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beybaldes · 10 months

Text

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Roy Kent × Fem!Reader

word count: 9.8k

summary: jamie tartt once told you Roy needed someone to show him it was okay to be soft; Roy has found that person in you

content warning: spoilers for the plot of 'the couple next door' by Shari Lapena, tooth rotting fluff with the whole Kent bloodline and the Richmond boys, neither reader nor Roy has parents because I said so, allusions to smut but basically non written.

masterlist

a/n: this is technically a part 2 to my fic ‘it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know’ but can 100% be read as a standalone fic!! Thank you for all the love on the first part I acc can’t believe the amount of love and support it received 🥲🥲

"Hey, hot stuff." Your hands came to rest against Roy's shoulders, squeezing, then moving slowly across his collar bones and down his chest, coming to rest connected just above his heart. A featherlight kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear, and then another behind his ear, followed by a trail of quick kisses down his neck until your face was buried in the crook of it. "How's your book?"

"Fucking great." Roy answered back, voice low and mellow, maintaining the peaceful atmosphere in your living room.

Ever since you'd moved in together a year and a half ago, your entire house had become a sanctuary for the two of you. Roy's new position as manager made it so that even though you worked together, you saw much less of each other during the workday - mainly because it wasn't at his leisure to go in and out of your office all day any more. Even if you did spend every minute of every day around each other, you knew you could never get sick of Roy; you'd become quite the experts at communicating how you were feeling and what you were thinking, especially since every time he tried to keep you out, you would figure it out anyway.

"I mean, I've had my theories throughout about who did it, but I'd never have guessed this." Roy missed your touch as soon as you let go of him, reaching out so that he could hold your hand in his tightly while you walked around the couch to take a seat by his side. "I thought surely, what, with the husband having the affair he did it - and I was half right, the husband staged the kidnapping."

"I knew something was up with him!" You gasped, wrapping your arms around Roy's waist as you curled into his side, the hand that had just been holding yours pulling his blanket to cover your lap then moving to rest across your shoulders. "How was the husband involved? He didn't hurt the baby did he?" He used the palm of his hand to press your head against his chest, tucking your hair back behind your ear and then moving his hand to rest against your bicep, scratching his fingers gently into the exposed flesh there. "Oh my god, he didn't, like, get rid of it so he could be with the neighbour did he?"

"Slow down, slow down," Roy shushed, folding the corner of the page he was on, something so close to the end of the book you could count the pages if you tried. He pressed a chaste, warm kiss to the crown of your head, placing the book down beside him on the couch. "Let me explain, Angel." Roy's other hand, now free from holding the book, cradled your chin gently, tilting your head up so he could press a tender kiss to your lips. "So Anne's dad-"

Another gasp slipped past your lips. More then anything, you wanted to let Roy explain the plot of what he'd been reading, but his nightly updates had kept you on the edge of your seat. Despite not having read a single page, apart from the 2 chapters you read aloud to Roy earlier in the week when he was feeling a little under the weather, you were completely and utterly enthralled; desperate to know how it ended. Besides, this daily discussion was the highlight of your days. No matter how good or bad your day had been, if you'd gone out of your way to ignore each other or talked nonstop: Roy still talked and you still listened. "What did Anne's dad have to do with it?"

"You'll see." He chastised, pressing a kiss to the tip-of your nose before continuing with his explanation. "Marco assists in kidnapping the baby, why? Because his business is going out of money and he plans on faking a ransom note for asking for the exact amount of money he needs to pay up to save his business." Roy slid his hand under the blanket, pulling your legs up and into his lap as you brought your head up from against his chest. Threading your fingers through his hair, you looked at him confused. "Anne's parents are rich, remember? But they won't give him the money so he stages this kidnapping to force them to pay the ransom."

"No." You gasped, you hand clapping against your mouth. "Why wouldn't they give their son in law the money? They do know it directly affects their daughter and grand-daughter, right?"

"They won't give him the money because they don't like him, so get this, the guy who convinced Marco to stage the kidnapping was hired by Anne's dad." Roy laughed at the gasp you let out, you completely enthralled with the story and him completely enthralled with you. He always was. "Anne's dad staged the whole thing because he wanted Anne and Marco to split up. And just when you think everything's okay because they got the baby back; Anne murders the neighbour because she had been having an affair - with Anne’s dad.”

You were practically jumping in your seat.

Sometimes you wish you had the same amount of patience as Roy so you could actually sit down and read with him. Most of the time, however, you were more then happy to listen to him passionately talk you through what he was reading, were happy to watch that wonderful smile you loved so much curl onto his lips.

"But!"

"But-" you repeated after Roy, pressing a kiss to his cheek, urging him to hurry up with his ending; you were waiting to hear it.

"But, Anne doesn't remember killing the neighbour, so there is this whole unreliable light cast on the whole story; it might not have even happened!" Roy expected to find you staring at him in shock, some commentary on what you think happened on the tip of your tongue, but it never came.

Instead, he found you staring at him with complete adoration, like you'd watched him mould the galaxies in his hands, hang the stars in the sky and spin the world on his fingernails. To you, he did, he really did. You leant forward a little, using the hand that you'd tangled in Roy's hair to pull him closer to you so that you could press your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tender, something that Roy, ever intense, had really come to enjoy through out your relationship; you brought out this entirely different side to him that he wasn't even sure existed until he met you.

"I love you." You murmured against his lips, going in for another quick peck before you pulled away, gracing him with the sight of a smile. "I love how passionate you get when talking about the stuff you love, and that smile - ugh that smile, Roy - you're killing me here."

Roy was certain he was doing the right thing. So certain, in fact, that he'd bought the ring the day you got together: Phoebe's accusation in your living room that you were getting married telling him everything he needed to know. The life Roy had dreamed of was right before him, all he had to do now was take it. "Marry me."

"What?" The hand that had began to caress his cheek as you kissed and the hand in his hair stilled; your entire body stilled in fact, and as quickly as he'd become confident enough to ask the question, he'd become nervous again.

"Fuck, what I meant was; will you marry me?" Roy shuffled underneath you, pulling out a ring box from somewhere behind him, though you weren't sure where considering you knew his pyjama bottoms didn't have pockets. "I'm not the kind of guy for a big speech thing, but I wish I was because you fucking deserve that kind of thing. You deserve a lot more then I can ever give you, actually, and yet you still love me day in and day fucking out. I'll admit, sometimes I don't get why you do."

"Roy..." You whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as you moved both of your hands to cradle his face.

"But you do. And I'd truly, really, be the luckiest man in the world, if you would marry grumpy, old me." Tears had formed in Roy's own eyes, the pair of you totally overwhelmed by the intimate and tender moment. You'd never been more in love with Roy then right now. "Please fucking say yes, I'm an absolute mess without you"

"Yes, please." You whispered, hands still cradling Roy's face even though your eyes remained on the ring in front of you. It was as if he'd peeked inside your brain and made the perfect ring; it was simple yet elegant and entirely you, it was really perfect. This time, you answered louder. "Please, yes."

You pulled Roy's face to you, pressing a firm and hot kiss to his lips. You let your hands leave his face, sliding up and over his cheekbones until you reached his hair, twisting your fingers into it and pulling him even tighter against you, deepening the kiss as you did. "A million times yes, Roy, yes, yes, yes." Tears had begun to freely flow down your cheeks, though there was not an ounce of sadness to them. You were insurmountably happy - over the fucking moon. "I'd say yes in every fucking language in the world if I could. I love you Roy." You bit your lip back between your teeth, trying to contain your smile since your cheeks burned. "Mrs Kent." A giggle slipped past your lips. "That's me."

"Fuck yeah, that's you." Roy growled, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to your lips. His grip in your hair allowed him to tilt your head back slightly, giving him the perfect angle to push his tongue past your lips with a tug of his hand on your hair. If he had already put the ring on your finger, he'd have picked you up and taken you to bed then and there with the moan you let out. "Now, Mrs Kent, you going to let me put this ring on your fucking finger or what?"

~*~

You were thankful Roy had proposed on a Friday night; not only because that meant you didn't have to worry about how late he kept you up or how quickly you needed to regain the ability to walk straight, but because it gave you the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday to figure out how to tell your friends. Phoebe and Molly were coming over for dinner later that night, but you had a slight feeling you weren't actually going to have to say anything to them - you had no doubt Roy had consulted Molly over it, and Phoebe, well, you just knew she'd pick up on it the second she saw you.

