—

“baby, where did you go?”

jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.

he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.

“nowhere,”

you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.

his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.

a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.

he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.

your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.

for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”

“let’s go,”

he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.

“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”

“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

—

eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.

you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.

the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.

no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.

you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?

…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.

you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.

“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”

incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.

“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”

you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.

echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.

—

it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.

jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.

you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.

“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”

“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”

“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”

“did you box again?”

the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.

“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”

he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”

“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”

you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.

you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.

you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.

“why are you trying so hard?”

your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.

jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.

“there’s no one to fight.”

“turns out there is,” he argues.

he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.

“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”

stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.

but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.

they almost sound like a plead.

“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”

strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.

“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”

—

jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.

“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”

“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”

“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”

“three-”

“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”

“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”

he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.

“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”

you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.

“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.

“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”

jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”

he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.

“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”

“that’s what you took away from the story?”

“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”

you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”

“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.

“you’re crazy!”

“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.

the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.

“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”

your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because you’re crazy about me.”

the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.

“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”

“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”

fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.

“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”

“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”

and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.

you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”

he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.

“jungkook?”

“yes, baby?” he coos.

“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”

goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.

“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”

“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”

“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”

—

although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.

your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.

“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”

“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”

and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.

“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”

“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.

“let’s just turn on this one then.”

“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.

“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”

“who’s the other one for?”

jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.

“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”

“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”

“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”

“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”

—

“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”

“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”

he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.

“thank you!”

you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.

“aigoo, are you that hungry?”

“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”

“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”

“sorry, sorry!”

your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.

“how’s your cheek?”

“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”

“that means it’s healing well.”

“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”

“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”

that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.

“thank you,”

“huh? for what?”

“being jungkook’s happiness.”

from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.

“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”

he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.

“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”

you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.

“…or something like that.”

uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.

“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”

“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”

“what’s with the noise?”

you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”

jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.

“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”

—

“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”

and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”

jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”

“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”

“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”

“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”

“right? so we should protect it�� maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”

the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.

jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

[wineauntie]

ALWAYS AN ANGEL (never a god) — the hughes brothers x hughes sister!reader

summary: In which, Hughes sister!reader often feels like the black sheep of her family and eventually it all becomes too much for her to keep hidden.

PART TWO HERE

note: This is my first ever imagine on tumblr and the only one I’ve written about the Hughes brothers so please literally any feedback is welcomed with open arms 🙏

warnings: reader is the youngest sister, female reader, use of Y/N, use of nicknames like; honey, Angel and sweetheart, awkward dinner confrontations, reader is often full of doubt with the crippling need to please those around her before herself in this. Reader is also a little jealous of her brothers from time to time.

word count: 3.9k words

One of the most frequent things you've heard over the past few years was praise for your older brothers.

Typically it would go along the lines of; "Oh, Quinn made captain, you must be so proud!", "Jack and Luke are looking incredible lately, you must be so excited for them!", "Your brothers' are killing it right now, you're so lucky to be related to them!"

Most times you didn't feel very lucky.

That sounds rather harsh, upon reflection. The unmovable truth was that you loved your brothers more than life. They were pivotal parts of your making; indestructible forces ready to care for you and protect you through anything, big or small. They were willing to combat anything to ensure that your smile remained on your face at any given time. They were your older brothers and you couldn't even begin to imagine a world in which they didn't exist, in which they didn't tease, mock and love you.

But sometimes, you just wished people could find it within themselves to separate you from them when the time called for it. Another recurrent theme you've noticed over the last couple of years was that any achievement you made, whether it be academic or simply lying elsewhere, had a tendency to be accidentally overshadowed or overlooked by so many people in your life.

Your Mom and Dad tried their hardest to ensure you the importance of your hard work but sometimes, just sometimes, you had a horrible suspicion that perhaps their support was just out of pity. You were different from your family, everyone knew it and you embraced it. You were the only one out of the entire family to not play hockey beyond your childhood and despite being the youngest, you'd watched your older brothers, even Luke, who was only a year senior, falling even more deeply and madly in love with the sport. You, however, had stepped out onto the ice for the first time as a fresh-faced four-year-old and knew almost instantly that it wasn't the sport for you, but you'd never voiced that feeling until you were eleven.

You could remember that day so vividly, the day when you'd let it slip that you didn't want to play anymore. At the time it had been the most terrifying thing you'd ever thought of doing.

EIGHT YEARS AGO

It was dinner time in the Hughes household and all four kids had jolted at the sound of their parents calling them for dinner. Jack had led the pack in a stampede down the stairs, his fourteen-year-old legs bounding forward to win a race only he was participating in. Twelve-year-old Luke had followed suit, racing towards the dining table, not in competition, but in what he would describe as "starvation like that one ad on TV talked about". Quinn, at sixteen, had long decided he was far more responsible than his younger counterparts and walked down the stairs just a little behind the rowdy pair ahead.

You, at eleven, moved much slower than all of your brothers. You'd had a hockey match that morning in which you'd ended up crashing headfirst into the boards. It hadn't hurt, not with the helmet on your head, but it had been the last straw. Tonight was the night. The night you were going to finally tell your parents that hockey wasn't for you. That the sport was enjoyable but only if you were watching from the sidelines.

Your hands were trembling, your teeth biting down hard on your lip, so hard you thought it might burst any second. You couldn't find it within yourself to stop. It soothed the nerves that had begun to build. Your family loved hockey, they breathed it. You wouldn't be surprised if they all ran tactics and strategy in their dreams.

You walked into the dining room with your shoulders hunched and head bowed as you made your way towards your usual seat between Quinn and Luke. If your brothers had noticed your odd behaviour all day, they hadn't voiced it. You kind of wished they would just so it would get the ball rolling.

Dinner was laid out in front of you almost tauntingly. Tonight's dish was pasta, ever so conveniently shaped in the various shapes of a hockey stick, a helmet, and a skate. Your brothers grinned at the shape of the food, whilst your mom and dad laughed in amusement.

"I found them earlier down in the shop," Ellen Hughes beamed, as she looked amongst her children. "Thought they might make dinner interesting!"

"It does, Mom," Jack grinned in approval as he shovelled a forkful of it into his mouth. You had yet to even pick up your utensil, you just stared at your dish in silence.

"Y/N, honey, is your head hurting from earlier?"

Your mom's voice almost made your straight face slip. You lifted your gaze slightly letting it fall on your mother's worried yet comforting eyes. You opened your mouth slightly but words failed you. You resorted to just shaking your head before looking down.

"Why would her head be hurting?" Quinn questioned defensively, as he looked between you and Mom. You hunched your shoulders further into yourself as the attention on you was now a lasting event.

"She hit the boards earlier, head on," Jim Hughes supplied, swallowing his mouthful of food. He had had the day off and jumped to accompany her to the game. "Hard enough too, but the little soldier got right back up."

You hadn't.

You had laid there for a solid fifty-four seconds brimming with brewing hatred.

"You hit the boards?" Luke snorted, his teasing eyes on your small figure. This was regular joking for the family. They would all mess around and laugh about things that went wrong with anyone, it wasn't out of the ordinary, but tonight?

Oh, tonight this teasing was just piling onto your problem.

"Someone tried to take the puck," Your dad continued mindless of the storm generating inside of you. "It clicked almost immediately for her though and she passed the puck perfectly. All she did was just miscalculate the distance between her standing and the board's closeness, and even then she was fantastic."

Your dad's words should've been comforting. Usually, you would burn with bashfulness at the praise. Your brothers snickered at the image they created of you falling into the boards and before you knew it you could barely hear them. All you could hear was white noise whereas all you could see was vibrant and hot red when you looked down at your plate.

"Sweetheart, when's your next game?" Your mom's kind voice broke through the noise, as she picked up some more food with her fork.

"IWANNAQUITHOCKEY!" You suddenly burst out, causing your family to jump at the volume of your words. Your heart was beating frantically, your hands wringing on your lap. You looked guiltily towards your mom and dad with a nervous gulp.

"Wha' dif' fou 'ay?" Luke asked through a mouth full of pasta, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. For you, the heat in the room rose and engulfed you in fiery waves of nerves as you glanced between your brothers and your parents.

"I want to quit hockey..."

PRESENT DAY

You had remembered the silence that had followed. Your parents ahead exchanged a look as they set down their forks and asked you to explain why. Once you'd begun explaining, you'd burst into tears, all of the pent-up stress and years of pushing yourself to fall in love with the sport only to fail came spilling out.

Your parents had jumped into action at your tearful display and granted the boys permission to finish their dinner in front of the TV in the living room. Once they'd left, your parents had sat down on the empty chairs beside you and immediately began to try to calm you with soothing arm and hair strokes and whispers of "c'mon, steady breaths now, you're okay".

You had continued to sob as you explained all of your feelings over the years. You had even admitted in your bleary state that you were scared your parents wouldn't like you anymore because you didn't like hockey. You had remembered the heartbroken look they'd both given you as they doubtlessly reassured you that no matter what you chose to do at any stage in life, they would forever love you. Your mom had cradled you in her arms, whilst your dad had continued to run his hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself down.

And so, you stopped playing hockey while your brothers only flourished and fell deeper into the depths of adoration for it.

As the years passed your love and knack for academics— notably English and history, encompassed your life and filled you with everything you've ever craved. You threw yourself into your studies, your spare time spent reading books from the library or curled up watching too many David Attenborough nature documentaries for your family's liking.

You thrived in high school managing to maintain a 4.0 GPA. You worked various jobs over the years, from stacking shelves in the local library to making and serving coffee in a cafe near your home. Your mom had once teased that if you hadn't worked and kept out of the house you would've studied yourself to death.

By the time you were a senior, Luke, Jack and Quinn had all been drafted to the NHL and you couldn't have been prouder. You had attended all of their drafts, excitement rolling off of you as you clutched your brothers in such tight hugs they thought they might never breathe quite right again. You were overjoyed that they were able to translate their passion for hockey into the skills needed to succeed and to watch their happiness thrive only made it all the better.

Everything ran so smoothly...that is until people couldn't disassociate you from your brothers. You were thrown into the deep end once all three of your brothers had been picked in the draft. You had been the victim of fake friendships, relationships, and people, in general, trying to be close to you in order to be any inch closer to the famed Hughes boys. Towards the end of high school, their looming presence in almost every conversation agitated you.

It was as if they were the sun, blazing and vital to so many aspects of life. Whereas, you, on the other hand, felt like Pluto in their solar system, small, insignificant and not even important enough to remain a planet.

Nevertheless, you had what you loved within your grasp, it didn't matter what you were in regards to their standings, your talents lay elsewhere and there was no denying it.

You had graduated as Valedictorian with your parents watching proudly in the stands. Quinn had also been there, a pleasant surprise on your half considering he had played a game late the night before. Yet he'd flown home for you, to watch you walk the stage and you had almost giggled in glee. As Luke and Jack on the flip side, had a game the day of your graduation and couldn't miss it. You had reassured them that it was alright (no matter how disappointed and upset it actually made you feel).

After the ceremony, with your diploma in hand, you'd walked towards the stands, your eyes scanning for your parents and brother amongst the buzzing crowds. Conversations swirled with laughter and yelps as students reunited with their families and friends.

"You know that girl–the valedictorian? She's the one whose brothers play for the NHL,"

Your ears had instantaneously perked at the mention, and a heavy, unsettling pit began to form as unease churned in your stomach. You had faltered in your tracks at the words, your ears straining to listen for any other snippets of the conversation.

"Oh, the valedictorian! I thought I saw Quinn Hughes up in the stands, I thought it was my imagination."

Disappointment and what could only be embarrassment had crashed over her as you listened to the conversation continue. They hadn't been able to even remember your name despite it being mentioned more than a few times on the stage, yet of course, they knew your brother, who was one of hundreds in the crowd.

A sudden bout of envy had gripped your heart as you tried to blink away welling tears. This had been your day. Your day. You hadn't worked so hard to be forgotten so easily.

"Angel!" your delighted, yet teary-eyed mom had pushed through the crowd to engulf you in a massive hug. "My baby is all grown up!" You had plastered a smile on your face as you wrapped your arms around her to hold her close.

Your dad was next to be hugged, his big hand had ruffled your hair as he bore a wonky smile and cracked voice whilst telling you how proud he was.

And finally, Quinn had squeezed you to death, his tight grip holding you as he practically spun you around, your feet brushing the floor. You had let a laugh break your moping, as you clutched at your eldest brother's shoulders.

"Your speech was incredible," he mumbled from above you, as your head rested against his shoulder. "I had Luke and Jack on FaceTime the entire time."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you tried to hide your sheepish smile. As you swivelled your head, however, you had spotted not one but three separate people with phones pointed towards you and your brother. Your smile had instantly dropped and you wiggled in his grip until he'd let go, his eyebrows furrowed as you tried to change the topic of conversation.

And just like that the excitement of the day had dimmed.

You loved your brothers but they would always be gods in everyone's eyes. But you'd only ever amount to an Angel— touched by divinity, loved by so many but never quite good enough and absolutely never equal to the power of gods.

The day of your graduation had only been evidence of such. You'd never be able to escape the shadows of your brothers no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you yearned to.

That summer, you fell into a slump of sorts. Your usual cheery smiles and bright eyes had been dulled. You weren't outwardly rude or dismissive but you talked less, participated in family activities less, finding excuses left, right and centre to avoid socialising. Your stack of books that usually were reread every summer lay untouched, covered in a very thin layer of dust. Your family had noticed your change as soon as the slump had started.

They just thought it would go away within a week or so.

Mom had spoken to you too many times to count asking if you were alright and if she could help with anything, you'd simply waved your hand and denied that anything was wrong.

Your brothers had tried too.

Luke had tried to get you to play video games with him, play pool, go to the mall with him, yet you conveniently always had other plans to attend to. Jack had tried to get you to come to the country club and play golf with him, or at least sit in a golf cart reading so that he could talk away with you whilst he played and yet, you refused, claiming you weren't feeling well.

Avoiding Quinn had been the most difficult task. As the eldest and you the youngest, he always felt more protective over you than over your wild other brothers. With five years between each other, Quinn was the one you naturally leaned towards during any inconvenience. He'd been the first you'd called when you'd accidentally gotten drunk off of alcohol-spiked juice at seventeen and had panicked when you couldn't find your friends. He'd stayed on call until your mom had arrived and you were safely tucked inside her car. He'd been the one you'd run to when you were little and had nightmares, and he'd let you bury yourself in his bed covers beside him, with mumbled words of comfort as you shook. He'd been the one who'd refused to leave your side when you'd been bedbound with a bad case of the flu when you were nine, reading stories to you and keeping you company in the solitude of sickness.

He'd been the one you'd tried your hardest to not spend time around because you knew that if he went digging into your out-of-character behaviour, you would break and spill everything in seconds.

Since hockey was in the off-season, you'd seen your brothers more often than not. They'd spent the last month in the same house as you and your parents, it was getting harder and harder for you to continually bypass all of their offers to hang out.

A sudden knock on your bedroom door caused your head to snap towards the door where Luke had sheepishly stuck his head in through the door's gap. You shuffled in your spot underneath the blanket you'd surrounded yourself in as you had curled up on your bed, despite the warmth of the outside air.

"Mom said dinner is on the table," he yawned, before pushing your door open for you to follow and disappearing from the door. You stretched out your limbs, placing your book on your bedside table as you unfurled. Your tired eyes blinked slowly whilst you forced your body to trek downstairs.

Everyone's eyes seemed to follow you as you silently entered the room, not that you noticed as you slunk towards your seat and slumped down into the wooden chair with your head down. You stared blankly at the plate before you looked towards your mom and forced a small smile.

"It looks good, Mom, thanks," you nodded towards your mom before looking back at your plate. Your fingers twirled the fork around as you began to eat slowly. Noticing the growth of an uncomfortable silence, you raised your eyes, only to meet your entire family's gaze. "...what?"

"Y/N, angel, we need to talk," your mom began soothingly, glancing towards your dad almost nervously. Your eyebrows furrowed as you placed your fork down, your hands dropping to your lap.

"About...what exactly?"

"Y/N, what's going on with you?" Your dad suddenly asked, causing your mom to carefully nudge him. "You've been distant, and locking yourself up in your room for the summer."

"I haven't been distant," you denied, pushing yourself further back into the comfort of your seat. You could feel your brothers' eyes piercing you from where they sat.

"That's a lie," Jack scoffed as he swallowed a forkful of food. You shot him a blazing look, your eyes narrowed and as sharp as knives.

"You're not yourself, Y/N," Quinn added cautiously, his eyes flitting around your face to try to gauge your emotions. "You've been making excuses all summer not to spend time with any of us. We miss you, Y/N and...we want to help you, you just gotta let us know what's wrong."

You looked down at your hands as you bit down on your lip to suppress the trembling that threatened to wrack through your body. Luke glanced down at his plate before he leaned forward towards you.

"Y/N, we can help you now, we have the time, hockey doesn't start—"

Don't," your voice seemed unfamiliar to even yourself as iciness weaved its way into your words. "Not now."

"What do you mean?" Luke retorted as he scrunched his eyebrows in bewilderment. "All I said was—"

"Everything has to revolve around hockey." You hadn't meant for the dam to burst and release the waves of frustration and upset but there was no stopping the course it was now paving. "It always has been and always probably will. Every dinner conversation starts the same, every text, every call and I understand why...But life isn't all about hockey."

"I don't..." Luke shook his head and looked towards his brothers for support. His softened and baffled voice filled your heart with a tinge of guilt, but your heart wasn't in control of your words, your mind's bitterness was the one with the reins. "I don't get why that's a problem..?"

"Because you don't realise how out of place it puts me." Your eyes burned with the vicious sting of unshed tears as you began to fall and stumble into a panicked ramble. "And I know I've never said anything about it, but do you know how much of a black sheep I feel like? I mean I chose to give up hockey, I chose to focus my mind elsewhere, so it really has nothing to do with you guys; but when it's constant hockey talk?... I have nothing to say. I have nothing to add, and I feel boxed in...I feel wrong, as if I was some faulty add-on you got landed with."

"You are not faulty, Y/N!" Your mom cut in sharply, her eyes now tinged with sadness.

"Two hundred and three," You bypassed your mom's saddened gaze as you focused on your brothers.

“What?" Jack shrivelled his nose as you spoke.

"Two hundred and three games, ceremonies, and hockey-related events I have attended in order to support you." You explain, whilst your eyes darted from brother to brother. "To support all of you and those are only the ones I can remember."

"Y/N, angel…”

Your dad's calming attempt to soothe you permeated your ramble and only filled you with an indescribable rage.

Always "angel".

Always a goddamn angel.

"Six." You continued, your fists clenched so tightly that the bite of your fingernails embedded deep into your palms. "Six times in my life, you three have managed to make it to an event of mine or ceremony. It goes down to two if you only include events, where all three of you were in attendance."

"The truth is no matter how much I convince myself I'm not an outsider, no matter how much I succeed in life and have every glory at my fingertips, it'll never be enough. No matter the circumstances, people will always find a way to undermine my success to boast about yours. How unfair is that?”

The tears, now unstoppable, rolled down your heated cheeks, leaving a wet trail as your family watched and listened to your cracking voice.

"Every big milestone in my life people twisted it to frame you guys in the foreground. All I wanted was to be great– be so great that, for once, people could separate me from a crowd without it being about my brothers. For years, I got the highest grades, worked locally, tutored, volunteered, and yet my only legacy will be that I have three older brothers whom, to everyone else, I will never measure up to."

"So, after years of trying to ignore the truth and deny it, I realised that there's no possible way I'll ever amount to the Hughes name, I'll never be great and I'll never be able to be like you. And it's...it's a terrifying thought to know you were intended for greatness but destined to fail."

Your tears blurred your vision as a heavy stillness settled over the Hughes family dinner table. Another second passed before regret crashed into your very being and settled amongst the chaos. Your hand flew to your mouth once you'd finished talking, the complete reality of what had happened hitting you full force as your body shook in adrenaline.

"I...I'm," Your horrified eyes scanned the table before you jumped to your feet. "I'm sorry...I'm really...the food was really good, Mom, but I'm, uh...not really hungry anymore." And before anyone could protest you scrambled out of the room, leaving your family to watch you flee.

Anyway, let me know what you think…also part 2 might be coming 🙏

#luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #hughes!sister #Hughes brothers x reader #nhl x reader #x reader #hughes brothers x y/n #boygenius is iconic and I love them #jack hughes x reader #wineauntie #reader is just a girl fr

[kaleldobrev]

Mutual Pining

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean and you are in love with each other, and it's obvious to everyone but the two of you

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing (10x), Mutual Pining, Fluff

Authors Note: Switches between reader and Deans “POV” but still written in the third person | This came out a lot longer than I thought, but I loved the way it turned out! I hope you guys do too! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

For as long as you’ve known Dean, he has always been incredibly nice to you, which initially surprised you given his gruff exterior. Growing up, you were always told to never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and you had felt that this truly applied to Dean. Despite his appearance (although a very attractive one you had to admit) and his very I don’t give a fuck attitude he sometimes gave off, he was genuinely one of the nicest, funniest, charismatic, loving, and selfless people that you have ever met in your entire life. He was just someone that wanted more than anything to love someone (to be loved by someone) – and craved touch.

He was a catch in all senses of the word: he was smart, sexy, cute, he could sing (well not good, but at least he liked doing karaoke!), he could cook and bake (you were teaching him a lot about baking lately, even though he did already know a thing or two), he was handy (both when it came to cars and household maintenance), and he was a nerd (Star Wars, horror movies, Star Trek, cartoons, you name it). For as long as you had known him, it amazed you that someone hadn’t snatched him up yet. Well, you knew about some of these instances (Cassie or Lisa for example), but Dean seemed to be under the impression that the reason it never seemed to work out with these women is because of the job, or he would blame himself. “I just don’t think you found the right woman yet.” You had told him. This had earned you a weird look from Dean, and since then, you hadn’t given your two cents into his love life, despite being one of his closest confidants.

For as long as Dean has known you, you’ve always been incredibly nice to him; even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. When he had met you years ago, it took him by surprise to find out that you were a hunter given your exterior and extremely bubbling personality and positive energy that you radiated (he would later come to start calling you Sunshine as he considered you the light of his life in his ever so present and consistent cloudy days he called his life). “Just because you’re a hunter, doesn’t mean you have to be depressed all the time.” You had said to him. “But we’ve all witnessed and endured horrible things. Don’t know how you can still be so happy.” He had said back to you. You had simply shrugged stating, “You have your way of coping, and I have mine.” What Dean had initially thought that he hated about you (you being that Ray of Sunshine) had actually grown into something that he would love and appreciate about you.

Something that he always tended to carry in the back of his mind is quote that you had frequently said: Never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and he felt that your quote really did apply to you. Despite the type of energy that you give off, and despite your colorful array of clothing, you were genuinely one of the best hunters that he has ever met or worked with in his life.

You were a catch in all senses of the word. You were smart, cunning, funny, cute, sexy (even when you weren’t even remotely trying to be). You knew how to cook and bake (he was particularly fond of your peach and apple pies that you had made), you could sing (despite you saying how awful you were, your voice had sounded like honey to him), and you knew how to shoot a gun almost as good as him (in reality, you were probably a much better shot, but he would never admit that). It amazed him that you hadn’t settled down yet, even though he knew that was something that you had wanted to do at some point in your life. “I guess I just haven’t found the right yet guy. Just like how you haven’t found the right woman yet.” You had told him. “He’s sitting right in front of you Sunshine,” he had desperately wanted to say to you.

It was a lazy Sunday at the Bunker, and since there was no cases you had decided that you were going to do some baking today. You had promised Dean that you would him your famous peach and apple pie sometime this week, and since that was something you promised him last Tuesday, you were getting near close to almost falling through with your promise – something that you didn’t want to do, especially when it came to Dean.

Dean didn’t ask for much. So when he asked ever so politely if you could make this for him adding “no rush of course” at the end of his request, you were more than happy to oblige. This man has saved your ass more times than you could possibly count, and never asked for anything in return. So, the least you could do for the man was bake him a pie right?

Walking into the kitchen you were wearing your comfy clothes which consisted of a very faded AC/DC shirt that Dean had lent you they you had never given back (to be fair, he never asked for it back), a plain hot pink sweatshirt, black sweatpants and hot pink fuzzy socks.

Rolling up your sleeves, you walked over to the cabinet to grab everything they you would need in order to make the pie for Dean. Technically speaking, you were making the pie for everyone to enjoy, but you knew the second Dean for a whiff of the peachy and appley goodness, he would most likely hoard this (not that you had a problem with that, you were happy that he enjoyed your cooking and baking that much).

Placing your phone on the counter, you decided to play some music, picking the playlist you had rightfully named “Baking/Cooking Jams” (pun intended), so the quietness didn’t seem so eerie to you. You didn’t like the quiet at times, but you had such fond memories of singing along and dancing along to the music when you were a little girl in the kitchen with your mom or grandma.

One of the things that you appreciated, was the fact that none of the boys made fun of you while you did this (not that it would have bothered you if they did), but you half expected one of them to say something. The closest any of them had gotten to “making fun” of or commenting on your dance moves or singing had come from Dean, and his comments which very complimentary. You were so thrown off, that at first you thought he was fucking with you.

It’s been almost a week since Dean had requested you make your famous peach and apple pie, and there was a part of him that was starting to get just a tad disappointed when you hadn’t made it yet. But one of the things that was holding him together, was the fact that you always kept your promises and followed through with them (it was one of the things that he loved about you. He had asked for the pie on Tuesday, and it was now Sunday. He had wanted to re-ask you, but decided against it because he didn’t want to seem pushy and he didn’t want to bother you with what he seemed to be a silly request. “You could never bother her Dean. Trust me.” Sam had told him numerous times.

As Dean walked down the hallway of the Bunker, he could hear the quiet sounds of your music coming from the kitchen. The only reason he knew that it was your music is because he recognized the current song that was playing as a part of “Baking/Cooking Jams” playlist (pun intended). He smiled, hoping that since you were listening to this playlist it meant that you were baking something - specifically, baking the pie that you had promised him.

Dean peaked his head into the kitchen and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. You were bopping your head, quietly singing along, and shaking your shoulders to the music as you were lining a tin with your homemade pie crust. You were wearing your hot pink sweatshirt (something that he loved always seeing you wear) and your fuzzy socks (another thing that he secretly loved). Wonder what’s underneath. Hope it’s one of my shirts…or nothing at all…He thought to himself. No Dean, don’t think that way.

Almost as if you could read his mind (which he knew you couldn’t do and was extremely thankful that you couldn’t) you stopped your dancing and looked at him, giving him the biggest smile you could muster up. “Hey you!” Your voice sounded so cheerful, so inviting, it practically made him melt.

“Hey Sunshine.” He said, walking into the kitchen and making his way to the island. “Whatcha making?” He asked, as if he couldn’t tell from the fresh cut apples and peaches on the counter in front of him.

“Your favorite.” You smiled, alternating between placing the peaches and apples into the pie tin. “Sorry it took so long Dean.”

Your apology surprised him. “Why are you saying sorry?” He questioned; you literally had no reason to be apologizing to him right now.

“Well, I know you asked for this Tuesday and it’s Sunday now.” Your voice that was once full of joy, was now sounding almost slightly sad and embarrassed, almost as if you were disappointed in yourself. “I swear I didn’t forget. Got a bit sidetracked with research this week.” You looked down just then, finishing up with the filling.

“Hey.” He began to say and you looked up at him. “Please don’t apologize for something like that okay?” You nodded. “Need any help?”

You shook your head. “I’m good Dean. But thanks for the offer.” You said, placing the pie into the oven.

“It’ll be ready soonish.” You gave him a smile. He could sense that you were trying to go back to your joyful voice, but you seemed still slightly upset, despite you having no reason to be.

Although you said you didn’t need the help, Dean started to gather all of the dirty dishes that you had made while you were baking. “Dean, you don’t have to do that.” You said as you watched him bring all of the dishes into the sink.

He turned the faucet on and looked at you. “It’s the least I can do Y/N.”

“I would have done it.” You walked over to the sink, picking up a dish rag and started drying the dishes he was finished washing. He looked at you briefly before letting out a small chuckle. “What?”

“Sweetheart, no you wouldn’t have. You would have left the dishes in the sink and I would have come to clean them up anyway. I know you love baking and cooking, but you hate the clean up.” You had started to open your mouth to comment, but you knew what he had said to you was the truth. Yes, you didn’t mind doing dishes, but you hated doing a large amount of dishes.

“I see Y/N finally made you your pie.” Sam said, gesturing to the giant slice of pie that Dean came walking into the War Room with.

Dean walked over with the biggest smile on his face. “It’s her best one yet.” Dean said, mouth full of pie. He sat down across from Sam who was on his laptop. “I really do think the singing and dancing helps.”

“I don’t know why you just don’t tell her.” Sam said.

“She knows I like her singing and dancing.” Dean took a mouthful of pie and Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his brother.

“I mean how you feel about her.” Sam’s comment had made Dean stop chewing his pie mid bite before he gulped it down.

Dean went to open his mouth, to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything clever or snarky to say. “I’ll pass.” He decided to say.

“You’ll…pass? What does that even mean?” For as long as Sam had been around you and Dean, it seemed completely obvious to everyone that you two had feelings for each other, but for some reason, it seemed like neither of you understood that you two had feelings for each other.

“I said, I’ll pass.” Dean repeated. “What about that can’t you wrap your head around?”

“Dean, you’ve been in love with Y/N since you’ve met her. Which, honestly, is quite a record.” Sam had never seen his brother be so in love with someone before, let alone being in love with someone for as long as he had been in love with you.

“Look Sam, she doesn’t like me in the way okay? I’ve made my peace with that. Why would I tell her that I love her if she doesn’t feel the same way? Sounds very silly to me.” Dean got up from his chair and walked out of the room with this now empty plate.

You were lying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you researching. You weren’t really researching anything in particular, just random things that had peaked your interest. As you were typing away, a small knock came from the other side of your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s Sam.”

“Come in!” You called back, the door opening and quickly shutting just as fast. You questioned the abruptness of the door. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” Sam replied. He pointed to the edge of your bed. “Can I sit?” You nodded.

“Did you get to try any of the pie yet? Or did Dean finish it already?” You joked, closing your laptop.

“No, not yet. He uh, he didn’t finish it yet shockingly.” Sam’s expression looked at you more serious now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You smiled.

“Have you ever thought about telling Dean how you feel?” His question seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

“I…No.” You had wanted to tell Dean more than anything how you felt about him, but you knew that he didn’t feel the same way about you. “Why would I tell Dean that I love him when I know for a fact that he doesn’t feel the same way? It’s a little silly don’t you think?” Sam couldn’t help but almost let out a laugh. You two really are meant for each other. Sam thought to himself.

“But what if, there actually is a chance that he loves you too?” Sam asked.

You laughed. “Don’t you think he would have told me by now?”

“What if he’s afraid of the same thing you are?”

“Meaning…?” You weren’t completely sure of the point that Sam was trying to make to you.

“Meaning, what if he loves you too but thinks that you don’t love him back?” You furrowed your brow at Sam’s question.

“Dean afraid of telling me how he feels?” You laughed. “He doesn’t love me Sammy, trust me. I know what he looks like when he’s in love, and that ain’t the same way he looks at me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sam challenged.

Dean and you both were laying awake at night, thinking about the comments that Sam had said to the both of you. The both of you had similar thoughts in your minds: Does Dean really love me? Does Y/N really love me? Have I been reading the signals all wrong?

“Sam wouldn’t just bring that up if he didn’t say something right?” You said quietly aloud to yourself.

“Did Y/N say something to him?” Dean said quietly aloud to himself.

“I could easily ask him.” You said.

“No, no. I can’t just ask her.” Dean said.

“Sam’s fucking with me.” You and Dean said in unison.

“No…Sam wouldn’t do that.” You rationalized with yourself.

“No, Sam wouldn’t fuck with me like that.” Dean rationalized with himself.

“He’s literally right down the fucking hall. I could just…be hypothetical?” You questioned.

“It’s three in the morning. She’s probably sleeping.” He said.

“Fuck it.” You two said in unison, both practically jumping out of your beds.

You opened your door and started making your way down the hall. As you were walking, you were trying to keep your composure despite how nervous you were in that moment. “Don’t chicken out now Y/N.” You mumbled.

“Alright. You got this. You got this.” Dean mumbled. “Don’t be a pussy now.”

Your head was down, but just up enough to catch yourself if someone else was in the hallway. As you were walking you noticed Dean coming down the hallway, he seemed nervous and you wondered why.

“Fuck I can’t do this.” You whispered and started turning around back toward your room.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice had made you stop in your tracks, making you turn back toward him.

“Hey.” You tried to make your breath even. “What are…What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replied.

“I asked you first.” You said.

“I…Wanted to talk to you.” He sounded so nervous.

“At three in the morning?” You questioned.

“Yeah I uh…You know what, this can wait till later.” He said, starting to turn back into the direction of his room.

For some reason you had found yourself running after him, like you were in some cheesy romcom that you both secretly loved. “Wait.” You grabbed his arm, and he almost spun back in your direction.

Dean looked at you before looking at your hand. It amazed him each and every time how soft they had felt whenever you touched him. God, what I’d do to feel your hands all over. He thought to himself. “What’s up?”

“Dean…” He watched you take a deep breath. You were nervous and he could tell. He had known you long enough to know what you were feeling by just your body language.

You removed your hand from his arm, and he already missed the contact. “Y/N?” He asked.

“I uh…Can we talk in your room?” You asked, and he found himself automatically nodding.

“Of course.” He gave you a smile, hoping that would comfort you in some way.

You didn’t realize how nervous you truly were until you had made your way into Dean’s room. You had been in his room numerous of times (even spending the night in here) and it always strangely gave you comfort, but not in this moment. It was one of the rare occurrences in which even the calmness his room usually gave you, ceased to help you.

Dean shut the door behind you, something that made you even more nervous. You weren’t afraid that the door was shut, a majority of the time you and him had been in your room or his room, the door was usually shut. “I can, I can leave it open if you want?” He almost questioned, gesturing toward the door.

“No. No. It’s fine.” You said. “Can I…Mind if I sit on your bed?” You asked. It felt strange asking to sit on his bed. In normal circumstances, you would have just walked into his room and just sat down, never asking if you could first. Something that you were now realizing, was that you were the only person that never had to ask if you could sit down on his bed - everyone else had to ask him.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him, in which you hesitantly sat down.

Dean looked into your eyes as you sat down next to him, placing your hands on your thighs. You rubbed them up and down. It kills me to see how nervous you are. He thought to himself, so badly wanting to say it out loud to you. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. It made his heart ache.

“I’m nervous too.” He said, hoping that it would make you somehow less nervous.

“Why are you nervous?” You asked. Crap. How do I answer that? He thought to himself.

“Probably for the same reason you are.” He looked at your face, looking for some kind of hint of what you possibly could be thinking.

“I highly doubt that.” You looked away, and folded your hands as if you were back in school, patiently waiting for the teacher to give you instructions.

It started to seem very evident to Dean now, that you were either nervous because Sam was right - you did in fact love him, or you were nervous because you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him that you didn’t feel the same way that he did about you. Either way, it scared him.

“I…I thought this would be easier somehow.” You admitted, after what seemed like a forever amount of silence between the two of you.

“I feel like I friggin teenager.” Dean joked, you knew he was trying his best to lighten the mood.

“Same here.” You gave him a nervous smile. “Um…Dean…” You took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to tell him, while at the same time, talking yourself out of telling him. “You know you’re my best friend right?”

“You know you’re my best friend right?” There is was, the sentence that he didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah.” He said, feeling his heart quickly sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“And you know I appreciate you more than anything.” You couldn’t even look at him; he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse somehow.

He reached out for your arm, gently grabbing it. “I appreciate you too Sweetheart. And I know I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Don’t be silly. You show me plenty.” Your statement was true, he may not have realized it, but there were plenty of times when he had found himself doing things to show you how much he truly cared and appreciated you, even when he didn’t outright tell you - you were the same way. You sighed. “Dean –”

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that whatever you say to me, our friendship is never gonna change. I won’t hate you. I could never hate you, okay?” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you, or reassure himself in that moment.

“Here it goes then.” You took yet another deep breath.

“Fuck it.” You heard Dean mumble. Not even getting a second to react, his lips were suddenly on yours. His lips were just as soft as you had thought that they would be. Despite wanting to kiss him for as long as you had known him, you never thought that this is how your first kiss with him was going to go.

The kiss was quick, and not nearly as long as you had wanted it to be. He released his lips from yours and he stared at you blankly, almost embarrassed. “Sorry.” Dean said. “I uh…” He was actually speechless. “Shit.” He let go of your arms.

“Sammy was right.” He hears you mumble.

“What did my brother tell you?” He needed to know how badly the damage control was going to be, and how much he was going to kill his brother.

“He…He asked me if I um…If I ever thought about telling you how I feel.” So Sammy got to you too huh, Dean thought. “I told him that it would be silly of me to tell you how I felt because I knew you didn’t feel the same way.” You chuckled, nervously. “I guess…I guess I was wrong.”

“I told Sammy the same thing earlier.” He admitted. “As much as I wanted to tell you…” He trailed off, unsure of what he had wanted to say next, because there was so much he had wanted to say to you.

“You didn’t want to ruin our friendship in case I didn’t feel the same way.” You said, practically finishing his sentence for him. “I felt the same way. I mean, you know just as well as I do how hard it is to find people you can trust and rely on. I love both of you, and I didn’t want to say or do anything that would of fucked my relationship up with you guys.”

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, unsure of what was going to happen next. Just because the two of you had admitted your feelings for each other, doesn’t mean that you would actually do anything about it. As much as you had wanted to try out a relationship with Dean, you knew that he wasn’t much of the relationship type – then again, maybe it was because he hadn’t found the right person?

Dean looked over at the clock, noticing that it was almost 4:30 in the morning. He looked back over to you, almost looking too tired. “You spend the night in here with me. Or, morning in here with me.”

“And do what Dean?” You asked, curious as there could be a million things on his mind.

“Just lay here together…” He began to say, slightly pulling you in close. “Maybe cuddle…” He continued, leaning in slightly, inches away from your lips.

“Do some more kissing maybe…?” You whispered, slightly questioning. “Or are you too tired?”

“Hmmm, don’t think I’d ever be tired enough to not kiss you Sunshine.” He smiled tiredly, leaning in and kissing you again.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you would like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #reader insert #female reader #mutual pining the fanfic #dean x you #dean x reader

[adnauseum11]

First Aid Kit (John Price x Reader)

You return home after a trying Christmas.

1.3k words

CW: none

Feedback welcome!

While not explicitly written for @glitterypirateduck O' Captain Challenge it does fit the criteria. For more John Price deliciousness check out the other works submitted!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is also pinned to my blog.

Ao3

O, Captain Challenge

Masterlist

You realize Christmas with your brother and his growing family is a mistake approximately a day after you arrive. There’s only sixteen months between the two of you, but with your parents gone, you’ve slowly been drifting apart. You hadn’t actually spoken to him in weeks, life being too chaotic, but when you called on Christmas Eve and said you wanted to come for Christmas (desperate not to be alone) he had dutifully accepted and agreed to make the guest room up.

At first, your adorable three-year-old nephew is a welcome disruption from your misery. Seeing him rip open presents and make a joyful mess around the tree was heartwarming to say the least. But watching your normally annoying brother loving on his pregnant wife had only made you miss John more. Somewhere along the line you had gotten used to John always having a hand on you, or being nearby, and the way you had turned away from him before he left was haunting you. Your brain kept whispering agonizing things. What if that was the last time you saw him? Anxiety is a ball in your stomach you can’t seem to shift, no matter the distraction. You had gone to bed with a heavy and bruised heart and a thin smile pasted on your face the first night. The second night brought a familiar text from John, and all the conflicted emotions you tried to put off came roaring back with it.

JP: Back here.

JP: Where are you?

JP: What’s going on love?

Stewing on what to do about John drains you. You don’t answer the texts, opting to try for sleep instead, knowing he can see you’ve read them. It feels childish, a tit for tat situation, but you know it will drive him crazy to be left without a reply. You exact some small revenge where you can.

You decide to lie to your brother and say you are being recalled to your nonexistent job as you lay awake, listening to the bangs and crashes of the household waking the following morning. Everything is too raw to explain, especially as you had never actually gotten around to telling your brother about the shift in yours and John’s relationship – never mind the rest of it. It is too much to get in to, and the wrong time to bring it up.

With John back, the itch to get home is tempered by the argument left hanging, gnawing away at you. You are too distracted and anxious to even pretend at happy family now. Your brother, who grumbles about driving you back to the railway, mercifully doesn’t otherwise question the departure that is as sudden as your arrival.

Your anxiety further ramps up when you see John’s car parked at the flat when the Uber drops you off. You had expected him to be away longer than a few days given the urgent nature of his departure. You can feel your heart fluttering in your throat, excitement at his return mixing with nerves, unsure what is waiting for you as you walk up to the front door. His rucksack still leaning in the front entrance is the first thing to greet you, making you frown. It’s unlike John to leave his stuff laying around. You toe off your boots and call for him, instinctually heading towards the bedroom to drop your bag. The lights are off in the room but there is still daylight coming in through the gauzy curtains over the windows, making John’s big body in the centre of the bed easily visible. You recognize your IDAHO shirt, draped over his eyes and realize he’s got another migraine.

“John?”

You try again, bumping your thighs against the mattress, your heart feeling too large for your chest and impossibly tender as you drop your bag.

“Darling?”

John jerks upright, yanking the shirt off his face, his intense blue eyes bloodshot and squinting against the throbbing behind them.

“Are you alright?”

You’re reaching across to push against his shoulder, trying to settle him back against the mattress but he’s resisting, searching your face for something. He looks awful, his eyes sunken with exhaustion and pain, his normally sharp blue eyes red, and eyelids slightly swollen. His hair is matted to his head with dried sweat at his temples and his normally neatly trimmed facial hair is overgrown. He’s clearly slept in his clothes, his shirt and jeans rumpled. Your heart lurches, your instinct to soothe overwhelming your anger. Right up until John opens his mouth.

“Was going to ask you the same thing, you scared the shit out of me when you weren’t here.”

He’s accusatory, his narrowed eyes piercing.

“John, I told you I didn’t want to be alone for Christmas! I went to see my brother!”  

Only John could summon the energy to fight with you while feeling dreadful, and it concerns you as much as it does annoy you.

“Could have left a note or sent a text, love, I would have gotten it when I was back.”

He’s stubborn, his brows drawing together but he finally physically relents, letting you press him back against the pillows. Annoyingly, he’s not wrong and arguing is only going to wind him up when he’s already suffering.

“Yes, I should have.”

You agree, flummoxing him into silence and you take the opportunity to swipe your palm over his fevered forehead gently, closing his eyes again in the process. He blindly follows your touch, his hand capturing your wrist. Your heart gives a kick when you glimpse the bandage around his forearm.

“Darling – “

John’s voice sounds thick with emotion and your chest clenches tightly in response. You find yourself sitting on the bed beside him, shushing him before he can speak any further.

“Let’s talk when you’re feeling better, hot stuff.”

“Will you stay with me?”

He’s plaintive now, his own annoyance taking a backseat for the moment. It reminds you of when you were younger and he would try to wheedle you into staying for another pint. And then another. The sincerity gets you every time.

“Of course, I’m not going to leave you like this.”

The deep sigh of relief that escapes John would make you smile if you weren’t feeling so fragile. Instead, you smooth his hair down, stroking the crown of his head. You can’t stop watching his face, mapping any sign of pain or discomfort. He seems content to let you lightly run your hands over his face and head, his hands settling back in the blankets.

“Do you want anything?”

“No. Just you.”

This time you do manage a small smile, the motion forcing the water gathering on your bottom lashes down your cheeks.

“I missed you, you wretched man.”

Your words are just as wet as your cheeks, hiding nothing from John even with his eyes closed. He wraps his hand around your wrist and kisses your palm, whispering something against your flesh before returning your hand to his cheek. You can’t help but stroke his wiry facial hair, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek gently. You replace your soft and well-worn t-shirt over his eyes, soothing him further. Gently you return to stroking his hair, massaging his scalp intermittently until your fingers ache and John’s finally in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and measured.

You wait until he’s out cold before shimmying out of bed to unpack your bag and shower, leaving the door open so you can hear if he wakes and calls for you. Seeing John in obvious pain activates some primal part of you, the urge to tend to him nearly overwhelming. It’s an odd sensation, especially after days spent conflicted about his actions. You spend the entire shower mulling over the situation, half your awareness directed towards the bedroom. Without allowing yourself to think too deeply any further, you give in to your impulse and forgo dinner to crawl back in beside John’s sleeping form, tucking yourself against his side with a sigh. Sleep comes easily, even at the early hour, the warmth of John’s big body bleeding through your relaxed limbs.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites

#fanfic #john price x reader #john price #john price x f!reader #friends to lovers #john price x you #john price cod #captain price #captain john price #call of duty #fanfiction #cod fanfic #o captain my captain #ocaptainchallenge #captain john price x reader

[froggyfics]

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 6

Conflict arises within the Al Ghul household.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with DC Comics.

Sincerely appreciate you guys for leaving comments and messages about my writing! Your interactions definitely push me to complete my work. Thank you for your patience.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: LOA!medieval!Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,780

Warnings: misogyny?, smut, p in v penetration, oral sex

The Wayne Manor, in all its glory, is quite ordinary. 

Yes, it is perhaps the most magnificent building in all of Gotham – but if you look closely enough, there are little quirks that can only be seen in homes that have been lived in. 

Little chips on the doorframe showed its perpetual use. The floorboards creaked due to constant footsteps. The stained windows were discolored to divulge their age.

The manor gave off a completely different aura when compared to the Al Ghul Castle. The castle was built primarily for defense purposes and was not meant to be lived in. Its bloody history was obvious with its moat, drawbridges, and arrow slits.

Maybe that’s why you instantly felt more at ease at the manor. This was a home. It had no nefarious purpose. Even if the castle was purged of its malignant occupants (namely Talia), it could not erase its bloody history. 

With that being said, you could not say that you were completely comfortable at the manor. 

“How can I make you feel more at home?” Alfred inquires.

You’re not entirely sure how to answer his question. Maybe he could send word for your family to come to the manor instead of staying at the castle. 

You push the idea to the back of your mind almost immediately after thinking it. Your family hasn’t really been acting like your kin since you’ve arrived in the capital. They’re simply too busy schmoozing to notice your plight. After all, you are their ticket to the upper echelon. Damian had you leave the castle so hurriedly that you did not even have the chance to seek them out to say farewell. You doubt they’d care about your absence anyways.

“Where’s Damian?” 

“He’s still speaking with his father. I can have him come to your room as soon as he finishes his discussion.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

Alfred bows before exiting the room. “Your highness.”

You let out a melancholic sigh while plopping on your bed. The absolute silence that surrounds you deafens your ears. The peacefulness reminds you that this is the first time in a long time that you had to yourself. 

Your ladies-in-waiting are out familiarizing themselves with the manor. Rachel returned to her own home, promising to follow you to manor after she packed her own belongings. Alice, your personal servant, is acquainting herself with the servants’ quarters. 

Talia is not breathing down your neck. Your mother is no longer nit-picking at your appearance. Your father is not here to remind you of your dimwittedness. Your older brother is not hounding you to convince your in-laws to give him a council seat. 

It's just you. After so much time surrounded by others, wishing for some alone time, you’re suddenly dumbfounded. How were you able to entertain yourself before him – before Damian?

The embroidery hoop sits longingly in your open chest. Your needlework was in sore need of improvement you realized after moving to Gotham. After all, the noblewoman here had no household chores to take up their time, thereby leaving them experts at embroidery. 

You sit down on a sturdy wooden chair. It’s easy for you to distract yourself in the work that you’re doing. All that there is to distract you are the crackling of the candles and the occasional prick of the needle. 