"C'mere." Roy groaned beside you, not giving you the chance to move yourself before he was wrapping one arm around your waist and the other under your thigh. He slid you across the bed with ease, years of training still paying off despite the fact he hadn't played on a pitch in nearly 4 years now. Placing the leg he'd grabbed over his own leg, he pulled you flush against him, chest pressed to chest. "Good morning, Angel, sleep good?"

Roy's voice had a deeper edge then usual to it in the morning. "Always do when I'm with you, Handsome." You purred, gently scratching your fingers against his chest. "Although I've got this awful kink in my neck, must’ve slept funny."

"I can think of a few other kinks you've got." Roy murmured against your shoulder, pressing open mouthed kissed along it and up your neck. When he nipped at the sensitive skin just under your ear, you pushed yourself away from him, not out of want, but out of necessity.

"We've got guests in a few hours, remember?"

"I can do a lot in an hour alone." Given how late the two of you had been up doing things, you'd slept in till lunch, but that didn't make the sound of sleepy and slow morning sex with Roy any less appealing. God, the thought of it alone had you wanting to cancel everything ever and stay here forever.

"Hmm, that you can do." Pulling his head out of the crook of your neck, you pressed a kiss to his lips, tangling your hands into Roy's hair and trying impossibly hard to get even closer to him. "Show me what you got, coach."

A growl rolled out of Roy's throat and he was quick to get started on his own assault of your lips, fully using the position he'd pulled you into to his advantage.

~*~

After everything the two of you spent your early afternoon doing, you only had 2 hours to make sure everything was ready for when Molly and Phoebe showed up, and since your cooking skills ended at turkey dinosaurs and pizza, you left most of the work down to Roy. He let you help prepare ingredients, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand guiding your hand to cut things a specific way. But when the time came to actually cook the meal, he guided you out of the kitchen, encouraging you to go and get ready with a soft kiss; one to your cheek and another to your temple.

When you'd showered and gotten ready, you made it your turn to kick Roy out of the kitchen, promising not to touch anything unless he asked you to. You made sure to set the table all nice and proper for Phoebe and Molly's arrival, still slightly starstruck by the actual use of the dining table and not just eating dinner on your couch like you'd become so accustomed to before you and Roy moved in together. Sometimes though, especially when Phoebe stayed over, you'd all eat dinner together on the sofa, spy kids playing in the background, for old times sake. And before you knew it, you'd heard the knock at the door.

Swinging the door open, you knelt down immediately, sweeping Phoebe into your arms and hugging her tightly. With her head tucked in between your shoulder and neck, you stuck out your left hand at Molly, wriggling your ring finger enthusiastically. Phoebe squealed your name, wrapping her little arms tightly around your neck; even though you'd seen her two days ago when you picked her up from school, she still missed you as much as if she hadn't seen you for a million years.

As you went to stand back up, phoebe kept her grip on your neck, a silent plea for you to pick her up. Even at 9 years old, she still loved being paraded around in your arms, taking full advantage of your love for her and her love of being close to you. You pulled Molly into the house by the hand, kicking the door shut with your foot and leading them to the kitchen, where Roy was finishing up dinner.

"Hi, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe opted to stay in your arms instead of wiggling out of them to give Roy a 'hello' hug, knowing he was busy cooking and shouldn't be interrupted.

"Hey Phoebe, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes, okay? Why don't you go and grab your phoebe mug from your room before we all sit down?" When you and Roy moved in together, it was a unanimous decision that Phoebe needed her own room in your house; and when you were moving her things from Roy and your separate houses into your new house you got her a 'phoebe mug' as a housewarming gift. It was a bright pink ceramic mug, her name written once by you on the front and once by Roy on the back - it was the only thing she would drink out of when she was at your house.

The second phoebe had slipped out of the room, you turned to Molly with a squeal, the two of you grabbing tightly onto each other and jumping around the kitchen. Roy watched fondly as the two of you gushed over the ring Molly had already seen a thousand times. She took your hand in hers, running her finger over the ring with a featherlight touch, tears filling her waterline. Molly grabbed your hand and pulled it over her shoulder, hugging you again, though this time more tenderly, more teary-eyed.

"I'd say welcome to the family, but I think you've been a part of it since the day you met Phoebe." Tears began to fill your own eyes at the words she whispered against the shell of your ear. "You make him so happy, so, so happy, and that's all I could ever want for Roy. It's all I ever way for you." Molly pulled away from the hug, wiping her thumb under your eye as your tears threatened to spill over. "He loves you. We all do. I love you."

"I love you too, Molly." Just as quickly as she'd pushed you away, you pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly as though it would convey everything you were feeling. It did.

At the sound of feet running down your hallway, Molly jumped away from you, quickly wiping at her own eyes before turning to face her little girl. She gently took the mug from her hands and passed it to you, ushering her to the dining table while you and Roy plated up.

"What did she say to you?" Roy asked, knocking his hip against yours as he he started putting food into each plate.

You pulled Phoebe's favourite cordial off your shelf, pouring some in then moving past Roy to get to the sink to dilute it. "Nothing." He couldn't see the smile that formed on your face as you thought on what your future sister in law had said to you moments prior. "Just that she loves me, she loves you. That she's happy for us."

Roy wrapped an arm around you from behind as he came to join you at the sink, leaning past you to put his cooking tongs in. "I can't wait to see Phoebe's reaction." Roy murmured against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss there then spinning you around to face him. "She absolutely adores you. She's gonna be over the fucking moon."

"Not more over the moon then me." You pressed another kiss to his lips, making sure to keep the cordial far away from you and Roy incase it spilled.

Roy turned his back on you, picking up two of the bigger plates. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh really?" You asked, picking up the final big plate and Phoebe's smaller own. "I get to marry the love of my life and be officially related to some of the people I love the most. I think I win."

"We'll see." With one last kiss the two of you headed towards the dining table, all four of you tucking into dinner and telling each other about your weeks like clockwork; though you and Roy refrained from one pretty big event till after dinner.

When your food was all finished, you'd given Phoebe a bigger bowl of ice cream then usual, immediately prompting her to be suspicious. "Either I've been really good at school this week, or you guys have done something really bad."

"It's not like that Pheeb's, we're actually celebrating." Phoebe's head perked up at that as she mentally checked it wasn't anyone's birthday, or 'uncles day,' or Mother's Day, or 'future aunties day' (as she'd dubbed it) and she'd forgotten. When she ruled that she definitely hadn't forgotten anything, she turned to you in wait.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Me and your uncle Roy-"

"Holy shit." Smiles crept on all three of your faces as Phoebe pieced it together in her mind. "Are you getting married? Please tell me you're getting married?"

"Are getting married." As you brought your ring adorned hand up for her to see, Phoebe burst into tears, jumping off of her seat and running around to the other side of the table where you and Roy sat. She was quick to climb into Roy's lap, wrapping one arm around each of your knecks to pull you into a hug.

"This is the best day of my life." She whispered, her words coming out in a whine as she tried desperately hard to keep her tears in. "Do I get to be a flower girl?"

"Of course you get to be the flower girl, what kind of fucking question is that?" Roy scolded though a smile remained on his face, you wouldn't have anyone one else as your flower girl. Your niece was barely walking and besides, not that you'd ever admit it with them present, but you much preferred Phoebe to any blood relative you had.

Phoebe's face turned into a frown at Roy's words. "You owe me £1, uncle Roy."

"After the S-bomb you dropped before? I think we're even."

~*~

When Monday rolled around, you were extremely nervous. It wasn't that you thought any of the people at Nelson road would react badly to your engagement, you knew non of them would, you were nervous in the way you are at 8 years old on Christmas Eve - in a giddy way when you can't wait for what you feel to be shared.

You'd come up with a plan in bed the night before - announce it to Beard first, then to the boys, and then you'd make your way up to Rebecca's office to announce it to her, Higgins and Keeley (who'd you thankfully knew would be at the dog track this morning for a meeting).

To execute step 1 with no interruptions, you made sure to arrive an hour earlier to work then you usually would - knowing that Beard liked to show up early and the boys would show up as close to practice as they could get away with. Just as you expected, Beard was alone in the office, only a couple of other people in the building at all, making for an easy entrance.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you two showing up earlier then you ever have in the 5 years I've known you." Beard asked, his feet perched high up on his desk and an open book dropped against his chest.

"I needed to ask you something, actually." Roy wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, silently encouraging you to ask what you wanted to ask.

"Fire away, Katniss."

"I actually wanted to ask, um, well, if you'd walk me down the aisle?"