You nearly fall out of the chair in terror when the door opens suddenly. Your ladies-in-waiting come barging in, talking amongst themselves merrily until they notice you. Their faces sour. 

“C’mere, your highness,” Matilda sneers. “Time for bed.”

A sigh escapes your lips before you can control it. Surely, you cannot be treated this way! After all, you’re a princess now!

Alas, you scurry to Matilda and turn your back towards her. Of course, you can wish for a spine all you’d like, but you’d never stand up to her. Or to Honora. Or Joan. Or Talia. You’re…you. A princess, but you were born among the lowest of aristocrats. Just a generation prior, your family were peasants! Matilda, Joan, and Honora all came from distinguished dynasties that far surpassed your own. 

“Ouch!” You tried with all your might to keep quiet while Matilda yanks you about, but when her nails scratch against your back, you can’t help but let out a screech.

“Oh, hush now!”

“You’re – hurting me.”

Matilda remains quiet and you step out of your dress after it pools at your feet. The fireplace keeps the room warm, but the hostility in the air increases the temperature. She tugs the nightgown over your head rudely. 

“I suppose I’ll stay the night with the princess.” Honora points to the feather mattress near the bed. 

Matilda and Joan nod their heads and curtsy towards you.

“Now, is there anything else you’d like for us to do before we retire for the night, your highness?” Joan’s voice is sickly sweet, but at this point, you know her words are laced with venom.

“No, thank you. You are dismissed. Have a nice night.”

They snicker in each other’s ears and walk towards the door, while Honora looks longingly at them. Joan opens the bedroom door and gasps at the sight. 

“Your highness!”

Damian leisurely strides into the room with his hands behind his back like a soldier. The occupants of the room immediately bow in respect, including you. 

So much time had passed from when you told Alfred to call for Damian, that you didn’t think he’d actually come to see you. But here he was! In your room. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him. You didn’t remember why you asked Alfred to send Damian to you in the first place.

He clears his throat and looks around the room. His gaze lands on your discarded embroidery hoop atop your dresser. He picks it up to examine the half-finished red carnation on the fabric. Your entire body heats up in embarrassment. In your lonely haze, you barely recalled poking the red and green thread through the linen fabric. It meant nothing. Damian catches your gaze, and you hope to communicate silently that it meant nothing to you. Boredom took over and flowers were a common item to embroider. It meant nothing. You weren’t thinking about him then, and you certainly didn’t care that he was standing in front of you now. 

“You lot are dismissed for now.”

The ladies scamper out of the room immediately as Damian’s command leaves his lips. No back talk. No snide comment. If only they respected you half as much as they respected him, your day-to-day life would become so much smoother.

“Alfred mentioned that you called upon me.”

Your eye twitches. “Only to say goodnight.” You stare at him until it becomes uncomfortable. “So, goodnight.”

You turn around to get under the warmth of your covers. You pull the coverlet and bedsheet out as calmly as you can, even though a combination of anger and embarrassment courses through you. 

You want to lie back down fully, but Damian remains standing in place. 

“Can you please call my lady-in-waiting in here?”

“No.”

“No?” you scoff. “Why not?”

“We’re having a conversation, that’s why.”

“No, we’re not,” you huff. “I have had quite a tumultuous day. If you’ll excuse me, I will retire for the night.”

“You are angry with me.”

You scowl, but say nothing in return. You are angry. In fact, you are irate. Your marriage has just begun, and you already want to escape. 

“I’ve spoken with my father,” Damian interrupts the silence. “We will be staying here, at Wayne Manor. The castle is not the place for us.”

He exhales loudly when you do not respond. You are looking down at your coverlet, but can sense his movements closing in on you. He tediously sits on the farthest possible corner of the bed.

You shake your head in disbelief and face him with a glare on your face. “I do not bite, your highness, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

His smile momentarily catches you off-guard, but his chuckles reignite your anger. “You look like you will,” he responds once he notices your fury. His attempt at easing the tension does not work.

“I truly apologize for what my mother said to you. It was not…appropriate to say the least. Here at the manor, I can assure you that no one will question our marital bed like she did.”

“Tell that to my ladies-in-waiting. You do know that they are your mother’s spies, right? They’ll report everything to her.”

He shrugs. “I have been known to keep a loyal household.” He winks at you. “I have my ways.”

You simply can’t stand it. He’s being so…friendly. It irks you.

“Thank you, your highness. T’is late. I will not keep you up.” 

Your attempt to dismiss Damian is ignored. He tuts and closes the distance between you two. His new position is right at your side. His thigh touches your own, with just sheets of fabric separating the two of you.

“You’re angry with me,” he repeats.

“What’s it to you?” You do your best to keep your voice steady. “It’s not like you care.”

“Of course, I do. Of course, I care.”

A humorless laugh escapes your throat. “I’m not stupid. I have not grown up with your fancy tutors or privileged background, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stu –”

“You don’t have to say it for me to know that you and everyone else think it!” you nearly shout. “Your highness –”

“We’ve been over this.” He rubs his forehead. “You are my wife. Refer to me as husband or Damian –”

“I am not your wife!” It’s unintentional, but some of your spit lands on his face. You fight to get the covers off of you, jumping out of bed. You can only stomp a few steps away from Damian before his arm grabs your bicep.

You’re pulled back towards him and he swivels you around to face him once again.

“I am not your wife!” you repeat.

“What are you going on about, woman?” His own anger is evident due to the bulging vein on his neck. “Have you hit your head and lost your memory already?”

You speak through gritted teeth. “Your highness, I am not sure why you have roped me into your lies, but clearly there is another motive behind our so-called marriage.” You rip yourself from his hands, and point at him menacingly. “I don’t think I care to know why you have lied to me, but just know I’m onto you. You cannot deceive me. I know that we are in a sham marriage.”

Damian’s eyes nearly transform to coal black, the green is no longer visible. You slowly drop your accusatory finger, mentally kicking yourself for your tantrum. His disposition is quite fearsome, you realize. You were admittedly terrified of Prince Damian, who comes from a long line of terrifying and tyrannical ancestors. 

“Careful there, woman,” he taunts. “You are speaking to your prince.”

“I thought you were just my husband,” you sneer before you realize what you said. You clamp your mouth shut.

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Same difference. Do you need reminding?”

Well, now you’ve done it. You were going to be beheaded come sunrise, weren’t you? Why couldn’t you have just shut up? Why did you have to believe the lies he said in the garden? Who cares, he’s a man – they all lie. What difference does it make that your man joins in the age-old tradition of lying?

Damian waits expectantly for some sort of response from you, while your mind races. 

“No…husband.”

Damian smiles, but you can tell it’s the coldblooded kind. He takes one step, then another, and then one more until he’s toe-to-toe with you. 

You look up meekly at your prince. He towers over you and it dawns on you just how precarious your situation is. It has been just a day since you’ve married. The marriage could easily be annulled, especially at Damian’s behest. You are replaceable. There are countless others you would kill to be the heir’s wife.

And who could replace Damian? Quite literally, no one. Your family would forever be disgraced. No one would want to interact with the family of the heir’s former wife. It would be an embarrassment. Not to mention, you would forever be the laughingstock of the kingdom. The day-old princess. 

He cups your face, and his thumbs brush your hot cheeks. His other fingers grip the back of your neck, nearly painfully so. “Well, I think you do.”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he plants his lips on your forehead. They travel to your nose before one hand shifts the collar of your nightgown.

“Admittedly, t’is my fault.” He suckles the tender skin at the base of your neck. “I have not truly turned you into a wife yet.” The implications of his words make you shiver, along with the wet kisses he leaves up and down your neck. His actions leave you in shock. This was not the way you expected to be…punished? Reprimanded? You’re not sure what exactly Damian is planning.

He kisses the pulsing point in your neck and the sensitivity nearly makes your moan. You bite your lip in retaliation, but of course, he notices it. 

You want to retort, but his thumb rubs against your nipple. You breathe out heavily as he continues his ministrations, your fiery attitude withers away as your nipple hardens under his touch. 

His hands slowly make their way to your hips and he grabs them firmly to guide you in the direction of the bed. 

You yelp when he pushes you onto the bed roughly, nearly landing completely on your back, but you catch yourself by your arms. You watch in utter curiosity as Damian rolls your nightgown over your knees, exposing you the warm chill of the room. He bites his lip lewdly and sinks to his knees.

You yelp again when he pulls you closer to the edge by the ankles. 

“You can watch if you want.” He gives you wet kisses from your ankle till your inner thigh. When he reaches your thigh, you attempt to close your legs around his head. It’s simply too sensitive. 

He pushes your knees apart and begins the cycle again on the other leg. This time, when he reaches your inner thigh, he takes hold of your legs and spreads them as far apart as he can. 

You squirm and squirm as he continues kissing your inner thighs.

“Damian,” you whimper.

“The lioness suddenly cannot seem to roar, only mewl,” he teases.

You can feel his hot breath on your innermost parts. The intimacy of the situation makes you grip the bed, but once he latches onto you, your hands cramp in the air.

“Oh! Ooh! Oh.” You moan loudly while he deliciously eats you out. His tongue sloppily latches onto your sensitive nub, but he occasionally leaves you long, languid licks on the entire region.

His hand snakes up your body, shirking your nightgown up until it’s over your shirt. He tweaks your nipples, and you can feel your abdomen tightening in response. 

You can feel the cooling wetness when Damian finally releases his hold on your clitoris. You want to mourn the absence of his tongue, but the mourning period ends as quickly as it began when he starts to rub his thumb in firm, circular motions.

There are so many sensations happening simultaneously. His thumb on your clit. His rough shirt agitating your nipples. Wet kisses on your neck. His fingers occasionally swiping the wetness leaking from your hole and spreading it around. You couldn’t stop the tide even if you wanted to.

The only thing to hold onto is his biceps. It starts in small waves. A strange feeling arises in you, but you don’t want it to stop. It roils in faster and faster peaks. You bite your lip in anticipation. When it finally arrives, a sound escapes your throat that has never come out before. Your muscles contract as you reach your peak. 

Damian’s lips leave your neck to latch onto your mouth. You moan into his mouth as the feeling rides itself out. It’s so overwhelming that all modesty flies out the window. You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care how you must look. All that surrounds you is the pleasure that Damian extracted from you. 

The kiss you share is unlike the one from the day before at your wedding. Your wedding kiss was short and sour. This one is long and sensual. 

You don’t want the kiss to end, but Damian takes the initiative to pull back. He maintains eye contact with you while he removes his tunic and pants. You obscenely take in the sight of his defined abs and strong muscles, but you stop once your eyes meet his hardened member.

You jump slightly when he suddenly spits on it. His hand moves up and down to spread his saliva around. The sight is so lewd that you turn your head to avoid it.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, beloved.”

His words force you to look once more at him. His pushes your shoulders down to where you lay flat on the bed. You crane your neck to at least look at what he’s doing. He holds your neck up with his hand to give you a better view once he realizes what you’re trying to do. 

He pokes at your entrance. “Beloved, breathe for me.”

You have no choice but to follow the instructions of the man that just had his face in between your thighs moments ago. You inhale, then exhale, and repeat the process.

The pain halts your breath. You hiss as the head of his penis is thrust into you. He shallowly inserts the tip in and out, and leans down to pepper your face with light kisses. Slowly but surely, your hiss turns into a whimper. In response, he thrusts deeper and deeper. He whispers tenderly into your ear.

“You feel amazing, my love.”

“This is what I should have done last night.”

“I am all yours.”

You don’t even realize you’ve shed a tear until he swipes it away. The gentleness of the moment wipes away the last month from your memory. All that exists is here and now.

It hurts, but there’s an equal amount of pleasure licking behind the pain. Damian’s ever-increasing groans only add to your own desire. He impales you with every thrust, but he does so as slowly as possible. You can tell he could be rougher if he wanted, as evident by his muscular figure. 

He leans his forehead onto your own, and closes his eyes. You keep yours open to watch him pant. There’s a glow on his skin that highlights every handsome feature about him. 

His breathing becomes erratic and so do his thrusts. His grunts are nearly animalistic until finally he groans loudly in delight. You can feel a gush of wetness around your entrance as he lazily thrusts himself in and out of you. He stills himself inside of you at last before practically crushing you under his weight.

You can hardly breathe under the pressure and feebly push upwards against his chest with your hands that are trapped under him. He pulls out of you completely and rolls over to your side, still panting heavily. 

He shifts you onto your side to face him and pecks your entire face with light kisses. You giggle at his show of affection, wishing that he would never stop. 

But he does. Everything good must come to an end. With one final peck on your lips, he rubs his hands up and down your back before getting up from the bed. The warmth of his body escapes you and you find yourself quite cold suddenly. The fireplace still burns brightly, but Damian’s touch provided a fiery heat that could not be replicated through any other means. 

Once he’s finally dressed, he leans down to give you a passionate kiss. You return the affection to the best of your naïve ability. 

“Our marriage is now officially sealed. Do you feel like our union is a sham still?”

You squirm in embarrassment. You recall the argument that preceded your intimate counter, but shame overcomes you at the way you behaved. 

You nod your head in response. “I apologize, Damian. This past month has just been a whirlwind for me.”

He gazes at you while tying his pants tight. “I understand.” He reaches down and kisses your knuckles, like he did when you first arrived in Gotham. “Goodnight, beloved.”

He strides towards the exit. “Damian, will we spend any time together tomorrow? I’d love a tour of the manor with you as my guide.”

“I don’t think that is possible. I’ll be very busy.” He attempts to walk away, but is stopped by your questioning again.  

“Can we at least have dinner together?” He doesn’t turn to face you entirely, but he does tilt his head in your direction. 

“Would that make you happy?” he finally says.

“Yes,” you immediately answer. You wanted what just happened to continue to happen. Not necessarily the sex, although that was a definitive plus, but the closeness. 

You felt so much closer to Damian within just a night of emotional intimacy that your negative memories of him from the past month shift towards the back of your head. Every kiss he gave you tonight replaced every snide comment made in your direction, the loneliness you felt, and the confusion regarding your relationship status.

“Then, we shall have dinner.” With that, he leaves the room, leaving you bare on the bed. 

His absence makes the pain and soreness in your abdomen and genitals evident. You clutch your belly in an attempt to soothe the cramps away.

Your door bursts open. You scramble to cover yourself with something, with anything, but it’s too late.

Honora glares at you as she makes her way towards the bed. The best you can do in your fumbled state is cover yourself with your arms and make yourself as small as possible. 

She looks you over, and then at the red and transparent stains on the coverlet. 

“Get off the bed,” she snaps. She exits the room and returns a few moments later with two servant girls.

“Hurry up,” she barks at the servants as they scurry to change to the sheets. “I’d like to get some sleep before the sun rises.”

#dc comics #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x y/n #league of assassins #loa!damian wayne #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #medieval!Damian Wayne

[weareapackofstrays]

A New Kind of Love: Chapter II

Genre: Non-Idol college au, slight enemies to lovers (more like they annoy e/o at the start), friends with benefits, smut, angst, romance, drama

Pairing: Minho x F!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Cigarette Smoking, Mention of Weed, Nonconsensual touching, Cussing, Spanking, Rough Sex, Physical Violence (Minho punches a guy), Degradation, Reader is a bit of a brat. Let me know if I forgot anything! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 2,979

Summary: You didn't grow up with great examples of love. Your parents were always at each other's throats. As a result, you have struggled with expressing your true feelings and can come off cold or defensive. After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you during freshman year with your childhood best friend, you decide to swear off love for good. Now in your second year of college, you move into the basement apartment of a house full of college boys. Inevitably crossing paths with one of them, Minho quickly gets under your skin in more ways than one. Despite your differences, you can't stay away from him.

A/N: I struggled a little with this chapter compared to the others I finished. Sorry if it's not great. Also, to spare my anxiety, I’m going to refrain from creating deadlines since this story has expanded from what it was originally meant to be (a one shot lol). I will have part three out as soon as I can. Again, any feedback/thoughts are welcome!

Chapter II: Keep Your Voice Down Prev | Next

A ringtone jolts you awake. Blearily, you look around your bedroom for the source. Stumbling, you reach for the discarded purse on the floor and fish out your mobile. Squinting at the bright light, you see the name Baddest Bitch 🎀 flash across the screen. You slide to answer.

“Hello,” your voice sounds rough. 

“Bitch, did you really just ditch me last night?” Your best friend, Yuqi, shouts through the phone. You move it a few inches from your face before speaking.

“What are you talking about?”

“I went to find you and you were gone.”

You take a moment to recall the party, the memories slowly coming back. “Wait, didn’t you ditch me last night for some guy?”

“I mean, yeah, but-” you cut her off.

“Look I am super hung over right now and desperately need a shower. Can you save your scolding for later?”

“Sure, I’m going to head to the diner. Meet you there?” You look at your phone to see the time. 

“I can be there in like, 30 minutes?”

“See you!”

“Bye.” You hang up the phone and very slowly make your way to the shower. 

The warm water feels like heaven cleansing away all sins from last night. While washing your hair, you suddenly remember meeting your neighbor, Minho. You struggle to remember the conversation. Was I that wasted? You can only recall that he was a bit of a dick. Shaking your head, you erase him from your mind.

Dressed comfortably in jeans and a black turtleneck, you grab your long coat and keys before heading out the door. You pause to take out your sunglasses as the sun hits. As you round the corner, Minho spots you from the porch and greets you.

“Good morning!” You jump out of your skin, nearly dropping your phone. You look up to see Minho leaning over the railing smiling at you.

“How’d you sleep, princess?” Minho’s cheeriness makes your brain hurt.

“Can you keep it down? It’s like 10 in the morning. Chill.” The sun shines right into Minho’s chocolatey eyes and you can see every variation of brown in his irises. They’re stunning. 

“Not feeling so well, huh?” You’re completely flabbergasted by his presence.

“How long have you been waiting there for me?”

Minho doesn’t expect you to ask. “Not…long.” He looks down at his hands and picks at some invisible dirt under his nails. Jisung appears behind him and slaps Minho on the back. He falls forward with an oomph from the force.

“Hey Hyung!” Jisung looks over Minho’s shoulder and sees you.

“Oh! Morning, Y/n!” His gummy smile on full display. 

“Is your whole household on uppers or something?” Placing your sunglasses on top of your head, you look around questioning if this is the twilight zone. Jisung takes in your appearance and notices how tired you look.

“Rough night?” he asks with a wince.

“Something like that,” you give Minho a pointed look. 

“Where you headed?” Minho asks.

“Coffee. Meeting a friend.”

Jisung slaps Minho on the back again. “Well, that is perfect!” Minho stands up straight and looks at Jisung angrily. The younger boy ignores him and continues, “We were just about to head that way. Want some company?” 

“Oh, um-,” the boys don’t give you a chance to answer, instead joining you on the sidewalk. Jisung loops his arm into yours.

“가자”

“What?”

“He means let’s go,” Minho answers for Jisung. 

“Okay, then, Ka-cha, I guess,” you try to repeat back. Minho and Jisung smile at your attempt.

You arrive at the diner and see Yuqi in your usual booth. She spots you and waves. Pulling you into a hug, she notices two guys standing awkwardly behind you and releases you.

“Uh, did you adopt some strays on the way here?” Jisung takes in the sight of your best friend and stares at her with big heart eyes, his mouth slightly agape. You notice Jisung’s expression and giggle.

“Jisung, Minho, this is Yuqi. Yuqi, Jisung, Minho.” You gesture to each person to make introductions. Minho leans in to shake Yuqi’s hand, but Jisung jumps in front of him, taking hold of her instead.

“Hi, I’m Jisung,” he practically shouts.

Yuqi flashes both boys a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” She points for the two of them to sit down. Jisung eagerly takes the spot next to Yuqi leaving you and Minho on the other side of the booth.

“So how do you three know each other?” Yuqi asks.

“They live above me.”

“Do they now?” Yuqi gives you a flirty look that you refuse to entertain. 

After placing your orders, conversation flows easily between the four of you. 

“And what about you two? How do you know each other?” Yuqi motions between Jisung and Minho.

Jisung smiles and says, “We met in high school. He punched a guy who was bullying me. He’s basically my soulmate, isn’t that right 자기?”

“Shut up, Ji.” Minho laughs.

You look at Minho, “Ja-gi?”

“It means something like darling.”

“I see.”

“He’s just joking though,” Minho shrugs unconvincingly. 

“What are you talking about, 자기? Don’t lie to them!” Jisung pouts, making Yuqi laugh. 

He’s not one to go out of his way to connect with people, but he’d practically been taken hostage by Jisung and Felix. Whether it was Stockholm Syndrome or the balls of sunshine finally wearing him down, they eventually became his closest friends. Through Jisung he met Chris and Changbin. As a dance major he met Hyunjin who eventually introduced him to Jeongin and Seungmin. Minho grew up often feeling alone. His gruff personality could rub people the wrong way, but for whatever reason, his seven friends held onto him making him feel a part of something. A family.

Minho changes the subject and turns to speak to you, leaving Yuqi and Jisung to chat alone.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, actually. A lot better.”

“Good.” He fiddles with his coffee cup as a comfortable silence falls over the two of you. You both smile watching your friends across the table flirt.

“Those two seem to be getting along.” Minho says quietly as he takes a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.” Right on cue, your friends laugh at something amusing on Jisung’s phone. 

“You two close?” You look away from your friend to Minho.

“We are. I guess you could say she’s my Jagi.” Minho smiles at that.

“Was she at the same party as you last night?”

You lean back into the booth and nod, “She was.”

“She seems to be in better shape than you were this morning.”

“Yuqi doesn’t drink.” 

Minho nods. “So that makes you the drinker?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I’m kidding,” he says quickly to diffuse you.

“Is this fun for you?” Too late. 

“What?”

“Getting under my skin.” 

“Don’t make it so easy then.” He says teasingly, but you don’t take the joke.

“Dude, I just met you like yesterday.” 

“Why are you getting so mad? I was just joking. Relax.”

“Relax?”

He throws his hands in the air, defeated. “Why do you make it impossible to get to know you?”

You scoff and stand up. “Yuqi, we’re leaving.”

Yuqi looks away from Jisung, the two of them completely oblivious to your disagreement with Minho. 

“Right now?”

Minho leans back into the booth and crosses his arms. 

“Yes, come on.” You stand up from the booth and reach out for your friend’s hand. 

She looks at Jisung before reluctantly taking your hand. “Okay.” She waves goodbye to Jisung. You give him a wave as well, but ignore Minho who looks away from you. 

Jisung stands up and shouts, “I-I’ll see you around!” The door chimes as you both exit. 

“Hyung, I think I’m in love.”

Minho sighs. “You just met her.”

“Did I? Or have our souls been searching for each other across centuries and have finally reunited?” Minho just groans as he picks up his coffee cup. Jisung clutches his chest looking at the glass door before turning to Minho.

“You seem to have taken a liking to, Y/n.” 

Minho snorts into his coffee. “Absolutely not.”

Jisung just shakes his head. “And yet you waited on the porch for fifteen minutes until she finally left her apartment.”

“I-well, that was-” Minho stumbles over his words.

“Uh huh.” He throws the elder a satisfied smirk. Jisung could always see through Minho.

-

While walking back from class the next day you look up to see Minho’s window slightly ajar. A cloud of smoke forcing its way through the crack. Before you can stop yourself, you find your body standing at the threshold knocking on the front door. The door flies open and you're greeted by a beautiful blonde boy with freckles painted across his face. 

“Hello!” the beautiful blonde boy speaks, but it takes a moment for his words to register.

“Uh, hi!” You finally shout out. “I’m your neighbor from downstairs.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Y/n! I’m Felix. I’ve heard so much about you!” he says as he pulls you into a hug.

“You have?” Your voice muffled as you speak into his chest. He releases you and holds you by your shoulders to look you over.

“Wow, you’re beautiful.” You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment.

“Oh, thank you. You are too.” He smiles and invites you in.

“So, Y/n, to what do we owe the pleasure?” You look over and notice he’s in the middle of a video game.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Felix follows your gaze to his paused game.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t really…winning.” He grumbles as he scratches the back of his head.

“Well, I was just looking for-” As if summoned by your subconscious, Minho makes his way downstairs before you can even get his name out.

“Y/n?” You turn to see Minho at the base of the stairs. He’s shirtless wearing only gym shorts. His briefs peeking through. You force yourself to not look at his chest or lower and maintain eye contact. 

“Minho, hey…”

Felix watches the exchange, amused. “You came here for Minho, hyung?” People don’t usually make house calls for his grumpy resident cat. 

“Yeah.” You continue staring at Minho.

“What are you doing here?” He looks at Felix. The two exchange a silent word and Felix nods.

“I am going to check and see if my brownies are done.” He gently squeezes your arm to get your attention. “You’re welcome to one, if you would like.” You smile at him. Felix disappears into the kitchen leaving the two of you alone in the entrance of the house.

Minho closes the gap between you since you seem planted in your spot. He tilts his head. “Well?” He’s standing directly in front of you now. Before you can answer you notice a scar just below his ribs. Without thinking you trace the line with your finger. Minho’s stomach tightens beneath your touch and he lets out a strained breath.

“What happened?”

“It’s from when I was a baby. I had to have a procedure done.” You look up at him concerned, your finger still lightly touching the end of the scar.

“Are you okay now?” 

He affectionately laughs at your question. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Minho moves your hand away before the electrical current from your touch reaches any further south. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and instead stares at where your fingers are intertwined. The atmosphere shifts.

“Hey, hyung, can you help me with-” Jisung suddenly walks in, breaking the tension. “Y/n, hi!” You look at Jisung and shake your head ending the spell. 

“Sorry, I have to go!” You push past Minho after giving Jisung a wave and head to leave. 

Felix calls out to you from the kitchen, “Y/n, your brownie!”

“Next time!” You rush out and close the door behind you.

Jisung looks at Minho blinking. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” he says in disbelief. He walks over to the window and watches as you hurriedly walk down the street and out of view.

-

Minho sits at a table studying when he spots you entering the library. It had been a few days since he last saw you. Your touch now seared on his scar. He felt you every time he closed his eyes and despite himself, he craved your nearness. As if possessed, he abandons his books and follows you into the maze of the stacks. 

It takes some time to find you, but when he does you’re at the end of an aisle at the very back of the library. He can feel his heart beat into his ears. Sensing a presence, you look up from your book and are surprised to meet Minho’s eyes. He stands at the opposite end of the aisle waiting for a signal. You place your book down and face him. Minho takes a tentative step in your direction, then another. You take one too until you're both rushing to close the gap. It probably doesn’t make sense to an outsider, but the two of you were drawn to each other like magnets. Maybe it didn’t make sense to you either. Did you even like Minho? Did it matter? It didn’t, not as he crashed his lips against yours and pushed you into the bookshelf. Electricity crackling between the two of you.

Minho grips the shelf behind him to steady himself. Your hands immediately begin exploring his body. You could feel every outline of his muscles beneath your palms and his skin ignites from your touch. He pushes his hard length into your center as he kisses down your neck. Minho starts sucking and you know it's going to leave a mark. You don’t care. What you didn’t expect was for him to bite you. The pain sends pleasure through your middle and a cry escapes your mouth. This elicits a growl from Minho as his hands begin to hurriedly pull up your jean skirt. You feel his Adam's apple bob as you lick up and down the length of his throat. You then graze your teeth along his jawline. It was your turn to leave marks. Your skirt now up to your hips, Minho completely exposes you to him. You lift your head and look around. 

“What if someone sees?”

“Just look at me.” And you do. Everything around you, the books, the shelves disappear. It’s just the two of you alone. He can feel your arousal as he cups your sex.

“So wet for me, princess. And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t.” 

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

You smack his chest. "Shut up.” He lets out a husky laugh as he places his lips on your shoulder. 

“Bite me again and I’ll kick your nuts.”

“Noted.” You felt him smile against your skin. Minho pushes your panties aside and slides two fingers in without hesitation. You let out a breath not realizing you had been holding one in. 

“Fuck.” You clench around his fingers as you take him in.

“You’re so warm,” he moans. He starts pushing in and out of you as your wetness quickly coats his hand. 

“Kiss me.” He brings his lips to yours and you bite at him needily.

“But I can’t bite you?”

“I swear to god if you ruin this right now with that mouth of yours…”

Minho removes his fingers from you and drops to his knees. “What? This mouth?” 

“Minho, what are-” before you could protest, he licks up your wet folds making you shiver. The tip of his tongue pushes at your clit.

“Yes, more!” Minho slowly circles around before sucking harshly. “Ooh, baby. Like that,” you purr. That nearly sends him over his edge. He palms his bulge with his free hand to adjust himself before he slides his fingers back in. Minho now pumps relentlessly and you can hear your wetness squelch with every movement. 

“Too much!” But Minho doesn’t relent. 

You grip his hair pulling and pushing him further into you. He groans, sending a vibration through your pussy and you moan loudly. 

“Keep your voice down,” he whispers.

“F-fuck you-u,” Minho chuckles as he resumes eating you out. He hikes your leg over his shoulder and the new angle gives his long fingers better reach. Minho can feel the ribs of your walls enclose him tightly and he knows you’re close. Your breathing becomes shallow as your orgasm rises through your body and stars dot your vision. Minho tongues your clit harder and forces a third digit inside of you. You grind against him as you finally come into his mouth. You have to use all your strength to hold in your cries and grip the shelf behind you to stay grounded. Minho doesn’t let up, letting you ride out your orgasm while he laps up your ecstasy. You whimper as you shake from overstimulation. 

Minho finally releases you and stands. He puts your panties back in place and pulls your skirt down. His lips, nose, and chin are covered in your essence making your middle tighten in pleasure. Minho licks each finger individually, not letting a drop go to waste.

“So sweet.”

He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve once he finishes. Still coming down from your high, you don’t realize how closely you're leaning against the bookshelf. Your fingers gripping the shelf so hard your knuckles are white. Minho notices and takes hold of your hands to help you upright. Tension leaves your fingers as he places feather light kisses across your knuckles. All you can do is stare into Minho’s brown eyes. He smiles at your blissed out state and leans into your ear. “See you around, princess.” Minho releases your hands and disappears, leaving you absolutely stunned.

MASTERLIST

-------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List: @linocz @queenmea604

xx

#Stray Kids #Lee Know #Lee Minho #lee know x reader #lee know smut #stray kids lee know #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #lee know fanfic #fanfic smut #skz lee know #skz smut #skz fanfic #skz lee minho #minho x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #Lee Know Fan Fic #weareapackofstrays

[fleuraliasave]

*OUTDATED NEW VERSION AVAILABLE HERE*

❤ Version 5.0 Fleuralia Save File ❤

Download link down below (please read entire post before installing)

This save file uses all EP’s, GP’s (not Journey to Batuu), SP’s and some of the kits (Country Kitchen, Blooming Rooms, Incheon Arrivals, Retro Fit, Industrial loft, Moonlight Chic and Little Campers kit).

What’s new in this update?:

Moonwood Mill and Copperdale have been completely redone, added multiple new lots, updated other lots and provided make-overs for the households.

All households that are currently living in the different worlds have a set sexual orientation and pronouns.

Added new households

Current Status of Worlds:

Finished worlds: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, San Myshuno, Forgotten Hollow, Brindleton Bay, Del Sol Valley, StrangerVille, Glimmerbrook, Sulani, Britechester , Evergreen Harbor, Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill (NEW!) and Copperdale (NEW!).

Finished vacation worlds: Granite Falls and Selvadorada.

Finihed other lots: Hospital, Science Lab and the Police Station.

To be updated: the Magic Realm, will either be included in a future update or on the gallery (OriginID: fleuralia)

What do you get with this save?:

For my save file all lots are either completely new builds (almost all) or renovations, ofcourse created by me. Exceptions: I have added the official builds for the releases of the Paranormal SP by Dr Ashley and the Dream Home Decorator GP by Deligracy to this save, since I thought they deserved a spot. These two are therefore not my own creations, credits are given in the description to Dr Ashley and Deligracy. Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill and Copperdale lots are largely created by GameChangers. Most lots have gotten small updates, others are completely new builds by me.

All the townies had make-overs plus I added new families to spice it up a bit. Some of the townies are made by other creators, who are given credits in the description of the household. All the townies in the different worlds have a story, some include sentiments and adjusted relationships to the story. 

Added plenty of community lots to give your Sims something to do (YAY!). Almost every world has one restaurant, but it also includes festivals that represent the four seasons (park lots) and a fully functional shopping street in Magnolia Promenade (toy store, bridal store and more).

I have added rental lots so you can go on vacation in more worlds. For example in Sulani, Willow Creek and Windenburg.

Other details:

As mentioned at the beginning, this save uses almost all packs (except Journey to Batuu and some kits). This means that if you download it without owning or installing most of the packs a lot of objects will disappear from the save, but if you are not bothered by this you can stil download and play in it.  

I would love to add some households in this save created by all of you! Add your household under the hashtag #fleuraliatownies in The Sims 4 Gallery, you can add a storyline and world in the description but thats not obligatory. If I respond on your creation it means that I have incorporated it in the save for the next update (first one added with this update in Copperdale!)

Sadly the last update and pack came with a lot of bugs, the one I noticed were not specific to the save but to the game, as more players in different saves experienced them. I suggest before reporting problems in the save to me, to check on forums if its related to a general bug/glitch or to mods (if you use them). 

Questions and supportive feedback are always welcome, you can reach me here via a comment on this post, an ask or through a DM 😁

How to make it work in your game:

Download the save file from the link below.

Drag it in your saves folder under: PC/Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves.

Change the numbers if you already have a save with the same name.

It should now show up in your game as: Fleuralia Save Version 5.0.

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

!!Don’t re-upload or claim as your own!!

Future updates will follow after each pack release (if it includes a world). The time the update will be uploaded after each release depends on how much I have to change and on my work schedule around that time.

Last but not least, enjoy and till next time! XX

Fleuralia

#fleuraliasave #fleuraliasaveversion5 #update #sims 4 save file #fleuraliatownies

[haespoir]

me after you: ldh.

⨯ pairing: general!haechan x princess!reader

⨯ word count:  6.2k

⨯ genre: historical au, secret relationship

⨯ summary: being a royal means that you don't have the luxury of marrying for love. but when your younger sister is set to marry your childhood friend turned secret lover, you have to do something.

⨯ content: a lot of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of suicide, character death, open ending

⨯ playlist: fine, taeyeon / lucid dream, aespa / forgetting you, davichi / if it is you, jung seung hwan / how can i love the heartbreak you’re the only one i love, akmu

⨯ a/n: this comes after watching scarlet heart in one sitting. please be kind, this is the longest thing i've written in a while! feedback is always welcome ♡ . . .

You’re barely 10 years old when you first see him. You’re crouched behind a tree as you watch your brother Jaemin from a distance, an unfamiliar male by his side. You have no idea what they’re speaking about, but frankly, you don’t care much. You just want to know more about the male next to Jaemin. 

You've heard numerous stories of love at first sight. You’ve always believed that your first love would come and sweep you off your feet, that they would come in and whisk you away from the palace. But that’s not what he does. Instead, he fills your mind with fantasies, scenarios you only wish you could pursue with him. You imagine nights under the stars with him, being wrapped in his arms would be a dream come true. All this and you don’t even know his name. 

Suddenly, your muse for art is at its all-time high. You stray away from the usual flowers and bright colors. Dark colors make an appearance, and an unnamed male becomes the star of your paintings. It’s odd how someone you’ve never had a full conversation with occupies your mind. 

There’s this odd hunger that makes a home in your heart. Something that can never be calmed. At least not by you. Not by anyone but your mystery man. 

It’s not until a few weeks later that you get a name to match the face. Lee Donghyuck, the son of Grand General Lee. You know right away that he is destined to do nothing but good in his life. A man who can save countless countries in your eyes. 

You finally formally exchange names with him. It’s a wonder really, the way just a few words have you flying on cloud nine. “Lee Donghyuck,” he had said, voice sweeter than honey. It was sad how quickly you became smitten. 

But it seems you are not the only one because it doesn’t take long for the two of you to click. You’ve got a routine going, a secret shared amongst yourselves. Late nights turn into adventures, hand in hand the two of you explore everything the night skies have to offer. 

Looking into the eyes of Donghyuck you swear that he holds your whole universe there. He is limitless. The stars are not confined to just his eyes; they float in his voice when he whispers sweet words to you, and they dance along from his skin to yours when you touch. They surround him with this celestial warmth that is blinding to you. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize it, but you’ve fallen in love with Lee Donghyuck, desperately in love; it stays that way for years to come. 

And then the letters are sent out.

. . .

You are invited to the royal wedding...

Your attendance is requested at the wedding celebration of PRINCESS YI MIYOUNG and GENERAL LEE DONGHYUCK on the evening of Saturday, the 5th of January in the year of 1540 of King Jaehyun’s rule. 

The celebration will be held in the estate gifted to the prince consort and the princess after the formal wedding ceremony in the royal palace. Guests are required to bring forth a gift that will be presented to the bride and groom as well as the original invitation, which is to be presented on entrance. This invitation is extended to the immediate members of the recipient’s household.

His Majesty, King Jaehyun

Father of the bride.

. . .

Anger is a foreign emotion to you. But soon, you’ll find it’s your best friend. 

The date of the wedding weighs down on your soul. It crushes any hope that you have. Like a harsh wind, it blows out the flickering light of hope you have, and it leaves you covered in a darkness that you are unfamiliar with. Sorrow courses through your veins, but its presence is barely acknowledged. There’s something else there that takes control.

Anger.

It clouds your senses until it's all you see. A white flash of rage. A single swipe of your arm leaves your tea cups broken on the floor. Tears of anger slip down your face, but it makes things worse. You’re weak, so weak. And you’re an emotional mess. 

You wish you could be angry at your father for allowing it to happen. At Donghyuck for making empty promises, or even Miyoung, for just being Miyoung. But you can’t. It’s impossible. Your anger is directed at one person only– yourself. 

You hate yourself. It becomes a cycle of self-loathing. You’re unable to be angry at anyone but yourself. You are too careless with your heart. How could you have been so foolish? You know better than anyone else that there’s no room for love when it comes to the royal family. 

You rip the decorative accessories from your hair and throw them with all the strength you can muster. Even so, they don’t make it far. They land in front of an unfinished painting, the image haunting you. A painting meant for Donghyuck. How could you bring yourself to finish it now? 

A piece of glass catches your attention. How easy would it be to end your suffering? A simple cut would be enough, would it not? You could be free of all the politics, free of the pain. The glass feels heavy in your hand and suddenly, you are weighing out your life options.

But the more you think about it, the more your anger manifests. How could you allow someone to have so much control over your life? You’ve given your heart away so easily, and you aren't sure if you’ll ever get it back. 

Without realizing it, your grip on the shard of glass tightens and soon you’re drawing blood. But with your emotions running so wild, you don't even feel the pain. Scarlet tears stain your clothing, but you don't mind. Not now. 

You’re tired, tired of being walked all over. You’re tired of not having a say in your life. But– at the same time– you’ve lost all care. Bitterness seeps into your heart, and you feel like giving up.

However, you refuse to be weak this time around. You’ve been kicked into the dirt once again, but you won’t allow yourself to be buried. You will grow this time, and this time with more resilience than before. 

You watch as another drop of blood falls from your hand. This time, you’ll care only for yourself. This time, you will only care for your own happiness. You’ll face everyone with a fake smile. You’ll congratulate the married couple. And you won’t reveal your sorrow.

. . .

It feels as if a weight has been lifted off Donghyuck’s chest. There had been a few hiccups, but he had survived greeting his future wife. It’s not like he really wanted to, but he knew he had a role to fill. Miyoung wasn’t at fault; it wasn’t as if she had approached her father and begged to allow her to marry him. 

No, it should have been you to do that. 

But he also knew that you were not in the proper position to make those demands. He sighs softly; what a truly frustrating experience this was. The meetings with Miyoung and the King had been draining, but it was clear that they were to be married for political reasons only. After all, Donghyuck came from a family of generals who were completely loyal to the crown. 

As if the sky was reflecting his exhausted nature, the sun had begun to set. The light was slowly dying, a beautiful pink hue painted across the sky. You would have loved to see this sunset; it was one of your favorite activities, just chatting away under the disappearing sun. 

Had he been more aware, he would have heard you approach him. Standing in front of him was a princess, and he would argue that she was his favorite one. 

His surroundings seemed to be muted in comparison to you. There was nothing as vibrant as his lover, if he dared still call you that. Almost instantly, his heart clenches; it hammers within his chest like the war drums sounding his army’s march. It was almost as if his heart was echoing its intent for you. 

“Princess…” Donghyuck catches himself, addressing you with your proper title before an affectionate nickname can slip past his lips. “I hope you are well.” He bows with a foreign eagerness to place as much distance between the two of you as possible.

As he gazes at you, he begins to wonder if betraying the crown is worth it. If it meant he could hold you in his arms he believes he would forsake the entire country for you. That thought alone is terrifying, and it goes against everything his father has taught him. 

So with as much courage as he can, and it’s not a lot, he speaks again: “I bid you farewell.”

There’s an undeniable feeling that pools in your stomach as you look at him. It’s an ache that squeezes your heart so tightly it’s hard to breathe. There’s no one else that you would want to spend your life with, yet he is the same person who is forbidden to you. 

In your bandaged hand is a piece of fabric, one that holds the love and affection you have for the male in front of you. Intricate stars are laced through the dark fabric, representing the countless nights the two of you had spent together. So many sleepless nights spent on something for a man you could no longer love. A man you could no longer call your own. 

“Donghyuck,” you say, almost choking on the tears that you refuse to let fall. There's a feeling of happiness that blinds your senses when you see him, yet you can also feel your heart break at his cautious nature. How could the affection that once laced his words be completely gone? The words that left his mouth felt foreign, and they left you feeling bitter. 

“Please accept this,” you whisper, nearly begging. You barely manage to grip his sleeve; it seems he is in a rush to leave you. That idea only has your heart hurting even more. Your nights amongst the stars seem so distant now. He seems so distant now.

The way you said his name hurt. Even if he had scars covering his body from war, none would hurt as much as it did hearing you call his name out like that. He did not want to do this, it would be so easy to leave and run away, but when a princess begs, it is in your best interest to act in favor of the princess. 

Duty before self. Crown before duty. Country before the crown. These were words that he was taught since he was just a young boy. It was these same words that now haunt his every decision. Duty to the crown– the king had decreed his partner for life. There should be no space within his heart for you. Yet, you occupy all.

With trembling hands, his heart overriding the screams of protest in his head, he takes the star-laced fabric. Quickly, his eyes dart around, checking to see if the two of you were truly alone. Once that’s confirmed, he doesn’t hold back. Calloused hands cup the delicate face of a princess, your beauty clouded by the tears gathering in his eyes.

“What are you expecting?” He asks.

Maybe hours later, when he’s regained control of his emotions and he’s alone, he’d probably berate himself for giving into his weakness. However, right now, the crown be damned. It nearly broke his heart to see you hurting, especially when he loved you so dearly. All because you wanted him to accept a gift, which he’s sure is a parting gift. Even if he wants to deny it. He could be heartless in his duty to the crown, however, this was too much. “I’m already promised to Miyoung,” he says softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You know the king’s decision is final, and I cannot love you. We cannot be seen like this.”

“Leave me.” He whispers, watching as the tears that had pooled in your eyes begin to fall. “And forget me.”

“Forgive me,” he thinks to himself. 

It’s a concept that is foreign to you; the fact that his words hurt more than any physical wound- you’ve never felt anything like this. His words are like needles, and your heart is their resting place. 

Like always, Donghyuck is able to take your breath away. But this time he’s left you with no air, and no words as well. You don’t know what you had expected to become of the two of you– after all, Donghyuck was always someone who chose his country and the crown over anything. 

“I can't accept it,” you sob. And even if you tried, you don’t know how to. There's no one else in the palace who you love as much as you love Donghyuck. And it’s so difficult for you to come to terms with. 

“I can’t leave you, and I can’t forget you,” you recited as if it was a mantra that had been playing in your mind for days. And you had. Your thoughts had been consumed with Donghyuck since you had met him. 

Donghyuck, without much thought, presses his lips to yours. As if it's the most natural thing for him to do, as if he wishes to ease the pain of your breaking hurt. And it works, if only briefly. 

You relish the feeling of his lips against yours, a feeling you find yourself not knowing you missed. You never realized how hungry you were for Donghyuck until you got a taste. Like a drug, you’re not sure if you’re able to give him up. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, unable to let go of him. 

But no matter how selfish you wish to be, you can’t.

An internal conflict impossible for you to escape. You pull away from him quickly, tears spilling from your eyes freely now. How could you do this to Miyoung? How could the king do this to you?

Donghyuck had lost to his own weakness; he had lost to his own emotions. Everything always came back to you. Your lips were just as he remembered. You were an addiction to him as well, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to quit. 

He knew you. He knew the meaning of those tears; he could see the conflict brewing within your eyes.

“You're thinking about Miyoung, aren’t you?” He says softly, his hands moving to curl stray hair behind your ear. “You’re unable to betray your sister, as I am unable to betray the king.” 

He’s once again brushing your tears away with his fingers. “So much for being a general,” he bitterly thinks to himself. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to run away with him, but he has a family to think about. He has to think about his duty to the crown and to his family. Unknowingly, tears had also begun to fall from his eyes. “The moment the King announced our marriage it was over. What did you expect coming to see me here?”

His words are once again stabbing at your heart.

“Of course, I'm thinking about your wife,” you say, “My sister. Your wife. A person who gets to spend their nights in your arms.” It hurts even more as you speak, the words leaving your lips in soft breaths. It’s official, Lee Donghyuck has broken you.

The feeling of his fingers on your face brings back nostalgic memories. Instinctively, you lean into his touch. There is nothing that you wouldn’t give up for Donghyuck– you were just that in love with him. But you were just a princess– a princess willing to give up their title and life just for some general. And while you want to say that you’re unsure if Donghyuck would do the same, you know his loyalty to the crown is undying. And that is what tears your heart apart. 

“Do you know how difficult it is?” There are so many nights where you find that sleep doesn’t welcome you with open arms anymore. Instead, it turns its back to you, ignoring your pleas as you spend the night tossing and turning. 

It’s hard for you to speak; you’re choking on tears. You don't know what you expect from Donghyuck anymore. Your situation has become so complicated. It's hard for you to even comprehend. 

“I can't expect the same love I once received, I know I can't,” you say weakly, hating how difficult it was for you to speak. “But I do. Donghyuck– I crave it. I miss you so much.”

“To-be. Wife to-be. We’re not married yet.” He states bitterly, doing his best to draw the line distinctively. “She will not spend her nights with me. I have not touched her hand, her lips, or her.” 

It’s like daggers are embedding themselves into his heart with each word. He does his best to defend himself and calm your anxieties as he speaks. “I will sleep in my own study even if we are wed.”

“To be or is, what difference does it make? You are no longer mine Donghyuck– why can’t I grasp it?” you speak with anger towards yourself now, each word produces a new cloud of darkness in your heart, a feeling you’re becoming used to unfortunately. 

You’ve come to a full circle of blaming yourself. You’re the one to blame, had you not fallen for Donghyuck that fateful day, this wouldn’t be happening. Had you begged the king to allow you to wed Donghyuck instead of Miyoung, maybe you would have gotten your happy ending. 

But it’s too late for that now. Even the thought of Donghyuck spending a night with Miyoung pains you. Though you want nothing best for your siblings– if Donghyuck is Miyoung’s best, you might find yourself changing your mind.

“You are always the last thought that I have before I close my eyes. You were my very last thought when I thought I was on the verge of dying.” His words are earnest as he speaks. “You are the one that kept me strong on the way back home, back to you. I thought about your crying face and fought the reapers who had come to claim me.” 

Donghyuck’s hands drop to your waist as he pulls you into him, holding you close. “The love you’ve once received is still here.” He takes your hand and places it over his chest. “You will always be in my heart until the day I breathe my last breath.”

You grip the fabric that separates your hand and his heart. “You plague my every waking thought, Donghyuck. And even when I think I can be free of you– you appear again. Countless nights I prayed for your safety. I prayed for you to come back. To come back to me.” But that’s not the reality you get. Your father had rewarded the man you loved for winning the war by giving him your younger sister’s hand in marriage. How cruel.