Beard stilled, then took a shaky breath, then stilled again. He slowly picked up the book from his chest, dog-eared the page and swung his feet down from his desk, standing and crossing the room so that he could stand in front of you. "You, you-" Another shaky breath. "You want me? Me? To walk you down the aisle?"

"Yeah. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a father and-"

Beard pulled you into a hug, something he'd never done before, and tentatively wrapped his arms under yours, pinning you against him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and though you'd never been a big fan of the scent, you found right now that you'd happily bask in it forever. "Yes, of course I will, it'd be an honour."

No further words were exchanged between the two of you until he pulled away, quickly wiping at his eyes before turning to Roy with a scowl. "I can fight, just so you know." He took a step closer to him, and you swore you'd never seen Roy so afraid as when Beard stuck a firm finger in his chest. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." Then he retreated to his chair, picking up his book and replacing it against his chest. "So when were you thinking? I always thing spring is the best time for a wedding."

The three of you discussed everything from what date you were thinking to ideal song choices while you waited for the changing room to fill up, wanting to make sure everyone had arrived before you shared the news. When Roy had done his 6th head count and found everyone had arrived, he nodded towards the door, asking if you were ready to go and tell everyone. You nodded, letting Roy lead the way and hanging in the doorway of the coaches office until Beard was at your side.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know. He's never hurt me once, I don't think he's going to start now."

Beard folded his arms across his chest then nudged you gently in the side as the the two of you came to stand next to Roy, him shouting 'whistle,' silencing the changing room. "Hey, that's what dads are for."

"Before I start, someone grab Nate and Will from the boot room." Jamie, being closest to the boot room, dashed in and right back out, Will and Nate right behind him. "Right. Angel, the floor is yours."

You thanked Roy before turning back to the boys, all of them waiting anxiously as they waited to see what you had to say that was so important Roy had even called Will and Nate out. "I need to know if you're all available next June - we're talking the end of June, early July." Thankfully, your job at Richmond often required planning things far in advance, even if far in advance was a year away, so no one expected anything as you started to speak. "I know it's the off season but I need you all here, in Richmond. Especially Colin."

"Why especially me?" Colin asked, one hand nervously wringing the other.

"Because I absolutely refuse to get married if my man of honour won't be able to make it."

The whole changing room erupted into a chorus of gasps, quickly followed by cheers and players and kitmen alike swarming you and Roy with hugs and cries of congratulations - which, for once, he actually entertained.

Colin was the first to reach for you to pull you into a hug, his hands shaking as he did. "You really want me to be your man of honour? At your wedding?"

"Of course I do, Col." It didn't get any less tearful asking people to be apart of your wedding. "Your my best friend. I love you." No sooner then Colin had pulled you into another hug had you been torn out of it, by a very excited Jamie.

"I can't fucking believe it me. Well, I can actually, but I also can't." He pulled you in for an even tighter hug then Colin had, probably down to the fact he had more excitement then nerves coursing through his system. "Feels like yesterday me and Phoebe were sat on your couch convincing you Roy did love you, and now look at yous."

"Will Phoebe be at the wedding?" Isaac had spun you out of Jamie's hold and into his, keeping one arm around your shoulder as he spoke to you. "Cause I don't want to be the only person eating the turkey dinosaurs; there will be turkey dinosaurs right?"

"Of course there will be, Isaac." Will pulled you out from under Isaac's arm and into a sweet, although brief, hug. "Right? Otherwise I might have to RSVP no."

"Im sure it can be arranged, what, with all of Roy's footballer money." The two laughed at your words, though a certain footballer turned coach found them more amusing.

"All my footballer money, huh?"

"I hope the fact I'm only marrying you for your money doesn't make you want to call off the wedding." You teased, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Roy's neck.

He pressed a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, ignoring the teasing shouts and cheers from his team. "Hmm, you're lucky you're cute." Roy pressed another kiss to your lips, paying no mind to the curious stares of the team around him. Though when they began to linger for a minute too long, he pulled away from you with a sigh. "Right, 50 laps, all of you." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "Now!"

Roy intertwined his fingers with yours, waving a goodbye to Beard but promising to be back before the boys had finished their 50 laps.

Keeley had reacted just how you expected her to - with many screams and squeals and a tight hug that nearly knocked you off the ground. Rebecca and Higgins were much more reserved in their responses but each offered a hug and a congratulation's to the happy couple. Roy kept your fingers intertwined the whole time, squeezing your hand tight each time someone reached out for a hug but putting up with their love otherwise.

You couldn't wait to marry him.

~*~

Knowing that the off season would start around the beginning of June, you'd decided early on the last week of June was the perfect time for the two of you to get married. And while the end of June was still a month and a half away, you were seriously considering calling the wedding off.

When you'd found out you were pregnant in February, you knew you had to keep it a close secret until you'd finished the first trimester, just incase anything happened to you or the baby, and each week since you'd found out you kept swearing to yourself you were going to tell Roy. You still hadn't. Which brought you to right now, where you were crying on the floor of your ensuite bathroom at the dead of night, at just over 12 weeks pregnant and a baby bump beginning to show.

Given the cold weather of early spring you'd kept it hidden pretty well so far, but with the progressively warmer weather, it was getting harder and harder to hide. Above that, you were now very much aware that since the baby bump had appeared, it was only going to get bigger - and you were in absolute tears over wether or not you were still going to fit into the outfit you'd picked. While your choice of outfit for your wedding wasn't anything extravagant, it made you feel extremely pretty, and hugged you in just the right way - it wouldn't if you were four months pregnant and with a baby bump that you felt was the size of Saturn.

One particularly loud sob had you clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping and praying to anything out there that Roy hadn't heard you. You didn't want him stressing, especially when you were crying over trivial things considering the life you'd always dreamed was within your grasp.

Roy's eyes blinked open though he wasn't entirely sure why, however, when he rolled over and attempted to wrap his arms around you, he was met with cold and empty sheets. The cool feel of the sheets beneath his fingers had him shooting awake; clearly you'd been out of bed a while, and considering it was pushing 2am, his first thought was that you were sick. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

Slowly, he made his way towards your en-suite bathroom, rubbing at his eyes to get him to wake up quicker. Pushing the door open, his entire being froze at the sight of you crying on the bathroom floor, him immediately falling to the ground next to you and pulling you into his lap. One hand brushed your hair out of your face while the other cupped the back of your head, pressing it into the crook of his neck. "It's okay Angel, I'm here, I'm here."

It took Roy roughly 15 minutes of rocking you gently in his arms and whispering soothing words into your hair before your sobs calmed down enough that you could talk without your words turning into a whimper. "C'mon Angel, talk to me." The way Roy oh so gently cradled your face had tears springing to your eyes again. "Or is it about me? Do you want me to call Molly? I'm sure she wouldn't mind-"

"No, it's about me." A fresh set of tears were rolling down your cheeks, but the heaving sobs that had been coming from your chest before ceased. "It's me, I've ruined everything."

"Angel..."

"I just wanted to wear a nice fucking outfit on my wedding day, and I can't, and its making me so sad it's stupid." Roy's thumb continuously wiped at the tears that were furiously running down your cheeks. "And it makes me even more sad because, because, I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm sad over something stupid like what I can wear."

"It's not stupid, Angel face." Roy murmured against your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin familiar and comforting. "Nothings stupid if it makes you so upset. Just talk me through it, yeah? Why can't you wear what you picked? Did it get damaged or something?"

"No, no, it's fine, it's just- it won't fit me anymore." Roy pressed a kiss to your temple, immediately spouting words of reassurance that it would still fit you and if it didn't he'd hire the best tailor in the world to make it fit and that regardless, you'd look incredibly beautiful no matter what you wore. You shook your head gently. "It's not that Roy, it's, I'm-"

You readjusted yourself in Roy's lap, turning so that your legs were either side of his, caging him in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking down at the bump you could just see through one of Roy's old jerseys you'd fallen asleep in, while you avoided his concerned gaze. "It's not going to fit me anymore, because I'm pregnant, Roy."

Silence filled the bathroom.

When you finally gained the courage to look up at Roy, tears were pooled in his eyes, that wonderful smile of his making the most tender appearance you'd ever seen. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, mumbling the two words over, and over, and over again. "You're pregnant."

Before you could ask Roy if he was okay, he was pressing his lips to yours, allowing the tears to fall from his eyes though without the noise of a sob. He simply kissed you over, and over, and over again, only pulling away when he could no longer contain the smile that what pulling at his lips. Your hands cradled his cheeks, wiping away each tear gently with the pad of your thumb. "I can't believe I'm crying." He scoffed, though didn't move away from to ur touch as you continued to wipe away his tears.