“It is torture to give a man your heart and soul only for it to be rejected because the crown and country are placed higher than you,” you say, hitting his chest with your balled-up fist. “It is truly torture having to hide away from your family because you’re ashamed. Ashamed to face your sister for loving her soon-to-be husband. Ashamed at the fact that I couldn't even be vocal about how much I loved you– how much I do love you.”

You move to cup his cheeks, your thumbs caressing his face in ways that you can only hope to express how much affection you still hold for him. “What are we to do? What am I to do?”

Donghyuck swears this is like a dead game of go, several stones are already stuck. Defeat is imminent. Perhaps he is going soft and becoming vulnerable. He had heard this is what love does to a person. He had warned those who learned from him that placing too much focus on one objective would be their downfall. Yet here he is, doing everything in his power to keep you safe and by his side. 

Even if he meant betraying his loyalty. 

It would be simple; avoid the engagement and wedding as long as he could. Then, when your brother Jaemin takes the throne, he could annul the engagement. It would have to work; it was the only way. For this to work, the King must die.

He could do it in five years, maybe even four. An illness, or a coup. Something like that could work, right? The thought alone makes his heart race. Someone with an undying loyalty to the crown, thinking such treasonous thoughts.  

He looked at you, the love of his life. He could see the pain that flickered in your eyes. Were you worth committing high treason for? To go against the crown and country? To go against everything he had ever known?

The answer was blatantly yes. 

Would your love survive if he was the one to end the life of your father? Even if it was a perfect crime, would his own soul survive dealing with the guilt?

“I love you.” He whispered, pulling you into him once again. Donghyuck closed his eyes, willing away the demons forming in his mind. When someone you love more than life is in pain, it is a very simple decision to make on the spot. 

Donghyuck lies.

“It will all be fine,” he says. “I will find a way for us. Can you wait?”

One look into his eyes, and you know he’s planning something. You can hear the cogwheels turning in his brain. Like a true General, or to-be Grand General– you know he wastes no time in making plans. You know him too well, after all, he was once your Donghyuck. 

Being in his arms was where you belonged, where you would happily spend the rest of your days. But that was not so easy anymore. You could no longer hold the affection you once held for him. 

Logically, it’s not right. You know it’s not. It's your loyalty to your sister that reminds you of this every single day. Miyoung was a princess, and you would not allow your sister’s reputation to be tarnished. There were just some things that were above you. Anyone with a brain knows that this is not just some easy mistake to be fixed. 

But you have always followed your heart. 

So you allow yourself to fall into Donghyuck once more. “I love you as well,” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. You can hear his steady heartbeat as you place your head on his chest; it calms your aching soul. Donghyuck is your sun, your moon, and all your stars. You know that he is someone you’re willing to fight for. 

“I will wait for you until the end of time, you know that.” The words slip past your lips effortlessly, a white lie in its purest form. You know that Donghyuck will always be in your heart, but you also know how the world works. It works in cruel and unfortunate ways. 

A princess as soft-spoken as you will never get what you want. You are a pawn to others. You know soon enough that you will be married off– just as your sister was. And when the time comes, will you still be able to put Donghyuck above all else? 

“But are you able to wait for me?”

He leans away from you to look at your face, his hands not leaving your waist. “I fought death for you,” he thinks to himself, feeling his heart swell at the image of you. 

“Is this doubt I hear?” He gazes at you with false anger, a playful smirk decorating his features. “You dare doubt the hero, the Grand General Lee Donghyuck?”

“I will wait for you until the end of time,” He says, leaning in and stealing several small kisses between each word. You allow yourself to be showered in his love, and you enjoy the feeling wholeheartedly. You carve the feeling of his lips against your skin into your mind. You won’t ever allow yourself to forget it; you won’t allow yourself to forget your love. Separating himself from you, Donghyuck takes a step backward, his hands gently holding both of yours.

“I’m not good with words,” he begins, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But since I’ve already broken my own vow to stay away from you, I might as well speak freely now. I had prepared for months to say this, hoping that I would get to say it when I received your hand from the King.”

He takes a breath, his gaze meeting yours. 

“Once, as a young boy, my father told me to never stare at royalty. We should keep our heads bowed. And I took that to heart until you. How could I not look at the most beautiful person in the palace? For the first time in my life, I took a gamble. I asked Jaemin to introduce me to you. I was just his sparring partner then, and I thought I would have been executed for that.” 

Donghyuck thinks back to that day, smiling fondly at the reactions he remembered receiving from Jaemin. Why was his sparring partner interested in his sister? It hadn’t made sense to Jaemin then, and a part of Donghyuck almost wishes he never asked. 

“Jaemin introduced us, and when you smiled at me… I was never able to look away. If not for you, I don’t think I would have ever known a love so deeply in my life. I fell in love with you when I was ten, just a young boy,” he smiles, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m twenty-three now, and I’ve been loving you more and more each and every day since I was ten. I regret not a second of it.”

You know that your end is coming soon. 

But with every word, Donghyuck makes it so much harder for you to give him up. His words cause your mind to run; it runs to a place where the two of you are free to love each other.

However, that place is not here.

You two are but a small chapter in the novel of this country, a small insignificant chapter. And you realize that now.

Yet your heart still races at his words. You know that you are Donghyuck’s weakness. So it leaves you no choice but to be the strong one in your situation. 

“Every second I've spent with you, there is not a single regret that plagues them. You have given me the love I never knew I needed.” You raise your intertwined hands, placing a gentle on the back of his hand.

“And for that, I thank you. The first time I laid my eyes on you, I knew you would be more than just a man to me. I've given you my whole heart, and I can only hope you keep it safe.” Your words pain you. You know this is your goodbye, the last time you will ever see Donghyuck with these feelings of love dancing in your heart. 

So you press one last soft kiss against his lips before you speak again: “I should head back to my quarters, as should you. It's quite late. Be safe.” 

With these last words, you let go of your first love and quickly turn for your room. The farther you get, the more tears fall. You wonder if it’s really better this way.

. . .

It is a good thing that Donghyuck had not spoken of his treasonous thoughts to you because they fall through so quickly. 

The silence in the air becomes a newfound friend to you. Something you once detested before now brings you endless comfort. The day is coming sooner than you hoped. You must congratulate your sister. You must congratulate the love of your life, Lee Donghyuck, for getting married to your dear sister.

It hurts. It hurts like hell. There are so many things you wish you would have done differently. You wish that you didn’t meet Lee Donghyuck– that you never fell in love with him. You shouldn’t have given everything away so easily. Because now, you’ve become a fool, a pawn in this game of chess. All of you have.

You’ll be okay. It's a mantra that repeats in your head like a broken record. He's not worth it. Nobody should have control over your life like Donghyuck does. It’s time for you to let go. 

And so you try.

The moon supplies no light in the dark garden. Yet, you are there. Your canvas is set– Donghyuck’s unfinished painting there. The dark sky is displayed on the once white canvas, small stars littered sparsely amongst the space. Two figures bask in the glow provided by the white paint. Figures that were once Donghyuck and you have been completely remade into Donghyuck and Miyoung.

It ignites anger in your faint heart once again. But the healing scar on the palm of your hand reminds you to never take the anger out on yourself, never again.

So you take your anger out on the painting.

With a heavy grip, you stab your paintbrush into the canvas. Before your eyes, the painting becomes two pieces. Something you wish their marriage would become.

But it hurts you to even think these ill thoughts. You care for your sister so much. And you care for Donghyuck even more. Yet there’s this new evil that rests in your heart. Suddenly, becoming bitter seems easier than letting go. And it definitely looks more attractive with every second that passes.

It takes a few days of peaceful meditation, but you find yourself in the garden again. Your muse this time, a budding flower. A representation of the new relationship that will bud between the two. A representation of the new take on life you have.

The color blue stains your fingers. A color for freedom and peace. This painting is made with Donghyuck in mind. The words “I forgive you," are woven throughout the flower. And you only hope that Donghyuck is able to understand it.

The nights following your breakdown instilled a resolve that you could have never found yourself following. A path laced thoroughly with bitterness and hatred. A path completely unfamiliar to you. But it’s a path you will now call your own. For you have learned that those with a faint heart can’t survive. They won’t survive. And now you will do whatever it takes to survive.

You spend the night before the wedding in the garden again. It is foolish for you to hope that Donghyuck will arrive. You know that it is wishful thinking. As you walk the path engraved in the ground made by the two of you, you know it is the last time.

. . .

The morning brings signs of your new beginning. A new you. This is your chance at a new life. You will create a new path for yourself, a path you will now travel alone. You no longer need Donghyuck. All you need is yourself.

Your resilience is stronger than ever before. But you know that your weakness rests in your heart; you would be foolish to lie to yourself and say it doesn’t. You have always been someone who loves wholeheartedly. From a young age, you gave everything you had to offer to those you love. You had given your heart to Lee Donghyuck, and now you had to give him to your sister. 

You arrive at the wedding on time. But the happiness in the air has no effect on your mood. You’re sad and heartbroken– it’s inevitable. But you don't let it show. 

Sitting through the ceremony hurts. It’s expected, but you begin your healing process quickly. You lower your expectations for Donghyuck. You no longer expect anything from him. Not even a glance.

And so, your eyes stray from him. They only stay on Miyoung. Your heart hurts for the younger princess. You know that she wants nothing more than to not be married to Donghyuck. You know that someone else resides in the heart of your sister. Yet you hope she is able to find happiness. You don't wish for darkness to form in her sister’s heart.

. . .

“Your Highness, your sister comes bearing gifts.”

You stand tall, a soft smile on your lips. “For her highness, an embroidered scroll.” The scroll your maid hands over tells the tale of sorrow you feel for your younger sister. An arrangement of flowers decorates the fabric, a single daisy being the star of the show. A flower to represent hope and innocence. You pray that Miyoung is able to keep her hope throughout this marriage and that her innocence never fades.

“And a painting for you, General Lee.” The bitterness that dances on your tongue makes it hard for you to keep your composure, but you do your best. The blue carnation decorating the canvas is not something that you have ever laid your eyes upon. Rather something you have created for Donghyuck himself. The last thing you will ever create for him.

“I wish you both a prosperous marriage.'' Those are your final words as you bow. Your eyes avoid Donghyuck's as you leave, disappearing from his sight once the door is closed. You only wish that all involved can find happiness. For this is the last time you will allow yourself to be heartbroken like this. 

. . .

King Jaehyun gathers everyone’s attention with a clear voice that rings out clearly in the chilly night air. He motions to the tables set around a fire that blazes in the middle to warm the guests against a biting winter breeze. 

Daughters sit with fathers, quietly gazing away from the king out of politeness. Sons sit with their mothers, quiet and attentive, ready to hang upon the King’s every word.  Here marks the start of a toast: from a father wishing the best to his daughter in her married life, from a king looking proudly on his son in law who’s already achieved so much in such a short amount of time. There is a moment when the mantle of the king is laid down and instead, the wishes of a father ring out into the night.

It's obvious that the princess is unhappy sitting next to her now husband. It's obvious that her husband looks as if he wants to be anywhere else, beaten down already as he is by the rumors and the whispers about his wife and their marriage bed. 

The King can see it all clearly, but to them, he wishes them lifelong happiness. He hopes that in the end, they’ll find it. And he expects that they will. 

No one notices the looks that are shared slyly behind his back between certain members of the court. Everyone is far too interested in the married couple at the head of their table, seated close to the King. They’re far too invested in the King’s words, and the gleam of pride in his eyes when he looks over at the married couple as he is ready to put the cup to his lips. It’s a signal for everyone else to do the same, and so they do.  

It's a shame, really, that no one notices. This all could have been avoided if they had.

The toast ends with a sip of alcohol in the King’s presence, all members of the party turning away from him to drink from their cups. It doesn’t start right away– people put down their cups, and there’s once again a dull chatter that bubbles through the crowd. After all, no one is expecting a red wedding.

It takes a few minutes to settle in the system. Most poisons do. First, it’s the princess who coughs up blood, staining her hanbok a dark shade of crimson. That’s when the panic begins, her coughing not stopping; she continues to cough and bleed, unable to breathe from the poison that’s boiling hot in her system.

It's not just the princess though.

Several members of the court are clutching at their robes, heaving and clawing in fevered desperation to cling to their lives. The poison is fast acting. And it leaves the princess, the Minister of Defense, and a General as cold as the night air.

In the blink of an eye, two sons become the head of their family, forced to take on the mantle of their dead fathers. In the blink of an eye, a princess is stolen from the world. And in the blink of an eye, three families are torn apart and heartbroken. For a long moment, there’s silence. The King is pale. 

And then all you can hear is the wailing of the groom.

#guys tell me who u thinks died >:) #nct #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #haechan fic #haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan angst #nct fic #nct angst #nct x reader #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #nct fanfic #historical au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: Work is starting to get pretty busy again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You are left undisturbed for near a day after the news arrives. You should be grateful for the reprieve but you cannot find respite among your unease. 

Edith is gone, your world is splintered, yet this marriage must proceed. Not for your own sake, but for your family's. You expect your father wouldn't be content to have you return to his household. The only benefit to your sister's tragedy is that he was able to rid himself of you.

Doreen informs you that you are to ready for another lunch. You choose a gown of faded peach and a bonnet with a narrow rim and white ribbon. She helps you dress before leaving to look in on your mother.

You look in the mirror and wonder if maybe you were prettier your voice wouldn't matter so much. You pin the brooch with the blue bird just below your neckline. You pretend Edith is there with you, talking you through this. I believe in you, sissy, remember when you stole my cap back from that angry hog?

You wait to be called. You hate to presume or wait around where others might be disturbed by your presence. It isn't Doreen who comes but another servant, a broad steely-haired woman. She bids you out and you follow meekly, gaze straying to the golden frames and painted canvas.

The meal is hosted in the dining hall. A long ebony table with matching chairs. Each seat is upholstered with emerald velvet and capped with curlicued posts. You are shown to yours by Parson to the one reserved for you. 

Your mother sits with her tears hidden behind her fan, not so much as looking in your direction. Doreen stands at her shoulder and offers a handkerchief. You can only hear the reprimand she would issue should you be blubbering so.

You rise as the duke enters, but not alone. Your mother leans heavily on the way, gathering herself with several flaps of her fan. She snaps it shut and tucks it away as she raises her chin, shooing away Doreen.

“Lady Thea,” Laufeyson begins before addressing you, “my parents, the Grand Duke Odin and the Grand Duchess, Frigga.”

He steps aside as an older couple stand regally in the archway. The man is burly but stout, with dark grey hair streaked with white. His jaw is set squarely and there is a familiar blue tint to his eyes. The woman is tall and blond and fair, her figure untouched by her age and her hair so golden that the grey strands only seem to make her shine.

You recognise them. The portraits in the main hall. Even with some decades since the artist’s work, they are beyond compare to their pigmented likenesses. They are as elegant and resplendent as their son. It sinks a rotten pit in your chest. Perhaps, they might not want you either.

“We’re acquainted, Thea and I,” Frigga declares, “I believe your father might recall her.”

“Yes, Lady Thea,” he bows, “I know your husband better, I’m afraid.”

The duke has a pinched look to his lip as he listens with his chin high. He moves stiffly, gesturing to the table, “mm, yes, let us be seated–”

“Loki,” Frigga says as she slowly wades forward, her skirts rippling like water, “what about your brother? He received an invitation, didn’t he?”

“Mother, certainly he did, but he is ever… unpredictable,” Loki offers. It is jarring to think of him as anything but the duke. To think he is anything but the master of Jade Park.

“Lady Jane is with child,” Frigga counters, “it might take them some time.”

“Lady Frigga, Lord Odin,” your mother begins, “I cannot remark upon your son’s hospitality enough. He’s been a wonderful host, especially…” she pauses and turns her head, touching her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Oh, we were distraught to hear of Lady Edith. Such a tragedy. So young and beautiful.”

You stare at the wall. You try not to think of the statement laced between her words. You are young too but not so beautiful.

“And your younger daughter is endearing, that is a rather charming brooch,” she turns her green irises on you.

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga,” you hold your head high as you cling to a thread of dignity.

Her cheeks bulb and there is a slight tremor in her chin before she can answer, “oh, that is a peculiar accent, dear.”

You don’t know if you should thank her. You can’t tell if she holds any derision but you’d prefer she not mention it. It’s obvious, it needn’t be emphasized.

Your eyes skitter over to Odin who watches you with quiet consideration. He does not hold the same disapproval as your father but you can’t read much in his face.

“She is all I have left,” your mother bemoans, “two daughters. That’s all I got. How I wanted to give my husband his heir but… it was not to be and now…”

“Oh, Thea,” Frigga drawls, “if you are to fraught to remain–”

“No, no,” your mother expands her fan and pushes air into her face, dabbing her tears with her knuckle, “no, I’m so happy for our families to come together.”

“As are we. It is only sensible–”

She is interrupted by some furor at the other end of the house. A smile curls her lips as a booming voice fills the corridor like thunder. As your eyes drift towards the doorway, they meet Loki’s. He looks at you with a furrow between his brows before he shifts his gaze towards the clamour.

The men rise first. You get to your feet as Parson rushes in to announce the new arrival. As he introduces Lord Thor and Lady Jane, he is almost breathless. The couple appears behind him, the towering duke clapping the groom’s shoulder so he staggers. The duchess gives a pretty smile to the grand duchess as her hand rests on her rounding stomach.

“Oh, Jane,” Frigga sweeps across the chamber to embrace her daughter-in-law without pretense, “you are immaculate,” she pulls back and cradles her cheeks, “you look well.”

“Do I? I’ve been struck sick for days.”

“But it shall pass,” Frigga avows and beckons the duchess with her to the table, “Lady Jane, my first son’s wife.”

You bow your head and your mother does the same, taking the lead as you remain silent, “Lady Jane, a delight to… meet you. Oh, my apologies,” your mother fans herself more rapidly, “your eyes, they have the same shape as my dear Edith’s.”

“Edith?” Jane utters and looks at Frigga. The grand duchess leans over to whisper gently. “Oh, my condolences, Lady Thea, oh and such timing as this?” She turns to you, “a betrothal is supposed to be a joyous affair, I cannot bear to think how you are doing.”

You don’t know what to say, as often you find yourself lacking. Your lips tremble but you do your best to keep your composure.

“I will miss my sista vewy much,” you try to speak slow and clear, but it just sounds clumsy, “I didn’t know…” you see the flicker in her eyes, the dimple in her cheek, the judgment casting a shadow over her, “I didn’t know you and yaw husband would attend.”

Jane’s lips part and her brows rise as she looks at her mother-in-law. Frigga tries not to acknowledge the almost taunting expression. You can’t. You feel it throttling you. Just be quiet.

“How fetching,” Thor intones, surprising you as he comes to stand behind his mother and wife, chewing a biscuit he snatched from the tray.

“Fetching?” Jane scoffs.

“The way she speaks, yes? I think it is… interesting.”

“That hardly matters,” Frigga insists, “it is what one says, not how they say it.”

You clamp your lips together. You want to crumple to the floor and sob. You don’t want to be stood here like some jester to entertain these people. You want to go home and see your sister’s casket. You want to be near her, even if she’s not really there.

Again, you find Loki’s distasteful glare. His throat bobs and his lips thin even further.

“Yes, yes, let us sit and eat. My staff has worked the morning to prepare us a fine lunch,” he chides, “I’d hate to see it wasted.”

🔹

You stare at your untouched plate of cold meats and cheese. You’re not very hungry. Perhaps it is grief, or more likely it is shame. You want to shrink down to a morsel of dust and disappear.

There is an odd sort of skill acquired by those who are quiet. Observation. The ability to see so much, to take in every gesture, every twitch, every look with meaning. And you do not miss those errant gazes in your direction. Some with anticipation, others with dread, each waiting for you to say another twisted syllable.

Your mother fills the silence you refuse to break. She regales the table with the story of how she met your father on the promenade, how he trod on her skirts, and she hit him with her reticule. A tale you’ve heard anon.

She hiccups suddenly and cups her hand over her mouth. You turn to look at her as her wrinkles deepen and her gulps become sobs. She shakes her hand and waves her other. Doreen appears at her shoulder.

“My lady,” the servant says.

“Oh, Lady Thea,” Frigga dismisses the maid with a subtle flick of her fingers, “let us get you some air. It is such a lovely day, and I believe we do have some matters to attend to.” She helps your mother to her feet, hanging on to her elbow, “Lord Odin, you will accompany, in case she faints.”

Odin grunts. He hasn’t said much of anything. He seems more enamoured of this plate. As he stands, he stuffs a roll of sliced ham into his mouth. Chairs scrape as you stand to see them off. Doreen follows the older trio through the archway as they set off.

You resume your seat and watch the tablecloth. Your mother was of little assistance while present but without her, you are defenseless. Loki sips from his tea as Jane spears a slice of pear with her fork and Thor cracks a hard-boiled egg in his hand.

“So, I’ve not seen you before. You haven’t debuted?” Jane asks.

Your eyes flit up to hers. You almost don’t believe she’s talking to her. You’d been praying they’d forget you were there.

“My sista was ill and she is older so I was waiting until she went fast.”

“Fast? Went fast?” Jane repeats as she pretends to think, “went fast where?”

Loki sighs and sets his cup on the saucer with a harsh clink, “first. She meant first.”

“Oh, my, apologies, I’m afraid I have a bit of trouble understanding you. I don’t think I’ve heard any sort of affectation,” he smiles falls to something more sinister, “it is rather… garish.”

“Jane,” Thor says through a mouthful of egg, stopping himself to swallow, “she speaks clearly enough.”

“I’ve heard of physicians who can tend to that. They can teach you how to pronounce your words properly. Through repetition.” She enunciates each word, making sure to move her lips deliberately.

You fight a grimace. You swallow and look at your plate. It isn't the first time someone's made those comments, she will doubtful be the last. Just like those boys who used to call you 'widiculous' or 'wavishing'.

“Please, this doesn’t need to be a whole point of conversation,” Loki reproaches.

“I am only offering advice.”

“You are the one who spoke to her. None of us wanted to hear her.”

“Loki,” Thor says appalled, “she is to be your wife.”

“I was supposed to marry her sister. The normal one. The dead one.”

You flinch and let your shoulders slump. You bring your hands up and cover the brooch on your dress, as if holding Edith tight. Your lip pokes out as you fight a tide of grief that threatens to erupt.

“Aw, look, she is going to cry,” Jane taunts.

“Jane,” Thor’s voice hardens, “no more.”

Jane snaps her lips shut and rolls her beautiful hazel eyes. She pops the slice of sugared pear into her mouth behind her cruel smirk. Loki sneers at his fork as he twirls it in his hand. Thor gives you a glum look but it lands like a slap. He cannot relate to you, he can only pity you, and that is worse than contempt.

“If you are cuwious, Lady Jane, I have been to many physicians. They cannot help me,” you shrug, “just like they could not help my sista.”

Thor clucks and lets out a breath through his nostrils. Jane doesn’t falter, smiling as she chews, and Loki pushes himself to his feet. His chair threatens to topple as he swivels on his heel.

“I would see to our parents, make certain they are well and that this… contract is still in effect,” he takes rigid steps along the table, “I should hate to squander any more time in uncertainty.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the sticking point #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor #jane foster #frigga #odin

[bitterpotionn]

Johnny Slaughter - Springsteen

This fic is inspired by Eric Church's, Springsteen. Also got some Bruce Springsteen influence packed in there. This one is a doozy, with a lot of experimenting, we get fluffy and mean Johnny all in one. I'm still unsure of how I feel about this piece so any feedback will be greatly appreciated.

I hope you all like it, as always any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome! I love reading all of your comments, it motivates me so so much.

Warnings: unsafe sex, dubcon (towards the end), fluffy fluffy Johnny, lovemaking, neck grabbing, smoking, mean/sad Johnny, angst, tattoos

It was a hot July night. The windows of Johnny's truck were rolled down, and Born to Run played on the radio. She leaned against the open window, letting the wind brush past her face as he went a steady pace down the old dirt road.

Johnny's scarred hand reached down and squeezed her thigh as he turned up the radio, a wide grin on his face as he sang. "Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire?" She quickly turned and smiled at him. Johnny's singing voice was deep and off-key but he continued, "'Cause baby, I'm just a scared and lonely rider," his eyes flicked to hers periodically, as he tried to somewhat focus on the road. His grin was still wide.

She grabbed his hand and sang along with him. "But I gotta know how it feels, I want to know if love is wild, babe," their voices were loud as they sang together, small laughs breaking up between the lyrics.

Johnny could barely contain his giddy smile as she sang into his hand like a microphone, stroking his face as she serenaded him.

They spent a lot of nights like this. They stayed at the local diner as long as they could until one of the waitresses made them leave. Then, Johnny always took the long way to her house. They both tried to prolong their time together. Johnny loved how he felt around her. Away from his family, away from the violence, she was like a beacon of light that lit him up in ways he never thought was possible. His life was so dark and grim, it almost suffocated him but with her, he could breathe fresh, cool air.

The radio now was at a low volume, it acted as a comforting background noise. She cuddled up to his arm as he drove, his hand wrapped around her leg. Johnny leaned his cheek against her head, one hand placed firmly on the wheel. Johnny felt her grip on him tighten as they passed the familiar sign for her street.

Johnny pulled into her long driveway and parked at the top. His eyes flicked down and saw a deep frown on her face as she ran her fingers along his torn knuckles. "Don't go, I wish you could stay," her voice was a low whisper, barely audible.

He let out a small hum, nodding. "I know, pretty," when he looked down at her, he started to see small tears form at the corners of her eyes. Johnny quickly nuzzled his face into her neck, making kissing sounds. She let out a small laugh as she laid her back against his seat, he was now hovering over her.

"C'mon don't be sad, you'll see me bright and early tomorrow, yeah?" when she didn't respond he lifted her chin up and rubbed his nose against hers, again earning a small laugh from her as she nodded. "Alright," she mumbled out with a pout. "I dunno why I can't just stay at your place, my folks would never know," her hands cupped his face, her thumb gently rubbing over his scar.

Johnny gave her a strained smile, he couldn't tell her the real reason she couldn't stay. He wanted her far away from his family's carnage and horror. They didn't even know about her, if they did they would just scold him for it. Love didn't exist in the Slaughter household.

"You wouldn't like my place anyway, not very clean," he teased squeezing at her cheeks. She playfully swatted his hands away. "I hope we can get our own place one day, just me and you," Johnny smiled and nodded "I'd like that,"

--

"Johnny we can't" she giggled, holding his arm tightly as they walked down the worn sidewalks in town. "C'mon, it's to celebrate your birthday," He grinned down at her and gave her waist a small squeeze.

They made their way to a small tattoo parlor. Johnny sat comfortably in the chair, all while grinning widely at her. She nervously held his hand as the tattoo artist wiped his arm down. "Your mom is going to kill you, Johnny," his grin widened "Let her," he smirked at her and pulled her in for a kiss

--

"Does it hurt," she asked running her fingertips over the fresh ink, now permanently embedded into Johnny's arm. "Nah," he watched as she studied his arm with awe. Her name was tattooed on his bicep. She smiled up at him wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to him, kissing him deeply a wide smile on her lips.

Johnny let out a small groan and smirked into the kiss, pulling her close. Letting out a small laugh, she looked around the tattoo parlor, she could feel her cheeks heat up, she was clearly embarrassed by the PDA. He gave her a small grumble and held her hand, leading her out of the parlor.

--

Johnny lay on her bed, watching her old TV perched on her dresser. Johnny usually wasn't around her house much, her parents weren't too fond of him. They always made small comments about his "odd" family, they thought he came from trash. In some ways they weren't wrong.

This weekend though, they were lucky enough to have the entire house to themselves. Her parents were out of town for a couple of days and he essentially moved in for the weekend. She thought it would be great practice for when they have their own place.

Johnny was dressed casually for once. He was wearing sweatpants with no shirt. He looked almost comical. The way his large body lay in the middle of a twin-sized mattress, which was covered in stuffed animals and bright bedding. Funnily enough, this is the comfiest he's ever been.

Johnny felt himself drift off, only to be awoken by the sound of her entering the room. He turned to look at her, she was wearing an oversized t-shirt with sleep shorts. He couldn't help but smile and reach out for her, his scarred arms motioning her forward. She gave him a smile and crawled into the cramped bed with him. She was practically laying on top of him due to the lack of room.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his hands rubbing up and down her back. She let out a small “mhm” in response, burying her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The domestic feeling made Johnny feel warm. He never got this feeling at home, it was either too loud or deathly quiet there. But here, the silence was welcome, it was comfortable, it was good.

--

The morning came steadily, the golden sunrise shines through her sheer curtains, casting rays directly on Johnny’s face. He was on his side, his toned arms wrapped around her as she slept soundly.

For once, he woke up calm. He didn’t wake up to the sound of screaming or a revving chainsaw. All he could hear now was the faint chirp of the morning birds and her small snores.

His hands traveled up and down her waist, caressing her skin softly. He smiled as she started to wake up, her eyelashes batted as she turned her head to look at him with a smile. “Morning…” she yawned and stretched her arms.

Johnny kissed up the back of her neck. His calloused hands found their way to her breasts, giving them soft squeezes. She smiled and laid her head back against his chest, letting him explore her body freely.

Johnny nibbled on her earlobe, earning a giggle from her, it was like music to his ears. He lifted up her shirt, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. He rolled her nipple between his fingers.

Small moans escaped her lips, her hands covered his, following his ministrations. Johnny gently moved so he was hovering over her. One forearm next to her head kept him steady as he continued kneading her breasts. He eventually leaned down and began sucking on one, allowing himself to let out small grumbles. The bulge in his sweatpants was hard to ignore at this point.

Once Johnny was seemingly satisfied, he let go of her breast with a loud pop, smirking up at her. At this point, she was breathless, she was trying to squeeze her legs together for some kind of friction but couldn’t because of Johnnys knee inbetween her legs, he loved teasing her.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Tell me what you want, baby,” his words were low. With a small whine she squeezed Johnnys forearm, her eyes flicked toward his tattoo, she smiled. “You, please,” Johnny chuckled and kissed her earlobe as his hand traveled down to yank her sleep shorts off with one smooth tug. Exposing her bare sex to him.

Johnny kissed down her breasts, then to her stomach, stopping to pepper kisses all over her abdomen making her giggle and pout. “No teasing,” she whined out, her fingers finding their way to his messy hair. Johnnys eyes flicked up to hers and he smiled. He continued down to her aching cunt. He licked his lips and pressed a small kiss to her clit, making her gasp and buck her hips toward him.

He chuckled again. “So needy, doll,” Johnny got in his knees on the floor, he tugged her body to him so he was eye-level with her needy cunt. She gasped and grabbed onto the sheets, looking at him with desperate eyes. Johnny wrapped his arms around her thighs and licked a long stripe up her folds, groaning deeply as he did so. He savored how she tasted as he continued to lick her cunt.

She arched her back off the bed and gripped Johnny's head as he ate her out. Johnny tried to keep her steady but was so focused on her sweet taste that he didn't mind the wild bucking of her hips. He knew her body like the back of his hand, what made her go crazy, and he was happy to indulge her. After he slipped in two fingers, he could tell she was almost at her breaking point. Her moans became high-pitched and needy, her hips wildly humped into his face. With one last whine, he felt her come undone in his mouth. Johnny didn't stop however, he kept licking her up, his grin wide as he stared at her blissed out face.

Johnny slowly pulled away from her, his eyes flicking up to her tear-soaked face as she tried to catch her breath. He smiled and crawled back on top of her, kissing the salty tears from her cheeks. "You alright, baby?" he asked his free hand stroking her face with the utmost care.

She nodded and smiled up at him, pulling him down for a needy kiss. Johnny groaned softly as he rolled his hips against her thigh, his bulge rock-hard against her soft flesh. She pulled away from the kiss and her hand traveled down to touch his erection. He hissed at the contact and tipped his head back, looking at her through hooded eyes.

Without another word, Johnny yanked down his sweatpants and pulled out his cock with a low groan. She reached down to stroke him but he stopped her. "I need to feel you, almost can't stand it," he gave her a smile and kissed her deeply as he lined himself up with her slick entrance. "You ready, pretty?"

She smiled up at him and nodded wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Johnny slowly sank into her with a loud groan that he quickly tried to cover with a chuckle. Even after so many times feeling him, she was never prepared for just how well he was able to fill her.

The room was filled with small moans as Johnny continued slowly thrusting into her. His hand cradled her face with care, and he continued to kiss up and down her neck. He was gentle with her. Her hands gripped his hair, moans escaping her lips as his thrusts continued.

Johnny couldn't help but smile, he stared at her with a love-sick gaze. "You're doin' so good, baby," his words were soft, and his thrusts continued. He could feel her clench around him at the praise. Her legs began to shake when he reached a hand down and began rubbing her clit. Johnny felt her come undone beneath him. With one last thrust, Johnny filled her up with a whiny moan, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

Their combined pants slowly turned to small laughs as they held each other. Sweat clung to their bodies as Johnny grabbed a towel from the floor and began wiping her off gently. He smiled and grabbed her hand pulling her into his arms. "Why don't we shower and I can buy us breakfast," he nuzzled his face into her neck, savoring her small giggles.

--

Summer was nearing the end. The hot days were slipping away as the nights got colder. The road was quiet as Johnny drove the familiar path to her house, the long way, like usual.

“You’re quiet, doll,” Johnny’s eyes flicked toward her still figure in the passenger seat. She shrugged and leaned against the window, she just stared out the window.

Johnny frowned and moved his hand to her thigh, giving it a small squeeze. "C'mon, baby, what's wrong?" his voice was soft. Johnny could always tell when something was wrong. He felt like he spent so long just studying her, he wanted to understand her.

Johnny noticed her lip curling in a small pout as tears welled up in her eyes. Almost immediately, he pulled to the side of the road and put his truck in park, immediately pulling her close to him. "What happened, doll?" small sobs erupted from her as she buried her face in his chest, desperately gripping the fabric of his shirt. Johnny felt a familiar squeeze in his heart. He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

"Johnny...I-" she looked up at him through glossy eyes. "My family is moving," Johnny stared at her, his lips parting slightly. "And I was thinkin', I could stay and I could stay with you," she sat up and squeezed his hands, tears still streaming down her face. "Baby, I-" Johnny's eyes shifted nervously. "I would love that but you can't be around where I live, it's not saf-" Johnny paused. He couldn't let her around his family, even just the thought of that made him sick.

She sniffled and looked down at her lap. "Maybe I could just get my own place, my folks can't make me go with them, right?" Johnny stared down at her, his stomach hurt. "Johnny, I can't just leave you, please come with me. You, you could get a job up in Washington and save up for a place while I go to school," her words were jumbled and hurried, tears still streaming down her face.

Could he just leave? Leave his family? Leave his mom? She didn't understand, he couldn't just pack up and leave everything behind. Right? Johnny hesitated, squeezing her hand. "I can't just leave my family," his words were soft, almost a whisper. She whimpered as she leaned into him. "Please Johnny,"

All his life, Johnny was taught the importance of staying loyal to his family. Despite the horror, the bloodshed, and the abuse, at the end of the day family was family. He heard his mother's words echo in his mind.

"Baby, I can't," Johnny felt his own tears stream down his face, and he pulled her into his lap. She straddled him as he hugged her tightly. While he couldn't leave his family, he couldn't imagine living without her. She was the only person in this world that he felt safe with. Her devasted sobs rang in his ears, and his heart was beating out of his chest.

After a long while of just holding each other, she pulled away from him. Her face swollen and tear-stained, she looked at him. "Will you call?" She asked. Johnny stared at her, he grabbed her hand and gave it a small kiss. "I'll call,"

--

Years passed. Trying to stay in contact with states between them eventually took its toll. He knew it would. Johnny was devasted at the loss of contact, after a while he felt like he was annoying her with the calls. She was in college, meeting new people, seeing new things, and experiencing life beyond the small town in Texas. Devastation quickly turned to anger and resentment.

Johnny, once just a complicit bystander in his family's crimes, quickly becomes shallowed whole by them. When he was with her, he had a reason to stay good, a reason to desperately hold onto that last strand of hope he had for his future, now with her gone he had nothing.

Despite this anger he had towards her, he still cherished the memories he made with her. She was his first kiss, his first time, his first everything. Sometimes he stayed awake late at night, thinking about her. What she was doing, how she changed over the years. The thoughts made him sick.

Johnny stood at the counter of the local gas station. He was buying another pack of cigarettes, despite one hanging lit from his mouth. The gas station attendant told him multiple times to not smoke inside, but he eventually stopped trying.

Johnny opened his wallet to pay the attendant, his eyes flicked down to the picture he had of her, still framed neatly in his wallet. He quickly closed it and paid, sauntering off with a new pack of cigarettes and a beer.

As he was walking towards his truck he heard a small gasp and a voice behind him, "Johnny?" His blood ran cold as he stopped in his tracks, turning around to be face-to-face with his high school sweetheart. His eyes quickly scanned her. It almost looked like she never left, that she was still the girl he fell for all those years ago.

She smiled and clasped her hands together in excitement, he noted how she still had the same mannerisms. "Gosh how are you, I haven't seen you in years!" She drank in his appearance. He was more toned, his arms now littered with scars, he looked almost more mean. Though, those thoughts were quickly overshadowed when she noted that he still had the tattoo of her name on his bicep.

Johnny hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I'm alright, quite a shock to see you here, you haven't visited down since you left," he tried to maintain his composure, tried to keep his usual calm exterior but that was difficult the more he stared at her body.

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I always meant to but…still have some family down here and I thought I might as well!” His stares did go unnoticed by her. His stares used to make her feel giddy and warm and now she just felt cold. She awkwardly shifted and looked up at him. “It’s nice to see you, ya know,”

Johnnys eyes shifted from her breasts back to her eyes, a wide smirk appeared on his lips. “Yeah real nice,” he leaned against his truck stared at her through hooded eyes. “Why don’t you come back to my place? We can catch up,” he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke in the air.

She nervously chewed on her lip as she watched him. He was so different. His whole persona shifted, she figured that just happened with time but it felt off. She tried to ease her anxious thoughts, it hadn't been that long and he was still the Johnny she knew right?

"Oh, alright," she gave him a strained smile. "But you gotta drop me back off here, so I can get my car," He grinned at her. "Perfect," he opened the passenger side door of this truck for her, the same truck she spent so many nights in.

Once she hopped if she couldn't help but fully examine the truck, it felt so surreal being back in it. Her hands trailed along the worn leather seats. She looked up as Johnny got back in the car, the same grin adorning his handsome face. "Seein' you back in my truck's doin' something to me, doll," he chuckled as he started up the engine.

She couldn't help but beam at the old nickname, her heart fluttered. "Hasn't changed much," she said, running her fingers over the dashboard. "So, you still live with your family?" she asked glancing over to him as he took off down the road.

"On the property, got a real nice trailer put up," he explained, his eyes shifting to look at her. She hummed and nodded leaning back comfortably into the seat. "Ya know, I am real sorry for losing touch, I always meant to call but..." her words trailed off, a deep frown washing over her face.

Johnny couldn't help but scoff. "Didn't try too hard, I called every day, you just stopped pickin' up," he couldn't hide the venom and hate that laced his words. He still was angry, that much became very clear to her. She flinched a bit and dipped her chin down. "I know,"

Johnny sighed a bit and ran a hand down his face. "Didn't mean to snap at you, just missed ya," the grin that he had their entire interaction was replaced with a small frown, his jaw was clinched. She glanced over at him, giving him a small smile, trying to ease his mood. Her eyes then flicked to his bicep. Her name still inked in pretty letters, faded with time. "I'm surprised you didn't cover this up," she slowly reached out a hand and brushed her fingers against his rough skin. She noticed how he tensed up at her touch.

"Couldn't bring myself to," he chuckled, the grin appearing back on his face. He reached out a hand and grabbed hers, pulling her closer to him. She giggled a bit and scooted closer to him. It was almost like nothing ever changed.

She allowed herself to lean on his arm, breathing in his scent. It all felt so familiar like she was pushed back into time before she left, before anything bad ever happened between them. "Ya know, I missed you too," she said while lacing her fingers with his. "Yeah?" a smile crept on his face.

They continued down the road at a steady pace, she recognized each passing street. As they neared Johnny's place, the road became more and more unfamiliar. Johnny never wanted her around his family, she never really understood why. He always came up with excuses and she never pushed any further.

Johnny turned onto a long dirt road. Ahead of them was a fairly large white house with large fields surrounding either side. She noticed Johnny's small trailer towards the left side, tucked behind some barn. She sat up straight, tensing a bit.

Johnny parked the truck, he leaned back and stared at her, studying her reactions. He noticed how she was nervously chewing on her lip. He couldn't help but smirk.

She turned to him and gave him a strained smile. "I've never been here before," Johnny shrugged and opened the car door. "Not like you gotta meet anyone," he circled around the truck to open the door for her, offering her a hand as she hopped out of the truck.

She stood nervously at Johnny's side, her heart was pounding hard in her chest. She laced her fingers with Johnny's and looked around. Johnny grinned as she sought him out for comfort, some things never change. He gave her hand a small squeeze and led her behind the barn. His trailer was fairly new, though she could tell he wasn't keeping up on the maintenance.

Johnny tugged open the door, the smell of stale cigarettes and beer hit her face. She walked in and looked around. It was pretty messy, though she wasn't shocked, she had never seen how Johnny lived before. She heard Johnny shut and lock the door behind him.

"Like it?" she heard him ask, standing behind her. She turned to him and nodded. "Bit messy," she teased. Johnny grinned at her and shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem for too much longer," he hummed out, his hands found their way to her waist.

She found the comment odd but decided not to comment on it, after all, she could feel herself getting flustered at his touch. Johnny leaned down and began kissing up and down her neck, sucking on the spots he remembered she liked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands finding their way to his thick hair. Johnny snickered once he realized she had given in. He picked her up and laid her down on the couch.

Johnny lifted up her shirt and let out a small groan. "Fuck, been waiting so long to see these tits again," his lips suctioned around her hardening nipple. She let out a small moan as she played with his hair, she tugged on his shirt, hoping he would get the hint.

Johnny glanced up at her, before quickly taking off his shirt. She almost gasped when she saw the numerous scars littering his body. Her fingers trailed over the pink leathery scars. "W-what happened?" she asked softly, not wanting to upset him.

Johnny paused for a bit, he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her the truth, at least not yet. "Some fights, farming accidents, nothing too major, doll," he leaned down and caught her lips in a slow kiss, hoping to distract her. It seemed to have worked because she slowly melted in the kiss.

A thin strand of saliva connected them when Johnny pulled away. He grinned down at her and unbuttoned her jean shorts, pulling them off swiftly. He stared at her wet folds, almost drooling. He had been craving her for so many years now. He would lay awake at night, stroking his length to the memories of them together. Now he was getting the real deal.

"Have you been a good girl for me?" he asked tipping her chin up with his index finger. She nodded sheepishly, biting down on her lip. "Hm, I think you're lying," he began rubbing slowly at her clit. "I think you've had a couple boyfriends since me, huh?" his voice was laced with jealously as he kissed her neck.

She didn't know how to answer, of course, she has had different boyfriends, she figured he would just assume so and not say anything about it. She also took note of the jealousy, Johnny had his jealous moments before but he was so sure in their relationship, that jealousy was never an issue. Now she could hear the pure jealous raging in him.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, unable to focus on much other than his fingers rubbing at her clit. Johnny's jaw clenched, his fingers quickening their pace. "Yeah? Were they as good as me?" his fingers slipped inside of her aching hole. She quickly shook her head, a small whimper forming in her throat.

She wasn't exactly lying. She hadn't had a serious boyfriend since Johnny. Just a couple month long flings with guys who really only wanted one thing. She often thought about Johnny during those times, she couldn't help but compare everyone to him.

Johnny grinned. "Mhm, bet those college boys couldn't make you feel like this huh?" his fingers curled up into her, hitting her deepest points directly. She let out a loud moan, gripping his hair, and her legs began to shake. "Yeah, can't let that happen again, now can I?" His grin widened as he felt her come undone on his fingers.

She felt like she was on cloud nine, she was back with the love of her life, in his own place like they always talked about. She watched as Johnny pulled his fingers out slowly, licking them clean with a low groan.

Johnny lifted her up and sat on the couch, placing her in his lap. “Look at you,” he grinned pulling her down for another kiss. Her hands fumbled with his belt, tugging on it with a low whine. He quickly took off his belt, setting it aside.

She watched with wide eyes as he pulled out his hardening cock. It was just as intimidating as she remembered. He watched her reactions closely, he gave his cock a few strokes.

Johnny noticed her hesitation, his hand grabbed her neck, with a little too much force. "What you'll put out for some college boys but not me?" his voice was low and dark, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her wide eyes.

His tone was shocking to her. Before, he was always so gentle with her. "W-what?" Johnny's grip tightened around her neck. "What? You scared?" he shook her a little bit, his other hand guiding his tip through her soaked folds.

"N-No," she whimpered, gripping his shoulders. "Why are you acting like this?" her voice was low, almost a whisper, she didn't want to upset him further. Johnny let out a small chuckle, slowly sliding his cock into her. "Actin' like what, doll," Johnny wasn't stupid. He knows he's changed. He's killed and done unspeakable acts. Part of him still resented her, for leaving, after all that's the reason he's like this now, a killer.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a strained moan as he bottomed out into her. Johnny didn't give her much time to adjust, flipping her onto her back again, his thrusts becoming brutal.

His behavior was so unlike what she was used to with him. He was only rough after asking her for permission or after a small argument, but it was always discussed beforehand. Now, he was angrily thrusting in her, a deep scowl set on his face.

"You like that, huh?" Johnny's hand squeezed tighter on her neck. "You missed this cock," Johnny bit down on her neck, a loud moan escaping her lips, tears welling in her eyes. "You shouldn't like it, not after what you did," his voice broke.

She stared at his blurry figure, tears streaming down her face, she gripped his arms, trying to focus on the feeling of his cock thrusting into her. Johnny shook her a bit, causing her to gasp for air. "You don't get to enjoy this," his voice was almost a whimper.

"Johnny, why?" she sobbed, her nails digging into his forearms. She was practically begging him for answers, unsure of why he switched so suddenly. Johnny furrowed his brows, staring at her in disgust. "Just left me, I called-fuck-, every fuckin' day, and you stopped pickin' up," his voice became hoarse, and she noticed his eyes becoming glossy. "Like I was fuckin' nothing,"

His thrusts became brutal. "Every. Fucking. Day," each word paired with a harder and harder thrust. His hand still tightly gripped her neck. She almost couldn't handle it, she stared at Johnny as a warm feeling began to pool in her stomach.

Tears began falling from Johnny's eyes right onto her face, and his thrusts became jagged as he was nearing the end. "I fucking love you," a loud moan escaped his lips as he came deep inside of her. His anger came to a boiling point, he was angry at himself, angry at her.

She was not too far behind, she squeezed her eyes shut as she came hard on his cock, not even caring he finished inside of her. The sound of their combined pants filled the humid room. She peeked her eyes open, Johnny was staring at her, his face red and his eyes glossy. She reached out a hand to cup his cheek but he grabbed her wrist instead. "You ain't leavin' again," he growled out.

"Johnny...I'm not stayin' for that much longer," her eyes widened, slowly realizing the situation she had gotten herself into. A grin spread across his face. "Nah, you're stayin' right here with me, doll,"

#johnny slaughter #johnny tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter smut #bitterpotionnfics

[lelengerine]

req a renjun arranged marriage drabble please?? thank you! i love your writing so much!!

on the contrary

pairing | renjun x reader

genre | modern (?) arranged marriage au, kind of traditional gender standards being forced on both renjun and the reader, reader is implied to be fem, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 1.2k

notes | sorry this one took a while <//3 i was pretty unsure about it for a long time but i think im decently satisfied with it now,, sorry anon who sent in this req TT on another note, i still hope its an enjoyable read... likes, rbs, and feedback are highly appreciated!!