"If it makes you feel any better, I find the vulnerability of it incredibly hot."

One of Roy's hands moved from the side of your thighs to cup your cheek, pushing hair back behind your ear as a watery smile took over his face.

"You know," Roy paused, tenderly running his fingers up and down the side of your neck as his hand slipped down from your cheek to hold you there. "If you'd come to me 5 years ago, back when Ted and Beard first started, and told me in 5 years time I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of? And, with the gorgeous woman from the office outside the changing rooms? I would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off." After a moments thought, he added. "I probably wouldn't have let anyone get close enough to me to tell me that in the first place, to be honest."

"Look how far you've come." You mused, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of Roy's neck as his tears slowly stopped. "Some might say that I've made you go soft.”

Roy laughed, head tilted back against the bathroom wall as he was prevented from throwing it back further. The tilt of his head upwards granted you the perfect position to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled at you softly, bringing his hand forward from the side of your neck so that he could cup your jaw. "To be loved, is to be changed." He hummed, his chest tightening as tears filled your eyes once more.

"I love you, Roy." You whispered, as though even saying it would break the sincerity of the words slipping from your lips. Although you'd said them a thousand times, it was like Roy was hearing it for the first time all over again. "Like I really, really love you Roy." Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. "So much... so much so that I feel like I'm never going to be able to express it enough, like if I don't get it out of me, I might die."

Roy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, sliding his hand back up your jaw and under your ear, tangling his fingers in the hair there. "I love you too, more then i ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.” Roy leaned in for another kiss then pulled away with a smirk as you ground yourself into him. "Want me to show you how much I love you, yeah?"

"Definitely."

Roy put his hands back to their original place under your thighs, slowly moving the two of you from your position on the bathroom floor to standing once more. When he was standing, you held in his arms with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you continued the clash of tongue and teeth you'd started moments again. However, before he could get started on showing you just how much he loved you, you leaned away from him, eyes running over his whole face. "You might have to hold off on doing that thing with your hips, y'know, because of the baby."

"I'll stop doing that when the doctor tells me to stop."

~*~

Fortunately for you, at your next check up the following Thursday, the doctor gave you the all clear - on the health of the baby and the fact Roy could continue working magic with his hips. Considering you were nearly 14 weeks along, the ultrasound technician had offered to let you know the gender of the baby, but both you and Roy had agreed that you didn't want to know. You so seriously didn't want anyone to know, in fact, that Roy made a show of ripping up the envelope that contained the baby's gender right in front of the ultrasound technician after she offered it out to you; her suggestion of a gender reveal dying on her tongue.

Roy had been nothing but attentive since he'd found out; moving at your beck and call even more then normal, so much so that people around Nelson road were beginning to notice.

"Alright, what's going on?" The second Roy left your office, Isaac, Colin and Will crowed into the room, locking the door behind them. If you weren’t such a veteran of their shenanigans, you'd be getting concerned. "Are you dying?"

"Why would I be dying?" You asked, clicking the email you'd been writing closed, giving the three lads your undivided attention.

"Roy's been following you, like, more then usual though." Isaac stated, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Weird, innit."

Before you could question what they found weird about you talking to and hanging around your fiancé, Will stepped forward, his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets. "You're pregnant, right? I'm like 80% sure you're pregnant."

Your hand came to rest against the small bump you'd concealed under your Richmond sweater.

"Holy fuck boyo." Colin gasped, smacking his hand into Will's chest. "She is. How did you know?"

"She's glowing." Isaac and Colin tilted their heads in sync while their gaze remained directly on you, as though they were trying to see what Will saw. When it appeared they couldn't, Will let out a sigh, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't know; maybe it's the lighting."

Silence took over your small office space, the four of you alternating between staring at each other and the hand that rested against your stomach.

"Angel, you got-" Roy paused at the sight before him, scanning the room with a pointed glare. While Isaac had had the sense to lock the main door to your office when he started his interrogation, it had seemed he had forgotten to lock the connecting door from your office into the changing rooms. You'd never been more thankful to be in an office with two doors. After a few more seconds of assessment, he seethed out a "Fuck! Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?"

All three lads nodded in silence, scurrying from the room after a particularly harsh glare from Roy had told them they had overstayed their welcome in your office. As your head fell into your hands due to the stress of it all, Roy crossed the room, slipping his fingers into your hair and scratching gently at your scalp. "They're not going to tell anyone, Angel, don't stress."

"But, what-"

"No buts, or what if's, or anything." Roy chastised, pulling your head out of your hands and crouching down to meet you at eye level. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "We tell everyone when you're ready. And if that's after the wedding, then that's after the wedding." Roy pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "And that's that."

You let out a long sigh, weight lifted from your shoulders at Roy's gentle touch and soothing words. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice."

~*~

You were too scared to put your outfit on. After almost 10 months of planning every detail and waking up to see your engagement ring on your finger, you were finally getting to be Mrs Kent. And you were too scared to go out there and get dressed.

When Will, Colin and Isaac found out you were pregnant, it was on accident, but going out there, before your man of honour, bridesmaids, Phoebe and Beard to put on your outfit would be intentionally revealing your baby bump. It was so stupid, you thought, to be this worried about something that would make people happy - that would make you and Roy happy. But a small part of you just wanted things to work out how you'd planned then in your head; like being able to wear what you'd picked to marry the love of your life.

However, you wanted to get married to Roy more then you cared about keeping the baby a secret.

Everyone gasped as you walked into the main part of the hotel room. You'd forgone a dressing gown in favour of getting ready in the comfort of pyjama shorts and one of Roy's old jerseys, wanting to have a part of him with you even though you wouldn't see him the night before the wedding.

Roy had actually wanted to forgo the traditional 'no seeing the bride bullshit,' him in favour of spending every second he could get with you, but Keeley and Jamie had convinced him it would make that moment of you walking down the aisle all the more special. Though as you walked into the room, you'd wished more then anything you'd convinced Keeley to let him stay with you. All you wanted was his hand in yours as you did this.

All eyes fell to the shadow of a baby bump that could be seen through the loose material of Roy's jersey; it was the one he wore at his very first Richmond match, Kent printed and worn proudly on the back. No one moved or even dared to breath.

"Surprise?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but the tense silence and feel of everyone's eyes on you had you shying away from your friends and family in a way you'd never done before. "I'm pregnant!"

Molly was the first to move, crossing the length of the room and pulling you into an embrace. "I love you." She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm going to be an auntie." Within seconds the remaining people in the room swarmed you into one big group hug. Each of Colin, Keeley, Rebecca and Beard whispered congratulations to you, telling you just how beautiful you looked and how excited they were to see you walk down the aisle. Phoebe, however, pulled the funniest face at you, her brow tense in the spitting image of Roy.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Phoebe had magically broke the tension of the room, smiles all around as Molly and Keeley ushered you back to the other side of the door, helping you into your outfit and making sure your hair stayed in the way you'd styled it when you got changed. Fully dressed and feeling yourself, you stepped back into the main room with newfound confidence.

You were going to marry Roy - Roy who updated you on his book every night and valued your opinion on it, who still brought you lunch everyday at work, who was willing to hold you on the bathroom floor at 3am when he should've been sleeping, who made you feel like you were the only person in a room that mattered - and you couldn't be more excited.

Colin held your hand the entire drive from the hotel and the whole way from the car to the church doors. Only two pieces of wood separated you from everything you'd ever wanted. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek and wished you luck before heading inside, leaving just you and Beard outside the building.

"You nervous?" He asked, moving his hand so that it rested lovingly on the small of your back.

"It's Roy." Roy always made you nervous. From the smile that had you weak in the knees when he actually decided to show it, to the butterflies the simple movement of his fingers against your skin caused; Roy had you swooning every time he looked at you. "I can't wait to get in there."

"Can you wait a second?" Ted Lasso was stood behind you, hands bashfully tucked into suit pants pockets.

"Ted." You gasped, opening your arms but not leaving Beard's side. The American rushed towards you, scooping you into a tender hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it..."

"Well, you know how Roy is, stubborn, hard-headed," Ted had aged a little since you last saw him on English soil, but he still held that quintessential ted spirit to him; even though he looked a lot more tired then you ever remembered him being. "Will do anything for the people he loves. Even if that's calling someone everyday for 8 months straight and convincing them to clear their calendar."

Roy who called one of your favourite people daily until he convinced them to make time to come to your wedding despite the fact they'd have to fly halfway across the world to attend.

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ted." He pressed a kiss to your temple, unwrapping himself from you and flattening out the front of his suit.

"I'll see you in there." Ted walked to the doors Colin had entered through moments ago, stopping and turning back to you at the last second. "You look beautiful by the way, you're practically glowing." With a knowing wink, Ted slipped through the doors, finding the way to his seat to wait for the ceremony to begin.

"Well, I think we're really ready now." You mused, linking your arm though Beard's. When you turned to flash a smile at him, you saw eyes filled with fondness, tears threatening to cloud his vision if he thought about the scene before him for too long. "Aren't we Willis?"

"Lets go, sweetheart." The pet name struck you to your core, your hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance. There was no one else you'd want to walk you down the aisle. "You're getting married!"

The ceremony ran perfectly. Willis walked you down the aisle and handed you off to Roy after whispering what you were certain was a threat in his ear. Tears brimmed Roy's waterline the whole ceremony, but they didn't spill over under you were pronounced husband and wife. No one commented on the tears that ran down Roy's cheeks, and you didn't think anyone was ever going to bring it up; a mutual understanding settling over the room that the Roy Kent that stood at the alter wasn't Roy Kent football sensation, but that he was Roy Kent, loving husband.

All those years ago Jamie had been completely and utterly right, all Roy needed was someone to show him it was okay to be soft. Thankfully, he had found that in you.

~*~

"Nell, go back to sleep baby, daddy's here."

Roy had his back turned to you as he rocked Penelope in his arms, murmuring some song that you couldn't quite make out under his breath to help her get back to sleep. In the 4 weeks since Penelope - or 'Nell' as Roy had lovingly started calling her - had been born, Roy had more then proved himself to be the amazing dad you knew he would be. Though he'd voiced his worries about not being a good dad several times throughout your pregnancy, each time you'd soothed away the worry; scratching your fingers against his scalp and reminding him of everything he'd ever done for Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the most excited to meet the baby, begging her mum to let her come over every single day after school so that she could spend time with her newborn cousin (even though that time was mostly spent with Phoebe in your lap with Nell in hers).

The Boys at Nelson Road came in for a close second when it came to being excited to meet the baby. Will, Colin and Isaac had made it their duty to show up to you and Roy's house every day after training when you were 7 months along in order to paint the babies nursery and build all the furniture that you'd bought.

They were even worse when you went into labour.

Roy had called Beard to let him know the two of you wouldn't be able to make it to work that Tuesday, and Beard loaded up the coach for a group trip to Richmond's hospital. You had the whole of AFC Richmond crowded in the waiting room, arms filled with stuffed animals, balloons and flowers. Jamie had charmed up the nurse who you were charged to, convincing him to let all of the players into your room at once. While most of the team fawned over the baby, gave you their best wishes then made their way back to the coach, Colin, Isaac, and Will asked to hold her, tears filling their eyes as they took in the sight of the tiny baby.

"She's beautiful." Colin whispered, lightly running the tip of his finger up and down her button nose. "With your parents, you're going to be the coolest kid ever. And Uncle Colin is going to make sure of it."

"You know," Will whispered, stiff as a board as he held Penelope on his arms, scared to even breath less it hurt the baby. "I remember that day I saw you with Phoebe in Tesco, and I told you I didn't realise you were a mum." Roy shot you a confused glance, reminding you you'd never actually filled him in on your trip to the supermarket that day with Phoebe. "And now you are one. It almost doesn't feel real."

"I've never held a baby before." Isaac admitted, the most relaxed holding her despite his inexperience. "It's weird, innit. Like, this baby I'm holding right now started out nothing and now she's real and alive and in my arms…Spooky."

Jamie, however, you practically had to force to hold Nell; and even then he was scared shitless. When you managed to convince him to take a seat on your hospital bed, he seemed less tense about holding her, but the ever present crease in his brow told you otherwise. "She looks just like you."

"She's got Roy's nose, and I bet she'll have his eyebrows too."

Jamie's eyes never left the baby, even as the other boys slipped out of the room with one last goodbye and a promise to come and visit Nell again when you got sent home.

"Ask us what her full name is." Roy kicked Jamie's foot, finally snapping his attention away from the newborn.

"You what?”

Apparently, he hadn't been listening, the tender tone to Roy's voice leaving as soon as it had arrived. "I said ask us what her full name is, fuckhead."

Jamie didn't ask you, he wasn't sure he could get the words out without choking up, the suggestion of the question springing tears to his eyes.

"Her full name is Penelope Jamie Kent." You hadn't seen Jamie so upset since Roy dragged him into your office, sobs wracking his body, two years ago before the journey up north to play against Manchester City at the Etihad.

He pulled Nell closer to his chest, hugging her as best as you could hold a baby, then passed her to Beard, pulling Roy in for the tightest hug you'd ever seen the two share. When Jamie came to hug you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear; "You've made Grandad go all soft." And after a brief pause. "The rest of us too."

Beard didn't stay long after Jamie left, knowing the coach was only waiting on him to return to training. He muttered something under his breath, pressed a kiss to Nell's head and then handed her back to you, pressing a kiss to yours. "Jamie’s right. Spitting image of you. Though I do agree she has Roy's nose."

"I hope she gets his smile." You quietly confessed, not missing the way Roy's lips curled up into the wonderful smile you loved so much. "We got something for you." Roy pulled out a gift bag from next to your 'we need to go to the hospital the baby is coming' bag and handed it to his fellow coach. Beard waisted no time opening the gift, a soft smile curling on his lips as he pulled out the mug, 'worlds best grandad' printed on the front and a Richmond crest printed on the back. "I love you...dad."

A tear silently ran down Beard' cheek but he didn't wipe it away, pulling you and the baby in for a group hug. After a tight squeeze, he opened up his arms, a silent invite for Roy to join. He did so without question, thanking Willis for everything.

Beard had used the mug at Nelson Road everyday since.

Nell had made a total of 3 visits so far to Nelson Road; every Thursday afternoon being the day you'd come to the dog track with her and disrupt afternoon training so that the boys could fawn over her as an end of the week treat. Tomorrow would be her 4th visit, and yet, Roy had been the one to wake up and tend to her when he'd have to be up in a few hours to coach Jamie and you could essentially sleep in until 12 and still be on time.

As he put Nell back inside her cot, you wrapped your arms around his waist and slid them up and under the front of his t-shirt. "You're such a good dad, Roy."

"Only cause you make me a good dad." He turned around in your hold, your hands now up the back of his shirt, his arms now over your shoulders/

"That doesn't even make sense." You countered, resting your chin against his chest so that you could look at him. Roy took the opportunity to press a slow and tender kiss to your lips.

"Fuck off, it totally does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

At a whine from Nell, the two of you fell silent, not wanting to wake her after Roy had just put her back to sleep.

"She know it makes sense." The two of your were looking down at Nell's tony from where she slept soundly in the crib.

"She's only agreeing cause it's you." You lowered your chin so that the side of your head rested against Roy's chest, giving you a better look at your beautiful baby girl. "She's a total daddy's girl already, you know."

"Gets that from her mother." Roy paused after he spoke, realising quickly that his words hadn't made much sense or come out in the way he intended. "I meant, she's a total me, girl. Like she loves me a lot because you love me a lot. Fuck."

"I knew what you meant, handsome."

Roy quirked his eyebrow at your response. "You did huh?" He swept you off your feet, literally, carrying you back to your bedroom with a slip in his step.

You hand slapped against his bicep, a gasp slipping from your lips as your pieced together Roy's words paired with his suggestive tone and that glint in his eye. "The doctor said no sex for 6 weeks, Roy."

"No penetrative sex for six weeks." Roy clarified, laying you down on the mused bedsheets and kissing his way down your form; starting with scrapes of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck, all the way down to the thick skin of your thighs. "The guy said nothing about oral."

an : thanks for reading this far *mwah* I love you <33 I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please feel free to send in a request for Roy or Jamie I'd love to write it!!!

#roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #ted lasso x reader

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smellrain · 1 month

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in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?

tags: written, mention of use of alcohol, slight angst. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist) <prev. part: prologue I next part: ch. 2>

notes: [4.3k] First of all: thank you for your kind words after the prologue yesterday! Very happy that so many of you liked it. There is an analysis post about this chapter here that you might want to check out after! I hope you enjoy :) & come tell me how you liked it!!!