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

it’s been four months.

four grueling months living in your shared apartment with your husband and the two of you hadn’t even gone past polite greetings yet.

both of you were wed under the decision of his parents and yours who owned two of the wealthiest businesses in the country, huang enterprises and lee electronics respectively. and though it wasn’t necessarily common for families to go through with arranged marriages in this day and age, the same couldn’t exactly be said when the mere mention of your surname held so much value in the corporate world.

the coming together of your two families would ensure a strong and peaceful bond between the parties to not ruin each other over competition. it was rather perfect, or at least that’s how your parents viewed it — akin to a smart, hassle free transaction.

having grown up in such a household, you already prepared yourself for this moment, to be gifted as some sort of peace offering — and though it felt unfair to you who never even had a say in being born into the family, you couldn’t possibly raise your voice against it.

your husband probably felt the same.

huang renjun, the youngest of the huang heirs was matched to you, the sole daughter of the lees — and prior to this arrangement, you’ve only seen each other as acquaintances who met during your parents’ business dinners.

well, that’s not necessarily the worst thing that could’ve stemmed from the sudden arrangement.

that only meant you were starting on a fresh canvas, right? you believed your relationship could blossom over time, however, things didn’t exactly turn up in your favor when you remained in the awkward, contractual relationship with your husband.

you didn’t want to blame him at the beginning of whatever this situation was — neither of you asked for the arrangement to happen anyway, and yet, he never made any effort to get closer to you. you couldn’t understand why that was when the two of you were literally in the same boat which was plenty to bond over.

couldn’t he at least act like a husband to make living in the apartment seem bearable? or was it so difficult for him to show even an ounce of interest in you?

“have you talked to him about it?” your brother’s voice resonates from your phone on the counter as you prepare dinner for yourself at home just like any other day.

“no, mark. how could i even talk to him about that when he barely greets me!” you huff with frustration, “he doesn’t even look at me in the eye when talking and goes straight to his room.”

“maybe he has his reasons-” mark tries to ease you back down, yet his words don’t really seem to be getting to you.

“well if he does, then i don’t understand them at all!” you groan, preparing the small meal you made for yourself on a plate. “seriously, i know this is all for our family’s relationship and theirs, but i’m lonely… really lonely and it hurts-”

as much as you wanted to keep venting to your older brother, you hear the familiar tune of your apartment’s keypad beep from the outside and mumble a soft, apologetic “sorry mark, i gotta go.” before hanging up.

the door clacks and the tapping of shoes reach your ears. “he’s back from work,” you tell yourself, now preparing to greet him — your food long forgotten.

“welcome back home.” you greet meekly as renjun appears into view, just as you always have for the past months.

“thanks.” he replies briefly, scanning the apartment as if he’s looking for something. “is that yours?” a finger is pointed at the plate of food you left behind, questioning why the item was there in the first place.

“oh, yeah. sorry, i haven’t eaten dinner yet.” you respond back, hastily looking between renjun and the lonesome plate on the counter. “i’ll clean up afterwards, don’t worry.”

“you… should eat well.” his words were still as brief as ever, yet there was a subtle tenderness from it.

renjun was never this talkative — if you could even call a few more words talkative. it was strange, but you welcomed the foreign feeling nonetheless. it was better than experiencing another mundane day.

“yeah, i will. thank you.” and for the first time, you feel yourself smile and it’s directed at your husband. he bashfully turns away as you beam at him, “it’s nothing really…”

“i’ve been meaning to ask you something actually, if you have the time that is.” surely now was a perfect time for you to bring up your frustrations, right? he hasn’t paid this much attention to you since… well… since you got the news you were to be wed.

he briefly gazes at the watch resting on his wrist before looking back at you. “i have time before my next work meeting. what is it?”

“do you not like me?” your blunt question leaves him in a daze, trying to comprehend what you just said.

“what kind of question is that, of course i-” he clears his throat, “i mean, i do like your presence. i wouldn’t have gotten married to you if i didn’t. why are you asking?”

“because… you never really cared?” you state, bewildered by the man’s aloofness to not even know the reason behind your words. “at least… it didn’t seem like you did.”

“i- sorry, i thought you’d be uncomfortable if i tried getting any closer… i know neither of us had any say in this to begin with and it wasn’t like we knew each other much prior to this.” he gestures between you both using his finger before hanging his head low, and the itchy feeling of guilt starts creeping up your shoulder.

so he’s been looking out after you the entire time — albeit in his own way, but the sentiment seems to hold value in your heart.

“i didn’t know you felt that way.” you respond softly, not knowing what else to tell him.

“please don’t be sorry. i know i haven’t been a good husband at all, but i swear i don’t dislike you or anything… on the contrary i…” he continues to trail his words, yet they grow softer as they prolong to the point you couldn’t understand anything coming from his mouth.

“sorry, what was the latter part of what you said?” you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

he takes a small breath before staring into your eyes, and you can just faintly make out the pink tint dusting his cheeks “on the contrary, i quite like you a lot.”

“oh…” you blink once, then twice, “oh?” your cheeks start getting warmer, and it seems he isn’t the only one blushing anymore.

“not to say i want to rush you into anything other than the arrangement we already have.” renjun quickly takes back his words with a panicked expression, “you must hate me after living with me the past few months.”

“i do hate you after everything you put me through these past months but…” a chuckle slowly rises up from your chest, and renjun realizes this is the first time you’ve looked so relaxed around him since he’s met you. “i’m sure you know of a way to change that, don’t you?”

“…i do, and i will.” he smiles back at you, “but first, you should really eat your meal, it’s getting cold.”

“ah, right.” you gasp, going over to retrieve the plate before glancing back at him. “will you join me then?”

a lighthearted chuckle escapes renjun before he nods, “of course.”

#lelengerine drabble event #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

[sgiandubh]

Ugh, your recent anons, we get it, Cait is the best actress on television and Sam's the worst actor. But for the record anon, Money Monster with all the Oscar winners you could shake a stick at was not good and she was forgettable in it, Ford vs. Ferrari she was in it for 10 minutes and was almost an afterthought. Belfast obviously was the part that, while not making her a household name was a breakthrough role for her. I think Sam picked crappy movies, I think he took a lot of things because he was concerned that he wouldn't work again and it was offered and fit the schedule. Although, I liked TCND. I do like how he has said recently that he has said no to a lot of things and he understands that the next thing he picks after Outlander is really important. For you and these hateful anons (for different reasons) perhaps that breakthrough is out there for him and people can stop doubting his ability or maybe he'll stop acting and they can find something else to complain about.

Dear Decent Anon,

Thank you for a balanced feedback in this insane inbox, at last!

I am confident the breakthrough is out there for both of them, but very skeptical about haters' ability to stop hating. By now, those women need their daily fix, no matter what 🙄

Whatever he might choose to do, he will probably do it well. He's a man with a plan - always was.

I have nothing else to add to your common sense rant. You're always welcome on this page, Anon, I like the way you think!

#anon #fandom

[satellite-evans]

You've got a friend in me

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: " The important thing is that we stick together." - Buzz Lightyear

Word count: 2.199 words

Warnings: A lot of flufff

A/N: Hello everyone! I hope everyone is doing wonderful! This takes place in the same universe as my fic Kisses, so if you haven't read that yet, please do!

And a quick disclaimer, I have to say that Aria is here 5 years old, so it takes a couple of years later after Kisses.

Alright, I hope you enjoy it, guys. Love you all!

English is not my first language, so I apologize, If I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback and requests are always welcome.

Enjoy and tell me what you think xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

How many people in the world can say that all of their biggest dreams came true? Unfortunately, not a lot. But Chris could. Anytime. That all of his big dreams came true one at a time, wasn’t something he could wrap his head around. It felt surreal and uncommon, like he won a golden ticket. He just wondered what good deed he did in his life that God blessed him with greatness.

The first time that one of his biggest dreams came true, was in New York in an agent’s office. His agent told him he got the part in ‘Not another teen movie’, where he would play Jake Wyler. In Chris’ eyes, it was the first real acting gig he had ever gotten. Of course, he was in other stuff like 'Opposite sex', but he describes that as 'terrible' and not to be mentioned again. This role made Chris believe directors would see his talent in this movie and give him even bigger roles. He saw it all in front of him. Becoming an A-list actor, went to his movie premiers, winning awards. He couldn't wait.

The second time that one of his dreams came out, was when he met you.

He was ordering coffee for himself when he realized he forgot his wallet at home. He was lacking sleep from all the anxiety his new acting job gave him.

Just when he was going to tell the barista to cancel his order, you jumped in.

“I’ll pay for the gentleman, too, if that's alright with him.” When he turned to look at you and say he you didn’t have to, he saw something magnificent. Undescribable with words, glowing from the sunlight that was coming from outside. He saw the definition of elegant in front of him.

He saw you.

Now, Chris was one of those men who didn’t believe in falling in love at first sight. He truly believed that you should and only can fall in love with someone if you know them.

But he would be dammed if he didn’t find out who you were, and why he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

"Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that. How can I make it up to you?"

The third time was in his favorite city, but the place he hated the most: The hospital.

Never in a million years, would Chris think that one of his biggest dreams was about to come true in a hospital in Boston.

But here he was, experiencing the fact that you were giving birth to his daughter.

His baby girl.

Ever since Chris was a young adult, he wanted to be a father. Growing up in with 3 siblings in a healthy household, he just knew. It felt right, the idea of coming home from work, and seeing your children play with each other while your wife was working on her laptop.

It felt safe.

His first child. He still couldn’t believe it.

Aria Raine Evans.

You chose her first name, Aria, while Chris chose Raine. The most calming sound in this world was the sound of rain, according to him.

That changed in an instant when he heard Aria’s voice.

“ I still can’t believe she’s real.” He whispered in your ear while you were feeding her.

“ I can’t believe you fainted twice while I was pushing her out of my vagina.” He rolled his eyes, not proud that happened. But he knew you weren't mad. It was a known fact that Chris is a very sensitive man.

“I’m sorry, okay, but I was about to meet the love of my life and I got too excited.”

You smiled at his confession, making sure your daughter was feeding well.

“ I know honey, I know.”

And now, He found himself 5 years later, making another of his dreams come true.

He was about to show the world that he was Buzz Lightyear.

Chris would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. Premiers were always nerve-racking for him, but this time he was calmer than normal because you and Aria were joining him today at the premiere, and he had to be strong for the both of you. Chris promised himself the day that Aria was born that he would protect both of you from any harm that his fame could cause. To this day, he never broke his promise.

“Daddy, look at me, you’ve got a friend in me, daddy!”

When he turned to look at this 5-year-old daughter, while he was in the living room taking a picture of dodger, Chris couldn’t believe his eyes that something that cute was existing in his life.

Aria asked you if she could dress as Woody, and who were you to say no?

“Oh my goodness, you’re right bubba, I got a friend in you! Come here, let daddy see you properly!"

Aria jumped in Chris’ arms, too excited to show her daddy how she looked.

“ Look daddy, there is Andy written under my boot!” Chris checked and just like her daughter said, Andy was written under her tiny boot.

“Did mommy buy this costume for you? Gosh, Aria, you look amazing! Speaking of, baby, where is your mom?”

Just when Aria was about to answer, you walked into the living room.

“I’m here honey.”

You were wearing a long white dress, that showed every curve your body had. After all those years and having a child with Chris, you still looked like the most stunning woman in his eyes.

“ I showed my costume to daddy just like you asked mommy and he liked it!” You fake gasped, approaching your daughter with open arms.

“Of course he liked it, sweetie, you’re the cutest Woody daddy has ever seen, isn’t that right Chris?”

He nodded with a big smile.

“Oh absolutely, I think they should make a Woody film next with you in it, Aria.”

Aria groaned loudly. Hearing his dad talking about her acting made her annoyed.

“Daddy, I told you already I don’t want to act. I wanna be a painter!”

Hearing his daughter’s annoyance, he took her back from you.

“I know honey, I know. I’m just joking with ya. Now, is everyone ready to go to the premiere?”

“Yes, daddy I am so ready!”

Chris kissed both of her cheeks and looked at his daughter with adoration. Seeing Aria being so excited about his work makes him full of joy and love.

“Now, remember what we told you, Aria. It can get hectic there, the important thing is-"

“That we stick together, I know daddy, you don’t need to steal lines from his movie.”

After sassing her parents, Aria left her daddy’s arms and went to wait in front of the door, with dodger following her.

Chris and you were looking at each other in awe, not believing how big your baby girl has gotten.

“That is your daughter, wow. The sass she has.” He slowly walked toward you, giving his flirty eyes.

"I know, but let's talk about you for a sec. Who told you to be this gorgeous, huh?" His eyes never left yours while his hands were roaming your body, giving you goosebumps.

"Oh, stop it. You and I both know you are the attractive one in this relationship. I mean, look at you, now that you have got some grey in your beard, it makes you irresistible."

He scoffed, hating that you would hate on yourself like that. If you only could see yourself through Chris' eyes.

"You are the star in my life that brightens every tricky and dark place that I have to go through. Do you know how much I have to fight with myself, trying not to fall into the honey of your eyes? Don't you ever, talk about yourself that way. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, okay?"

You loved how Chris showed you every day the reasons you fell in love with him.

Today's reason was his kindness and how great he was with words.

He slowly reached down, about to capture your lips with his, until…

"MOMMY, DADDY HURRY I DON'T WANNA BE LATE"

"Yup, she is showing the Y/L/N in her blood, for sure."

Aria was mesmerized when you guys arrived at the premiere. Seeing people everywhere with cameras, a lot of children dressed up as Buzz, Woody, and a lot of other characters from the movie she has seen with her parents. It felt like she entered a whole new world.

"Wow, everything is blue." Not the first reaction Chris expected from her daughter, but at least she wasn't complaining.

"I know. Everything looks amazing. Aria, there are a lot of cameras inside. If you ever feel uncomfortable or the feeling you don't want to be here, you tell daddy and we will get you out of here, okay? No film in the world is more important than you."

She simply nodded, not understanding why her father sounded so scared. It was just a couple of cameras. How bad could it be?

"I need you to say it, Aria. This is very important."

She looked at you, seeing that you had the same facial expression as Chris.

"If I ever get scared, I will tell daddy and he will get me out of here. Can we go inside now? I'm getting bored."

She held your hand and walked with big steps towards the carpet. Looking behind you, you saw a shocked Chris, once again in awe of his daughter. He pulled himself together and followed you guys.

You went on the carpet together as a family, posing with Chris holding your waist close to him, while Aria was in front of you guys smiling at the camera.

She was pure talent. You had your doubts, about taking her to the premiere, especially with so many people around, but Aria took it like a champ. She was well behaved, waved at some cameras, posed some, and even answered some questions from journalists.

"We are here today with none other than Chris Evans and his lovely family! Hey Aria, how excited are you that your dad is a hero?"

She looked at Chris first, asking permission if she could answer the lady. When he simply nodded, she started talking.

" I am so excited that my daddy is a hero. But he was already a superhero. You know my daddy is also Captain America!"

the three adults laughed, making Aria very confused since she didn't make a joke.

"Yeah, that's right, but who is your favorite? Buzz Lightyear or Captain America?"

" I think Buzz because Captain America kissed a lot of other ladies that weren't mommy and he is stupid for that."

Once again, she made you and Chris laugh alongside the interviewer. But she still didn't understand why they were laughing when she didn't make a joke. What was so funny?

"Girl, you are so right. Thank you, Chris, Y/N, and Aria for your answers!"

You and Chris shook her hand while Aria just flashed her a smile.

"Thank you for your question. See you later."

After you guys walked away, you turned to Aria, giving her kisses all over her face.

"Aren't you just the cutest kid ever, huh? Who told you to be this cute?"

"Mommy, stop, please, my tummy hurts!" She kept giggling while Chris was still holding her.

"Alright troublemakers, it's time to watch the movie. Y'all are excited?"

Aria and you said the same thing at the same time.

"Aye, aye captain!"

"Alright, let's go inside."

Aria set between you and Chris in the big theatre. He sometimes looked towards her daughter, seeing if he could get a glimpse of her reaction, but it was dark and he couldn't see properly. After the movie ended, you guys went straight to the car, since it was getting late and it was almost bedtime for Aria.

"So Aria, tell me, what did you think of the movie?" This was the most stressful moment of the night for Chris. Aria's opinions mattered to him, and he took them seriously.

" It was missing Woody, daddy. They were supposed to stick together. They were buddies. So I don't know. I have to think about it."

Chris felt like someone had crushed his soul. He knew from her tone that she didn't like it. He felt so disappointed in himself, that he let his daughter down.

"Oh, I'm so sorry baby, I thought that-"

" I'M JUST KIDDING DADDY, I LOVED IT! YOU DIDN'T KISS OTHER LADIES! AND BUZZ IS SO COOL BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Chris felt a tremendous relief washing over him, never been happier that his daughter was joking. You were snickering in the passenger seat next to him, laughing about the fact that your daughter got her father again.

"You little minx, you pranked daddy again! I thought you didn't like the movie! How are you so good at acting, huh?"

He turned towards his daughter, waiting for her answer.

" I am my daddy's daughter, that's why."

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #cevans #fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x wife!reader #husband!chris x reader #chris evans fic #buzz lightyear #dad!chris evans #d #dad!chris evans x mom!reader #dad!chris evans x reader

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Admiration - S.Black

Summary - Y/N and Sirius Black are spending their time together watching muggle Christmas movies, more like she was watching and he was watching her. Even though he had seen these movies a million times he would never change it for the world.

Word Count - 512

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/N, Sirius in love, not proofread

Author's Note - Hello my friends! Welcome to day 10!! I know this is getting posted later once again but I've been super busy the last few days. I spent like 6 hours doing homework today before the end of my semester this week. When all of my work is done, I will be more consistant and on time with my posting. I hope you enjoy!

Harry Potter Masterlist

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

In the twenty-first century, there came a plethora of first world problems, like not knowing what to watch on tv, the internet going down and so on. One of these problems was currently occurring in the Black household.

“Baby, I don’t know what to watch,” Y/N whined to her husband. She had been scrolling aimlessly through streaming service after streaming service trying to find something for them to watch that they hadn’t seen before. Sirius walked into the room with a smirk on his face.

“I already know exactly what you’re gonna go right back to. Just turn it on,” He told her as he plopped down on the sofa right next to her. 

“But you always complain that we’ve seen them so many times. I wanna watch something different.” 

“If you can’t find anything now, I don’t think you ever will. Just turn it on, even if we’ve seen it a million times.” She sighed but listened, turning on her go to Christmas movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Despite how many times she has seen it, she will watch it over and over again. Sirius swears she could quote the whole movie if she had to.

He lovingly watched as his wife mouthed the words to the film as she was hyper-focused on the tv in front of her. He continued this until the end of the movie. She only looked to her husband when the credits began to roll. “What?” She giggled under his gaze, her heart fluttering in her chest as she looked in his eyes.

“Nothing,” He shrugged as he continued to take in her appearance. She had a day off so she spent it as a lazy day. She had lounged on the sofa waiting for her husband to return home from work most of the day, her hair was still messy from waking up, mascara smudged under her eyes, her body drowning in a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She felt like she looked disgusting but Sirius would disagree. He thought that she looked even more beautiful than usual, her skin glowing, her hair was healthy and her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Stop looking at me like that!” She whined as she hid her face in his chest. 

“Like what?” He questioned with a chuckle.

“Like I’m your last meal! I swear you’re more like Padfoot than you think, baby.”

“Oh shush. I’m simply admiring my beautiful wife, am I not allowed to do that?” She picked her head up, pecking his cheek and brushing off his question.

“Turn on something you want to watch.”She handed him the remote, and he changed the film to another one that she enjoyed, Elf. As he slung his arm around the back of the couch behind her, she took the opportunity to snuggle into his side and take in his warmth. Sirius had never believed that he would get a life like this but he thanked his lucky stars that he did. He would never give up the life he has with Y/N.

#harry potter #sirius black x reader #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #mauraders

[oh-saints]

airport

rúben planned the trip to end up with sliding the 4-carat diamond ring he hid in his back pocket onto his girlfriend’s finger. spoiler: they broke up instead. and now the footballer was stuck in the airport until the bad weather cleared off. lovely, isn’t it?

rúben dias x female!OC

word count: 5.6k

note: happy new year to everyone but especially my boyfriend who’d once asked if i could make something out of our first meeting (i did meet him on a plane) so here it is! [thanks for breaking my writer’s block & enjoy ruben as he’s the only one you’d let me cheat on you with.] as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read but feedbacks are always welcome!

sorry bro, the ENTIRE city’s closed until the sandstorm goes away.

rúben groaned as the notification bar showed his manager’s newest message. things went spiralling down the drain so fast in the last 24 hours, his head couldn’t wrap up which one’s reality and which one’s not. he just wanted to go back home as soon as possible and throw himself to work—the only reality he knows very much real and sane—the very next day.

but they got to have a fucking massive sandstorm on the day he was returning to manchester.

rúben’s mood went from very bad to super sour in a split second.

he wouldn’t be like this, though, if his girlfriend of 2 years said yes to him last night, when he popped the million-dollar question every woman would love to hear from him, on the very place they met the first time. it didn’t make sense to him at all as to why she flat-out said no to him and scurried off like she’d caught fire on her ass when 2 days before flying out to their beautiful destination, they’d been seriously—and positively at that—talking about the possibility of marriage.

was it too fast? nothing was too fast, at least for rúben’s standard. if she was keen on spending the rest of her life with her, as she proclaimed to be, they could discuss more possibilities of what happens in their household as they go. no?

rúben had, in fact, contacted her to come back to the spacious villa he’d rented over the weekend so they could sit down and run over this like a pair of adults. after all, it always takes 2 to tango in a relationship—whatever relationship it is. rúben was willing to apologise first for acting rash, if it was the case, and made amends to what he did but instead, he found out she blocked him on every communication channel they used 15 minutes after he sent his first train of messages post-refusal.

maybe she wasn’t ready to talk it out like a mature adult solving problems. maybe she wasn’t the adult he was expecting her to be. maybe she wasn’t an adult at all.

his head was heavy and throbbing, his heart was pounding irregularly, his breathing was shallow. he wanted to scream out whatever he was feeling inside, in hope it could lessen the inexplicable emotion and the bitter taste left in his mouth.

the sound of a crying baby from afar nearly split his skull to pieces like he was being thrown a nuclear bomb.

he should’ve listened to what his brother said this morning; to not delay his departure after such a disastrous ending to yesterday’s evening. he should’ve taken the offer of flying private his brother could easily pull off with a call, if only the idea of being confined inside the small plane alone appealed to him.

he had the luxury, why bother flying couch?

it was the very question rúben had been dying to ask himself. was the loud noise of the crowd the one he looked for to drown in all the voices in his head, the very one kept asking and blaming himself of the outcome his relationship didn’t work well? was the uncomfortable plane seat the one he was searching for to ease off the niggling ache of his heart?

wait, since when was rúben gato dias a sappy boyfriend?

he knew he wasn’t heart-broken—it would’ve hurt him even more than what he was feeling—so he knew he’d survive this. give him time to work tirelessly and it would be the same as when a smoker puffed his nicotine intake out of his lungs. quick and easy to forget. but until this damn sandstorm walked away from the surface of the earth, would there be anything to distract him? anything to make his day at least better by a miniscule?