It had been a long day at work for you. The data your boss had assigned you had taken you a lot longer to work on than you’d expected, which meant that you actually, genuinely missed your last lecture of the day. You had texted a barely-even-friend that attended the same elective about her notes but you hadn't gotten a text back so far.

Standing in front of your door now, you leaned the crown of your head against the outside of it and took a deep breath in. You had missed the key hole not once but twice now and the anger that welled up inside of you was completely unwarranted, so you knew you needed to mentally take at least one step back.

Four seconds in, seven hold, eight out. In and out. You blinked once and the dark of the wood was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Still, unlocked the door, this time succeeding on the first try.

The hallway was quiet, but you had expected as much. One of your flatmates had a nightshift at the clinic she was working at while the other was sleeping over at her boyfriends. The blissful silence you had looked forward to this morning seemed suffocating now.

It didn’t matter. It was fine like this, you were fine.

After turning on the kitchen light, you walked to your room, put down your bag and fell down onto your bed, face first. The scratchy fabric of your bedcover was not nearly as nice as the sheets you had dreamed of all day long.

For a while you let your eyes fall closed, not asleep, but resting nonetheless. You just wanted to rinse the day off of you, but you were too hungry to even think about showering.

With a groan you peeled yourself off your bed, sat at the edge of your mattress while an inexplicable urge to cry welled up inside of you. Your day had been really shitty and your were really, really hungry.

But you got up anyway and walked towards the light in the kitchen that shone through through the space of the door to your room.

The music you’d put on in the background helped but it didn’t quite scratch that itch for conversation, for company. When you saw your phone light up from where you had left it on the counter, you hoped it might be the classmate you had texted.

You rinsed off your hands to see who had messaged you.

Jack (worst Hughes brother): hey what r you doing tn? You: currently making dinner why what did you do what do you need Jack (worst Hughes brother): nothing wait why did you assume i did/need sth anyways: can i come over soon?

The shower. You still had to shower, but soon for Jack usually meant at least half an hour. It should be enough time and besides it was just Jack, no reason to put in more effort than necessary.

You: because you always text me when you need my help sure, I might be eating by then, have you eaten? Jack (worst Hughes brother): I did like 5min ago wait no ignore that, you’re telling me I could have had some of yours??? jkjk see you soon

You liked the last message and turned the heat off your stove. Shower first, you reminded yourself, even as you mourned the loss of the start of your dinner that you had been frying on the stove.

When he knocked at your door you were still sitting at the small kitchen table that could barely seat two people. “It’s open,” you said, loudly.

From the sounds you could hear him open and close the door, take off his shoes and leave his bag in the hallway. When he finally came into your view, you couldn’t help but smile. Strange how that worked, considering you had almost cried half an hour ago. Food really worked miracles sometimes. But then again he had always had that kind of effect on you, making you smile despite yourself.

“That’s not very safe of you,” he had said but he was already smiling, “having your door unlocked.”

“Hey you, fancy seeing you here.”

There was a warm feeling curling itself around your ribcage at the look at him, “hey yourself. I left it open because I knew you were coming over, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “did you watch the game yesterday?”

“‘Course I did,” you said, eyes following him as he took a glass from the cabinets and filled it up. There was something intimate about that, the ease he carried himself with, him knowing where to find your glassware and feeling comfortable enough to do so while carrying on with the conversation.

There was something in you that ached at the feeling, at having someone that comes home to you. At having someone that just feels that comfortable with you, that you live your life alongside with.

It’s not like you were lonely, you had wonderful flatmates and good friends, but there was just something different about this feeling, about this longing. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, inexplicable as always.

“Good, otherwise I would have felt stupid after my goal.”

You had seen the new ritual he did sometimes that he had been asked about by the media sometimes. He had done it a few times now, more often over this past year. He was approached by his teammates first, but then he was still for a bit, putting his hand on his chest and raising it up after, usually waving once. The warmth that had seeped into your bones crept up to your face, “you did that for me?”

The one time he talked to an interviewer about it, he had said it was a new good luck charm he was trying out.

Because of the small table the two of you sat close and his knee kept bumping into yours, but you hardly paid it any mind. It was comforting, having him here, this close in the low light of the kitchen, cradling one of your glasses in his hands.

Admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Yeah, of course, had to show my appreciation for my number one fan somehow.”

You laughed a little, “you are such an idiot.”

The smile he gave you in return crinkled up the skin at the corner of his eyes and you wanted to trace that fold with your thumb. What were you even thinking? “I know.”

So you just swatted his shoulder and got up to wash your dish. “Did you guys go out and celebrate?”

Jack turned in his seat, his body facing your back from where he was still sitting at the table, “yeah. It was a really small bar in the middle of nowhere, Nico said he didn’t want to be recognised, despite the win.”

You hummed in response. The constant scrutiny must have been affecting them all after these past few games. “Cool. Did it actually work or,” you trailed off, not really sure how to finish your question.

“Sort of, I mean we took a few pictures when we came in but it was a lot better than usual.”

“I’m glad then,” you said and turned back around to face him, “I’m glad nothing too exciting happened.”

At the word exciting his expression morphed into something odd. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore.

“You can tell me, you know you can,” you reminded him, now getting closer to him again. You were usually able to get out every last secret of his if you just asked the right questions.

“I know,” he assured you, now pulling you a little closer by your hip and resting his hand there. He had always been touchy like that, arms slung over your shoulders or around your waist, hands holding your wrist to pull you through crowds, thumbs circling your ankle when you rested your legs in his lap.

“But it’s really nothing, I just got a little drunk,” he assured you, but you didn’t really buy it.

Still, you had no real reason to press, knowing that it just made him close up further. He would end up telling you, just not now. “Okay.”

The two of you went back to your room soon after, deciding to watch a movie. You didn’t tell him that you were really, genuinely tired, because you knew he could tell. He always could, somehow, even if you yourself weren’t all that aware of it. Funny how that worked.

You sat down first and then patted the spot next to you on the bed, but for a split second you saw him hesitate. That hurt, just a bit because you had thought that the two of you were close enough for it to not matter anymore.

Still, he leaned against the headboard next to you, his shoulder softly knocking against yours and your worries disappeared at that. You must have imagined it.

“Any preferences?”

“Ratatouille,” you said immediately, not even knowing where that request came from.

He smiled, “I do like a girl that knows what she wants.”

For some reason you blushed at that, at the barely even there implication of being his. You really were going insane today. “Is that okay for you?”

“Sure,” he said, “let's watch the rat be a better cook than the two of us combined.”

You typed the website and clicked play on your screen and settled your laptop down between the two of you, one knee on each side of the bottom of it.

You were suddenly keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even own a tv, that you were watching a movie from your laptop when he could be at home, watching it on a screen that was at least double the size of this.

It was a stupid thought, so you brushed it off. He was a professional athlete, you were a college student. There was something fundamentally different about your current lives, as intertwined as they were.

The movie started soon after, so you pushed all of that to the back of your mind. At first the two of you ran a semi-steady commentary about what was going on but soon after you were both too engrossed in the story to think about anything fun to say.

When a sharp sound came from the screen you realised that you had your eyes closed. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open again. It must have been for a few minutes, at least because you weren't sure what was going on anymore.

“Tired?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

You let your forehead fall against his shoulder, this time on purpose. It was a welcome contrast to a few hours ago when you did the same thing against your front door. His shoulder was softer because of his sweatshirt and he smelled nice. Like the shampoo he used, like his laundry detergent. You wondered when that smell had become intrinsically his and not someone else's' like a friend of yours that used the same deodorant.

You kind of wanted to drown in it, but you held yourself afloat anyway. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. The two of you weren’t like that.

“Had a hard day at work,” you mumbled, a little more tired now than you’d been just moments ago. His presence did that to you, calmed you down when you didn’t even know you were high to begin with.

He lowered your shoulder a bit which made it more comfortable for you to rest your head on it. “You could have said no, you know that, right?”

But you had wanted to see him once you had seen his message. “I know.”

“Good,” he answered, as if it was as simple as that and remained quiet after that.

You tried to turn your focus back to the movie, you really did, but before you knew it your eyelids were drooping again.

Then you were woken up again, this time by Jack.

The movie must have finished in the meantime because he had moved his arm, closing your laptop. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, trying to form a coherent thought but the only thing on your mind was the warmth of him next to you, the dream that just barely slipped out of your grasp.

“Sorry,” you said.

He turned to you, surprised. “What for? If anything I should apologise, I kept watching even when you were tired.”

“You know I don't mind that,” you said. “I just wasn’t very good company today. Sorry.”

Jack knocked his shoulder against you with a little more purpose so you turned to him. “Nope, none of that. I don’t mind, I got to see you, which is all I wanted anyway.”

How could he just say something like that? As if words like these didn’t bore themselves under your skin, living there forever, etching themselves into the white of your bones.

This casually, as if it didn’t just make your heart flutter the same way it did when you were eighteen, back when you had loved him. Still, in your barely illuminated room, late at night you let yourself linger. Let yourself pretend that his words held meaning.

Let yourself pretend that the two of you were different.

You thought about the thousands of times you must have seen him just like this, in the dark, looking back at you.

It was a weird memory that came to you, just then.

Back when the two of you had first met you had been crushing hard. It wasn’t really surprising, now looking back. You had never really gotten a lot of attention by boys growing up, so when he went out of his way to talk to you, you really had no choice but to fall for him.

Liking him had become addicting.

You could still remember the moment you thought he might like you back and the very same moment you knew it wasn’t, probably ever, going to work out between the two of you.

It was at a party, after you had just graduated. You had just come out of the bathroom, alone because your friend was finally, finally talking to the guy she liked.

Then you picked up a friend’s voice somewhere down the corner, most likely from the kitchen. “C’mon your turn now. Who are you crushing on,” Aaron had said. They must still be playing a weird mixture of truth or dare and some other game you had already forgotten the name of.

Your mind immediately went to Jack, the way his hand had brushed yours when he had gotten you a drink earlier that night.

“I don't?” Jack answered, slightly laughing, but there was an air of unease in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice.

“C’mon, Jack don’t be like that,” someone else interjected, and suddenly you were a lot more invested in the conversation than just a moment ago. It was always like that when it was about him.

“There are always so many girls throwing themselves at you, surely you want one of them,” you could hear the other guy’s jealousy from miles away but you weren’t sure if the others picked up on it too.

“I’m serious, I barely have time for my friends already, let alone a girlfriend.” Jack said and there was this tiny spark of hope rising in your chest. Maybe you could change that. Maybe you could be the exception.

“True,” Aaron agreed calmer than usual. You thought he might be noticing the tension waving off of the other guy.

“There is no shame in admitting it,” the other guy doubled down, “what about that one girl? Short, brunette, on the track and field club.”

Oh god, he was describing your friend, the one you had just left with her crush. “Nah, wait I think she has a boyfriend, but what about her friend, the one that Kevin hangs out with.”

You. Shit, he was talking about you. Did you really want to hear Jack’s response? What if he said he didn’t like you? But what if he did?

“She is my friend too, you know,” Jack said, “but she is pretty, I guess.”

He guesses? That kind of really stung. You knew that there was nothing all that memorable about you, but it’s not like you were ugly. A thousand different insecurities that you thought you had worked through rose to the surface and you didn’t have the strength to push them back down.

You had to escape, now, without being noticed and without listening to anything more. Still, your ear couldn’t help but pick up on the rest even as you pushed past that guy that sat behind you in math.

“Jack, don’t be like that,” the other guy insisted, “don’t you want to go up to her and just fuck her? I mean her ass-”

Humiliation. For some reason you felt humiliated and violated. You knew about locker room talk, but you had never wanted to be part of it. Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes and suddenly you could feel every single person that had touched any part of you today, suddenly questioning if it really was accidental.

You had to get out, now. The static in your ear was loud and the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet seemed to turn it up even more. You had run away, texting the friend you came with some kind of bullshit excuse for leaving.

The asphalt outside on the sidewalk was cold, but you sat down on it anyway. You just wanted to cry. Everything seemed so overwhelming and important all at once and you had no idea how to deal with all of it.

Soon you were leaving high school for good, your friends were moving all across the country, you were so fucking lonely and the guy you had been crushing on for a better part of a year didn’t even think that you were worthy to look at.

You drew your legs closer to your body and folded yourself up as much as possible. Growing up seemed scary all of a sudden. There was that one Lorde lyric that said that too, that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Suddenly people were streaming out of the house, all at once. You wiped your tears, looking up at what was happening. In the stream of people you couldn’t make out any of your friends.

Then you heard your name being called. It was Kevin, still standing at his door. He held Jack at the others shirt collar, as if he was holding up a particularly unruly cat that had gotten in trouble again.

Your eyes must not have been red because when you came closer neither boy commented on it. “Get him home,” Kevin said and dumped a heap of Jack right in front of you.

Jack glared back at where Kevin disappeared back into the house, eyes murderous. You had never really seen him act like that, especially to a friend. But then again how well did you really know him?

A beat of silence. You really wondered what on earth had happened for the party to just end. You shifted your weight on your feet. “Do you have a car?” you asked eventually.

Jack brushed past you, “yeah. I’ll drive you home, didn’t drink anything.”

You followed him, but on the short walk back to his car neither of you said anything.

The stereo remained off all the way back to your place. After you had stopped looking at him to try and figure out what had him in this bad of a mood, you looked outside. The neighbourhood was so familiar, and the horribly sad feeling from earlier came up again.

You really needed some kind of distraction. “Thank you for driving me home.”

For a second he remained quiet and you really thought you were going to be ignored. He had always had a bit of a dramatic streak at times. “Of course.”

His expression remained scarily blank. “Can I ask what happened with Kevin?”

“Nothing,” he said, his gaze staring firmly ahead. Then, “I don’t like his friends.”

What kind of response was that? “Okay,” you tried, carefully, “then why did you come?”

“I didn’t know I didn’t like them before tonight,” he said.

Then you looked at the way his hands were gripping the wheel, specifically at his knuckles. Wait- “did you punch one of them?”

He laughed, and the sound bounced off the small enclosure and some kind of happy feeling made your heart swell, even though you had been apprehensive about him just moments ago.

It was a lot longer than your comment had warranted. You really were a bit concerned about him. Should he be driving if he acted like this? “I might have.”

Before you could ask why, because you had never seen him actually punch anyone, he continued, “in my defense, he started it.”

“That’s a shitty defense,” you said, “that just means you have to be the one to take a step back first.”

He only shook his head in response but you were happy he was back to acting like that Jack you knew. “You would have punched him too, I just know it.”

“Sure,” you replied. You had never punched a person because you didn’t like them and you didn’t think you’d start anytime soon.

“Trust me, you would have,” he said and left it at that.

The two of you arrived at your place soon after, so you thanked him and left.

The rest of the summer between highschool and college was spent getting over him, which you eventually succeeded at when he introduced his now ex-girlfriend to you and your friends.

In college you went out on a few dates, but none of them ended up going anywhere. That was fine to you, because it just meant that you were prioritising other things now, like your studies and your friends.

There wasn’t even anything all that similar between that memory and your current situation, but you drew the comparison anyway. His jaw was more refined now, his hair longer and his eyes seemed different now, a bit more mature maybe. Or maybe just a bit more tired.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

It must have been a bit strange, you just looking at him. “You,” you replied honestly. “Do you remember that one party, way back, after high school where you punched someone?”

He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, his throat exposed. Your gaze lingered there for a bit before returning to his face. Some kind of feeling almost bubbled to the surface at the sound and the matching sight.

“I do.”

“I never actually figured why you did that.” When his gaze remained firmly on your ceiling, you continued, “I feel like now enough time has passed for you to admit why.”

He smiled a bit. “There was this other guy, right? The one I punched, I mean.”

You nodded.

“He was being a real dick about one of my friends, and when he didn’t stop talking about her I just kinda wanted him to shut up. Moved before thinking about it.”

“Asshole,” you commented, not about Jack.

“Right?” he turned his head so that he looked back down to you, “after that one punch I came back to myself but before I knew it Kevin had dragged me out by my collar, shouting that everyone had to go.”

“He must have wanted to avoid a full on fight,” you said.

“For sure, can’t even blame him.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes he said, “but it felt really good to finally shut him up.”

You laughed, thinking that the entire situation was a lot more dramatic than it really had any reason to be. The laugh turned to a yawn by the end.

“I should leave,” he said but you had the weird urge to ask him to stay.

“Sorry, I’m a lot more tired than I thought,” you said instead.

“Don’t apologise for that,” he said, getting up. He ended up offering you a hand to help you get up as well even though you really didn't need it. You took it anyway.

He picked up the bag that he had left at the door, opened it and turned to you. “I had fun.”

You smiled, “me too.”

“Good,” he offered you a smile in return. You saw his hand reach out and stop for just a second, but before you could ask him about it, he held it against your temple and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead. He lingered in your orbit for a bit longer than the duration of the kiss, just hovering above you.