“sorry, is this seat taken?”

rúben looked up at the feminine voice, the difference to other hushed voices in the hustle-bustles of the airport was striking. a good surprise, as he could direct focus on his brain to be towards this lady instead of pondering endless what-ifs in his head, but a surprise nonetheless.

rúben wondered how she could ask such inquiry without a hint of questioning tone; she was all smiles, borderline confident the seat across him was vacant, but it didn’t come off as annoying. she was friendly, for the lack of words, and rúben sensed she’d only want to have a seat, as the café they were in was packed with people affected by the sandstorm.

so rúben shook his head to answer her question before unlocking his phone to let his family know he wouldn’t be coming back as scheduled. but as he was placing his fingers over the keyboard on his phone, he sensed someone was watching him, it wasn’t intently but it was enough for rúben to not ignore it.

the woman was still standing in her place, her hand remained on the skeleton of the chair. the smile faltered a little, however. “do you mind, though, if i sit here?”

rúben casted a glance up to meet her eyes once more, half confused as to why she didn’t sit on the chair in front of him right away—unlike what he expected her to be—another half was confused about her question in general. rúben couldn’t recall his memory of a time someone bothered to ask such thing to him, or any other person, regarding an unoccupied chair.

and weirdly enough, the woman had asked the question with an underlying concern behind her tone. as if it truly mattered to her about what he thought; that if he wasn’t comfortable enough sharing the space with her, she’d gladly move somewhere else rather than having her presence rubbed him off the wrong way.

was him sulking that palpable to everyone else in the room?

“no, please,” rúben managed to give her a tiny, pressed smile—the best he could muster with the energy he had left—and gestured his hand to show he didn’t mind her, in hope she’d feel more comfortable around him. after all, they might be spending the next several hours face to face. “go ahead.”

the smile went up a couple of watts again, and her relief unknowingly relieved something inside rúben too. “thanks.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben thought he would be spending his spare time bored as hell but boy, did the mother earth prove him wrong.

they didn’t share any words after their last interaction; rúben busied himself with his phone, the woman straight away pulled out her laptop and a notebook. the silent went on for at least 30 minutes before he noticed the woman going mildly berserk with whatever she was writing on the white paper from the corner of his eyes. hands furious, brows knitted together, eyes blazing crazy let-me-prove-you-wrong determination, lips bitten down white.

suddenly she went deflated like a swimming tube losing pressure, sighing so hard it blew the poor paper over. eyes closed in resignation, lips pouted deeply, valour escaped her entire being. she then stared at the numbers she scribbled down for a full minute, like it’d mean something to the eyes now devoid of everything, before starting to start afresh on another page of white.

scratched couple of number, jotted something else. a dozen times with a dozen of different facial expressions before she finally surrendered to whatever it was. secretly, rúben enjoyed the mini show the woman opposite him had been presenting. it reminded him of a pantomime show at a circus—entertainment of various expressions without words—but in a good way. but at that point, he was more concerned she was going to join another baby who was wailing from another side of the café.

so he decided to buy her one of the cake on display, in hope it could cheer her up, as well as apologising for the hostility he displayed the first time the fate introduced them to each other. maybe as a gratitude on the side too, rúben realised as he went on, that she was simply existing. in the rúben’s world, where everyone and everything almost felt intrusive and overwhelming at the same time all the time as they disregarded his privacy, people rarely ever did something without a hidden agenda.

maybe it was a huge leap of faith on itself but what did he get to lose now when it felt like it had been that way since last evening?

the moment rúben slid the small white plate towards her direction, those expressive eyes flashed him unspoken confusion. he couldn’t help but wonder what else and how far those orbs could convey words without words.

“you look like you need it,” rúben regained his place in front of her once more. “i hope you’re not allergic to chocolate.”

the gratitude gleamed from the same eyes—and she made sure he looked at it—threw him off guard, to be honest. he was expecting her to say something along the lines he said to her, not puss-in-boots eyes. “thank you soooooo much! you don’t know how much this means to me,” she picked up the utensils in a rush, eyes devouring the praline cake already. “i was actually thinking of buying you a coffee or something because i can be handful when i’m working.”

she was afraid she’d disturb his peace, on top of being scared she’d take up too much of his space earlier, when she barely made noise? but before he could voice out his curiosity, she handed him the fork, already scooped up with a cut piece of the chocolate dessert.

“where i grow up, we always hand the first cut to the person we’re thankful of,” she answered the question underneath the look he threw her. it amazed him that it didn’t take her five seconds to figure them out. “otherwise it’s considered rude.”

her way of thinking intrigued rúben immensely immediately, so he decided to ride off the high wave. “i hate to break it to you but my job requires me to clean healthy until i retire.”

“what the hell…” the face she pulled on resembled a famous are-you-kidding meme he usually found on his social media timeline and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “i hope they compensate you well.”

rúben was about to throw a banter into equation but she stepped her foot on the throttle before he could. “what do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking? because i can’t think of a job that has strict and painful criteria like that.”

the footballer stared her down, a bit intensely this time in hope he could break off her character, should she turn out to be a deceit. this was one of the classic trick in the book; fake it till you make it. shockingly, she didn’t waver under his pressure and continued looking at him expectantly, like a student waiting for his professor to answer their question.

“i’m an athlete.”

it took her 10 seconds to digest he wasn’t kidding, that sports industry actually was that rigorous. she went white in aghast. “no way.”

rúben was stunned that she was stunned at his admission. “i don’t look like one, huh?”

“i was expecting you to say you’re a model or something.”

this time, the footballer couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his mouth. “is it too late to say that i model too sometimes?”

“you’re joking.”

the mirth and amusement stayed behind in rúben’s eyes as he shook his head one more time to answer her doubt. because heck, this woman deserved more than just a slice of praline cake for grazing her refreshing existence in rúben’s world.

“i’m so googling you,” the woman pulled her laptop closer, fallen papers be damned. “when you’re an athlete but you have modelling gigs already, you must be a hotshot.”

“eh, hotshot would be an overstatement.”

the woman shot him an incredulous look. “that’s exactly what a damn good athlete would say when praised. but drop your name, mister, so we can test out if it’s over or understatement.”

“the name’s rúben dias but at this point, i’m just flattered you consider me a hotshot,” and rúben wasn’t lying. he knows when a woman says one’s hotshot. “i can now rest in peace.”

“i can’t be the first one to call you—holy fuck,” her eyes enlarged so wide he was afraid it might pop out soon and dropped down to the gaping mouth. “you play for manchester city?”

she seethed an emotion he couldn’t recongise as she spelled out the name of the club he was now representing, and rúben detested the feeling already. one when he couldn’t pinpoint what she was feeling or thinking from what her facial features were displaying. “uh, i hope you’re not a manchester united fan.”

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praise the gods above, she wasn’t.

unfortunately, her ex-boyfriend was. it was how she’d come to know the world of football, including but not limited to his current club. she stopped watching when she got accepted for her job; the very reason she was flying out today of all days.

rúben learnt her name was adriana and she was a petroleum engineer, which explained a lot to her condition. the reason she broke up with her ex was due to the long distance and lack of communication. (in her defence, she couldn’t work on it because how am i supposed to search for another source of signal when i’m like one hour away from the nearest land?) the lack of signal resulted any form of entertainment to get limited, thus her not being able to watch football despite growing fond of it as the years went by. the last time she watched anything football-related was before the season 2019/2020 started off, and it showed why she wasn’t able to recognise his face.

but the work she was currently doing wasn’t something rúben regretted out of her job, unlike her ex, because he truthfully couldn’t imagine the boredom he’d have to go through if she wasn’t stuck with him in this sandstorm. if it wasn’t because of a work emergency that came up 2 days prior, he wouldn’t have discovered the world of engineering. she was forthcoming enough when he asked the details in what she does on daily basis, even went as far as showing the source of her mental breakdown earlier—which coincidentally confirmed his guess and he couldn’t contain the butterflies in his stomach for nailing the bull’s eye.

despite coming from 2 different worlds, literally and figuratively, rúben thoroughly enjoyed the endless conversations that flowed between them. it went from their jobs, to football in general, to f1 talks, to music, movies. she was genuinely curious to the healthy eating he’d been doing for years, he was equally interested about the things she did to pass time when staying on the off-shore facility or about the things she had to do to survive when a hurricane or some sorts came crashing down her unusual accommodation. she intended to download all his netflix recommendation before all earthly-pleasures were rid off, he aimed to make a spotify playlist to contend her liked songs.

when they found out the sandstorm would still be ongoing by the time dinner fell upon, they unanimously agreed to move out of the café to somewhere else where they served proper food. she needed her caffeine fix to fight the jet lag and he needed his protein fix before his trainer blew off his ears.

(lies. he did it because he wanted to take her far away from the eagle eyes that was starting to show their true form the past hour, complete with their DSLR cameras pointing at them. and away because he wanted to listen to her intently, for she could never bore her, and he’d hate it if anyone else got to eavesdrop how much of a wonderful conversationalist she was.)

she laughed when their chosen food served—she was only having swedish meatball and he was adamant on having chicken breast for his stroganoff, on top of ordering smoked salmon salad—because only then did adriana realise each of them lived off very different lives.

“i eat because i want to, whereas you…” adriana shook her head in disbelief. rúben contemplated for so long over the menu the restaurant provided because he was looking for ones that fit his diet and, in the end, adriana hadn’t seen so many greens as rúben’s plate. “i really hope it’s all worth it.”

“it is.”

with the way rúben looked at her when he said it, adriana could only pray for her life before rúben took all of her breaths away.

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“… announcement for passengers of Emirates Airlines on flight number 431B to Tokyo, Japan.”

adriana’s eyes perked up at the airport announcement, recognising it was designated for the passengers belonging to the same aircraft as her. a small panic rushed over her bloodstream, as it now dawned her how much time had passed swiftly, afraid that she wouldn’t catch her flight in time.

although she didn’t miss a bigger, more painful pinch on her heart that she had to end whatever this is she was having with rúben. she didn’t want this to be a one-time occurrence because it had been a while since the last time she was genuinely interested in an opposite sex—she’d been bereft of a figure with face she could tolerate and brain that could keep up with her to be called her boyfriend for years now—but she did realise that with them living two different lives in two different countries with thousands of miles and oceans apart, it would only be a futile attempt to ask him to try and work this out.

“that’s your flight, isn’t it?”

adriana’s eyes zeroed back on the very person that had filled her layover hours with so many anecdotes and stories from his footballing days that she felt as if she lived through those moments with him too. rúben was sporting back the tiny, pressed smile she found the first time she interacted with him hours ago but managed to vanish as they spent more time together. she hated it immediately. she missed rúben laughing and smiling so freely like he didn’t care if they got eternally stuck in this airport.

“yeah, that’s me,” adriana couldn’t help but give him an apologetic smile. she was apologetic for living 10 hours away from where he lives, for not being able to spend longer time with him; for this particular situation they couldn’t control, in general. “unfortunately.”

rúben muttered, “unfortunately, indeed,” under his breath and another pang in the chest didn’t escape adriana.

adriana couldn’t help herself; her hand reached his before she knew it herself, as if it was her second nature. “don’t be that sad, rúben,”

one moment he was pitying himself for meeting such a wonderful woman in the wrong circumstances, one moment his heart was galloping so hard at the way her tongue rolled his name perfectly. like she had known how to for so long, like she owned it.

maybe she had, effortlessly so.

“it means your flight’s coming up. you can go home, too.”

adriana didn’t know that for rúben, his now-burned-to-ashes home had now shifted into the very one rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb softly but firmly with enough pressure, just the way he liked it. he couldn’t help but wonder how her flimsy of a hand would look prettily with the ring that sat disturbingly at the bottom of his backpack.

the silent revelation stopped rúben’s heart for a second.

he must be going crazy. or desperate. or worse, both.

maybe he was indeed acting rashly to his ex-girlfriend, for jumping into conclusion she was ready for the lifetime institution of marriage when they had only spoken of it days before. he really should slow down this time around. he blew off one chance, he didn’t want second time—especially with a woman that felt so much like someone who would drape a blanket over him after a disappointing match, be it ucl final against real madrid or not, despite only meeting her hours ago.

“you know that if i could follow you, i would, right?” adriana’s heart skipped a beat, both at his submission and at his hand enveloping hers back. every inch, every angle, every curve of their hands fell together, perfectly fitting against one another, and it scared her because how could it be when their hand sizes were kilometres different? “i mean, you still owe me so many stories of your co-workers jumping off the rig for fun.”

“you can always visit me anytime for that.”

“or you can always visit me anytime for that,” rúben threw her a mischief smile, just to rile her up—and she laughed at him, pulling her hand back so she could tidy up her things scattered across the table—but deep down, he was serious. he already planned in mind to send her jet as soon as she was back on shore. “i miss you already.”

and he wasn’t lying. he hated the cold that swept over the palm of his hand as soon as her hands went back to the respectful owner.

“please don’t,” adriana chuckled at his words, hands slipping her macbook to its leather sleeve. “i will only annoy you if i’m around you 24/7.”

“better than spending the rest of my flight without a spectacular companion.”

“i’m sure there are tons of people dying for your attention now,” adrianna’s eyes signaled people behind them that took liberty to take pictures of him as if he was another of the world’s 7 wonders. he was amazed that she kept her cool the entire time, knowing the fans could be such a disturbance. “you can always pick one of the bunch.”

“but none of them is you.”

rúben harbored the tiniest satisfaction when her entire body went rigid at his words before the eyes he was starting to love slowly focused back on him. fuck speed dating, adriana was about to leave in less than an hour and he didn’t know how long it’d take him to see her again.

adriana had always appreciated when people went straightforward with her—her mother said it was the effect of hanging out with too many boys and men alike in the rig—but hearing rúben’s each and every direct take on her was a whole new level of game. she liked it, but she really needed to step up her arsenal and fast at that.

rúben’s one hell of a handsome face didn’t help to her advantage, though. she was glad she’d be boarding a plane soon because if she stayed for an hour longer, her mind would probably go astray every time she thought of a good comeback. god damn, those brown eyes that reminded her of dipping into a chocolate fondue and the tiny smirk only he could pull off and those stubbles she was itching to run her hands through and the unique accent that tangled british and portugese—they’d be the death of her.

“let me walk you to your gate.”

adriana was thankful rúben spared her the pain of giving him a reply to something she wasn't sure there was a comeback statement to that. “that’d be lovely.”

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rúben’s father always said the right woman would prove herself worthy of him the same way a man would prover himself worthy of her. he used to believe it when he was a kid but as he grew up, now entering the stardom especially, he concluded that what his father said was only applicable to the lives of ordinary men. it had always been him proving her worthy instead of the woman doing the labour her own.

however, as rúben and adriana walked down the airport towards her gates with people flocking them as they went, rúben couldn’t help but get reminded of what his father used to say. adriana took the stride with pride, embracing this ugly side of rúben’s life that people always breached and forgot he was also a fellow human with a need to protect his privacy also.

she kept engaging him in small conversations like it was another day for her, as if it was actually that easy to be around him with cameras pointing towards them. she made it look easy in the process to tuck away the reality and instead focusing on rúben and rúben dos santos gato alves dias only. the one that adriana got to know the past hour, not the manchester city’s number 3 everyone else got to see from the silver screen.

that was when he knew she was worthy of the life he could give her in the future. because frankly enough, not everyone was ready for the consequences nor did they willingly accept the baggage that came with dating a footballer playing under a name as big as manchester city.

“this is me, then.”

they had to go through almost 40 gates to reach hers, yet they’d arrived? rúben started to question the concept of time his physics teacher used to teach him. “what a short trip, i expected 15 minutes.”

adriana scoffed. “it is 15 minutes to get here, rúben.”

for once, she hated her job, too, for making her a frequent flyer to a land so far away from everyone’s reach. whoever said distance makes heart grow fonder surely had never experienced living in an off-shore rig. she hated that the very particular fact already distanced her from rúben, whose hands were now tucked in his jeans. awkward, and rúben dias didn’t suit awkward at all. not after having him around her for hours without a moment of awkwardness.

oh, how much adriana wanted to reach those hands of his again. despite the crude surface due to grazing the hardness of green grass, it brought safety and comfort to her. a feeling she’d definitely keep deep down her heart.

“aren’t you going back to your gate?”

“nah, i’m staying until i know your plane’s taken off safely.”

another pregnant pause.

and rúben hated it. but he didn’t want to touch adriana once more, for he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from purchasing a one-way ticket to tokyo. or wherever adriana was staying.

“alright then, suit yourself, champ,” adriana corrected the sling of her backpack, and rúben was glad he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to do with the tension between them both. “i’m going now. thank you for the amazing time, rúben. i genuinely enjoyed it.”

rúben could only nod, terrified of the other things that might escape his mouth so loosely. so he chose his words wisely, “have a safe flight.”

adriana smiled to his words, but rúben noticed the smile didn’t reach her eyes. she was sad, and rúben badly wanted to suggest that they should be sad together instead.

the airport announcement boomed throughout the building once more. rúben watched she took a peak of the line behind her, the boarding counter now almost deserted from people, and when she returned her sight to him, he saw resolution behind her eyes. it was then he knew he was out of time to convince her to stay, nothing else would waver her.

but before he could act upon his thoughts, adriana beat him to it once more.

fuck it, she thought inwardly. it’d be at least christmas before she could see him again—that is if he still wanted her around by that time. rúben had shot his fire, might as well shoot her own bullets while he was in front of her. so she stood on her toes, in order to reach rúben’s face, but to no avail, it resulted her to only reach a small part under his chin, full of light stubbles but his manly smell intoxicated her beyond words. she was glad she could only plant a featherlike peck there, or else she’d be spinningly dizzy.

the movement was as fast as a thunder struck but being a professional ball kicker, rúben had trained his reflexes all of his life. before adriana could notice, rúben had placed his hands on her waist, steadying her so she wouldn’t fall back on her ass disgracefully from the loss of balance, despite being caught off guard.

her hand remained on his cheek, as she bid her farewell of “take care, rúben,” but he could take the impression she’d wished to elongate the moment. so she could take in the feeling of having him under her hands, so she could take in the feeling of having him wrapped around her for the first and the last time today, so she could take in the feeling before she had to be deprived of this until the next time they met.

so he leaned in, doing the very one thing he had been dying to do. he eliminated the thames-long distance between them, relishing the liberating feeling of finally having what he had been desiring since the first time she popped up in front of him, for he wouldn’t have the luxury to do this as much as he would want to. not until the next time they met. with his year-long schedule, she’d be lucky if he could sneak off sometime between christmas and new year.

despite their lack of time, rúben kissed adriana deep and slow, like they had all the time in the world. his hands were now respectfully settling on her waist and the back of her neck, angling her to a comfortable position for them both, ever so gently yet full of passion. like they had done this thousands of times before.

her head was officially spinning around to the point of no return.

rúben was taking everything she could give, no remnants left behind. every gasp, every suppressed moan, every hidden groan, every nip, every desire. he didn’t care if he came off like a dementor sucking a soul out of another human; he wanted this, he needed this. so soft, so sweet, so adriana yet her lips had a streak of him across them now. she was now tasted like him, sweet temptation and danger, all in one. exactly like the dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

adriana pulled away first, her brain alerted her it was time to go and that she also required air if she wanted to live another day. she opened her eyes only to see his already staring at her, grinning like they were not going to different directions, his thumb grazed her wet lips that was covered with them.

“text me before you take off.”

and adriana had already planned to spend the last of this month’s earning to buy the on-board wifi. “i’ll text you whenever i can.”

with one last kiss between them, adriana reluctantly let go of rúben and willed herself to take a step towards the boarding counter.

gone was the warmth she would now associate this city with, both the usual sunny weather and rúben himself. adriana wasn’t a fan of cold weather herself to be honest, today just added another reason to the bag. she had even longed the pricky sensation of his sheer, unshaved beard underneath the palm of her hands.

being taller than average, rúben stood tall above everyone else’s head and watched as adriana’s figure slowly blended between the crowd lining up for the plane they’d been waiting for. call him impossible but even from afar, rúben still couldn’t take his eyes off her the way they met the first time tens of hours ago—doesn’t matter to him if it was the small of her back, the back of her head. it was still adriana, it was still parts of the amazing person he got to know the past several hours.

as rúben prayed for his feeling to not falter soon, that whatever they were having were not just some withering memories like summer breeze, adriana looked back to his direction. spotting the gigantic portugese amongst the crowd, still standing and waiting for her until she boarded the plane like he promised, she grinned and mouthed see you soon as if they’d meet again.

rúben took it as a sign for the universe to act upon it and not just prayed it wouldn’t be a fleeting moment. he’d make sure they will meet again, as soon as his schedule allowed him to be, because this time, he believed what people said; with great sacrifices comes great results. and he, for god knows why, believed this time adriana was worth everything he did, does and will fight for.

maybe a delayed gratification was what rúben was looking for as the answer to his initial question.

#ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fic #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias angst #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias smut #ruben dias fanfiction #oh-saints writes #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias fanfics #ruben dias oneshot

[fleuraliasave]

*OUTDATED NEW VERSION AVAILABLE HERE*

Version 4.0 Fleuralia Save File ❤

Download link down below (please read entire post before installing)

This save file uses all EP’s, GP’s (not Journey to Batuu), SP’s and some of the kits (Country Kitchen, Blooming Rooms, Incheon Arrivals, Retro Fit and Industrial loft kits).

What’s new in this update?:

Tartosa has been completely redone, added multiple new lots (beach, multifunctional square, restaurant, family home), updated other lots (wedding venue, homes) and provided make-overs for the households.

All households that are currently living in the different worlds have stories, relationships have been adjusted to fit the stories, some have sentiments as well.

All empty homes have been furnished, you can now choose to buy it furnished or unfurnished. I chose to do this for gameplay purposes (no empty homes when visiting friends that moved into the empty lots).

Added multiple clubs

Added new households

Added multifunctionality to the Karaoke bar lot in Mt. Komorebi (library, gym and karaoke bar)

Added a Photostudio to the shopping street in Magnolia Promenade.

Blair’s wedding grounds have been replaced by a Nail Salon/Yoga Studio in Newcrest

The Crawdad Cathedral in Willow Creek is now a Wedding Venue lot and has been updated with buildmode items from the My Wedding Stories GP.

Other small updates to lots that malfunctioned during playtesting, to improve looks or add gameplay (you find these out while exploring).

Current Status of Worlds:

Finished worlds: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, San Myshuno, Forgotten Hollow, Brindleton Bay, Del Sol Valley, StrangerVille, Glimmerbrook, Sulani, Britechester , Evergreen Harbor, Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley and Tartosa (NEW!)

Finished vacation worlds: Granite Falls and Selvadorada.

Finihed other lots: Hospital, Science Lab and the Police Station.

To be updated: the Magic Realm, will either be included in a future update or on the gallery (OriginID: fleuralia)

What do you get with this save?:

For my save file all lots are either completely new builds (almost all) or renovations, ofcourse created by me. Exceptions: I have added the official builds for the releases of the Paranormal SP by Dr Ashley and the Dream Home Decorator GP by Deligracy to this save, since I thought they deserved a spot. These two are therefore not my own creations, credits are given in the description to Dr Ashley and Deligracy. Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley and Tartosa lots are largely created by GameChangers. Most lots have gotten small updates, others are completely new builds by me.

All the townies had make-overs plus I added new families to spice it up a bit. Some of the townies are made by other creators, who are given credits in the description of the household.

Added plenty of community lots to give your Sims something to do (YAY!). Almost every world has one restaurant, but it also includes festivals that represent the four seasons (park lots) and a fully functional shopping street in Magnolia Promenade (toy store, bridal store and more).

I have added rental lots so you can go on vacation in more worlds. For example in Sulani, Willow Creek and Windenburg.

Other details:

As mentioned at the beginning, this save uses almost all packs (except Journey to Batuu and some kits). This means that if you download it without owning or installing most of the packs a lot of objects will disappear from the save, but if you are not bothered by this you can stil download and play in it.  

I would love to add some households in this save created by all of you! Add your household under the hashtag #fleuraliatownies in The Sims 4 Gallery, you can add a storyline and world in the description but thats not obligatory. If I respond on your creation it means that I have incorporated it in the save for the next update.

Questions and supportive feedback are always welcome, you can reach me here via a comment on this post, an ask or through a DM ����

How to make it work in your game:

Download the save file from the link below.

Drag it in your saves folder under: PC/Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves.

Change the numbers if you already have a save with the same name.

It should now show up in your game as: Fleuralia Save Version 4.0.

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

!!Don’t re-upload or claim as your own!!

Future updates will follow after each pack release (if it includes a world). The time the update will be uploaded after each release depends on how much I have to change and on my work schedule around that time.

Last but not least, enjoy and till next time! XX

Fleuralia

#fleuraliasave #fleuraliatownies #fleuraliasaveversion4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 save file #save file