“See you soon,” he said, waving, and you replied the same. Then you closed your door and locked it.

You didn’t need to hold your hand against your cheek to feel it burn. What was that? He had never done that before. He had never done anything like that before, ever.

You stumbled to your bathroom, and went through the motions of brushing your teeth and going on the toilet. When you finally crawled under your sheets, you let yourself sink down into them.

Still, you were too tired to properly dissect the entire interaction so instead you closed your eyes. You drifted to sleep, your mind focusing on the tips of his ears that had seemed a bit flushed when he closed the door behind himself.

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @hughescomplex @lupinslibraries @megaluke @cixrosie (send me an ask to be added!)

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader #ame writes #jhgtfil

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aph-mable · 9 months

Text

dpxdc; My Uncle is Nuts.

My Uncle Is A Nut

Written by:

Aph-mable

@thegatorsgoose

Having been announced the heir and Co ceo of D.A.L.V co, Danny has gotten used to being dragged to formal events with Vlad against his will. Getting caught up in saving one of the many galas he’s forced to attend, Danny catches the eye of one Lex Luther.

Chapter 1

Danny tries hard not to sigh for the umpteenth time as Vlad drags him towards another group of rich folks and reporters.

When his Godfather had publicly announced Danny as his heir during one of his mayoral speeches he thought he was going to die all over again from sheer embarrassment and frustration, especially when he started calling Danny out of class to work on ‘special’ projects or drag him to Gala’s like this one.

Usually at least one member of team Phantom would come along, usually Sam since her parents often forced her to attend anyway, unfortunately this time everyone was busy.

Sure Danny could have asked, but he didn’t want to take away what little free time they had during spring break, so for now he was going to face this party on his own. After all nothing really interesting happens at these and he’s not going to end up socializing much anyways.

At the moment Vlad had rolled him over to a group of men who were chatting away about their latest technology, a nerdy looking yet buff reporter taking notes on everything.

Danny was only half listening to what was being said when the frootloop budged in, something about wanting to partner up with Wayne tech since DALV co was already partnered with Lex co.

He could only roll his eyes and cringe as his crazy arch nemesis wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the bald ceo who looked just as done as he felt.

Seeing Vlad finally to distracted with his deals Danny took his chance and snuck away, moving his wheelchair as fast as possible to make a break for it, away from the party and to explore the building. maybe even escape if he was lucky.

Unfortunately as he reached one of the doors the pesky security stopped him, saying he needed to stay within the building, so he pulled out the oldest trick in his book.

“I have to go to the bathroom, can you at least point me to it?” He even pulled out his pleading eyes to look as innocent as possible to make the security guards feel uncomfortable.

“It’s through those doors over there, just across from the kitchen… do you want-” before the guard could finish Danny was already zooming to the door and shouting, “No thanks, byye!”

Once out of sight he at least made an effort to head towards where the bathroom was but stopped in front of the kitchen.

First double checking all sides of the hallway, he pushed himself into the kitchen in search of something to tinker with. Danny swears he will drop dead if he doesn't get some kind of technology in his hands.

When he entered the place was completely empty of any staff. makes sense as they had set up a huge buffet in the main hall and had all the kitchen staff stand against the wall to show who cooked what, like it was some kind of grand show.

This left Danny to ‘borrow’ a few appliances, they’re rich they can afford it!

He ends up taking a toaster, a blender, and some kind of cylinder air fryer, stuffing them all into his magic bigger-than-it-looks bag and bolting out of there as fast as his wheels could take him so as to not get caught.

Once he re enters the gala he parks himself in the furthest corner near a window. He starts pulling out his mini tool kit and the items he took, trying his best to hide them by making them semi invisible so it just looked like he was messing with his tools as he gets to building an ecto gun.

Danny tried to stay alert and scan the room on occasion but nothing much was happening, Vlad was still bragging to the group of men, and there were only three other kids around his age hanging out on the opposite side of the room. One looked ready to pass out while the other two stood next to the door arguing over who’s dog was best.

Danny pulled his goggles down over his eyes and rolled up his sleeves so his specialized gloves could start putting power into the ecto gun. He quickly starts to hyper focus as he tinkered with the homemade gun, his mind drifting off to play among stars that were just out of reach.

Even with everyone talking around him it all faded to white noise, finally quiet enough he now focused his power to flow through the machinery as he twisted the screws into the right place.

His very core sang with how peaceful it was as he finished making the home made ecto gun and set it down in his lap.

Just as Danny turns it invisible to put it away, his chair is suddenly jerked as he’s dragged towards the now frightened guests, a group of men dressed in green and purple question marked suits threaten everyone into a corner as they start setting up strange equipment.

Clutching his invisible weapon tightly in his lap one of the goons tries threatening him with a gun, but before Danny could react Vlad steps in front of Danny, letting out an instinctual growl to make them back off.

The goon rolls his eyes before directing them to where he wants them to go, trying hard to not let his hands shake too badly as he thrust more people into the now overcrowded corner, keeping watchful eyes on Vlad who is seconds away from losing his temper and ripping someone's throat out.

Now most people in this situation would just listen to their captors, sit still, be quiet, all that jazz, especially with how many of the goons were now bringing in strange green canisters of gas that gave off the scent of pure fear.

Yet as Danny rams Vlad’s ankles with the wheels of his chair it's pretty clear he wasn’t like most scared civilians. For once he was siding with his godfather as he was very, very angry. Angry that they were targeting innocent people, angry that Vlad was treating him like he was helpless, angry that he had to show up to this stupid gala in the first place… He had noticed some of the other kids giving them the slip earlier, at least there’s that.

Just as they bring in the last canister one of the goons trips and nearly brakes open the container, which got the already annoyed second incharge to yell at them.

“For fucks sake! Be careful with those things, we don’t even know what they’ll do yet!”

The younger looking goon, who looks barely out of their teens, shrinks away as they whimper out an apology. He sets the items down as others around them either stare in frustration or sympathy.

Yeah, no.

“Wow you people are pathetic.”

The second in command turns at Danny’s outburst, taking a step forward and clenching his fists. “What the fuck did you just say?” Danny rolls his eyes before glaring at the goon “I said you’re pathetic, did you get that or do you need me to repeat myself again?”

The crowd looks on in half horror, half shock as the leader walks up to Danny, resting his hands on his arm rests and leaning down to stare at Danny threateningly. Danny leans back in his wheelchair and looks up at him with a bored expression, unphased. Vlad tries to shove his way to Danny, but is held back by several goons. Danny spares a quick glare at his godfather, he has everything under control.

“I may be a criminal, but even I don’t like kicking a kid when they’re already down.” The goon says, moving his eyes down to glance at Danny’s wheelchair and back up again, glaring into his eyes. “So I’m going to give you one last chance to take that back.”

Danny narrows his eyes at the goon as he clutchs the invisible ecto gun in his lap, it’s now or never. With near inhuman speed he quickly reaches for his bag and pretends to pull the weapon out, aiming it right at the goons temple. There’s audible gasps from the crowd as the goon stumbles away with wide eyes before gaining his footing and going right back to glaring.

“And I’m going to give you one last chance to reconsider what you’re doing with your life” Danny smirks at the goon, already reading up the lecture in his head.

“It’s 30 minutes past start time, what is taking you so-“ Danny’s smirk evolves into a full shit eating grin as the Riddler walks in to scold the goons, what perfect timing.

With the crowd distracted Danny uses his other hand to unlock his phone. With a few simple swipes, Danny has the gala on lockdown. With the main asshole inside.

Perfect.

_____________________________________________________________

Damian puts on his Robin suit with trained proficiency once they make it to the cave. Unfortunately he and Jon were the only ones able to leave on time, the rest of the family having been dragged away. Truly, this proved that he had good reason to not mingle with the crowd. It had nothing to do with the noise. Or the lights. Or the small talk.

Truly.

“Who do you think it is this time?” Jon asks, an excited smile on his face. But even while being carried, Damian could see the tension in his frame, the nervous tick in his brow. His friend was worried. “I mean, they have the question mark thing going on, but they also had the gas canisters which I don't think the Riddler does that? And the gas itself kinda smelled like lavender and hazelnuts like fear gas but it was also kinda minty? And not like candy cane minty but like straight mint leaf minty? I don’t know, I only know there’s a difference cus ma tried to make mint tea that one time cus she was super sleep deprived and she read online that mint tea could improve memory or something, that stuff reeked!” Another indication of Jon’s nervousness, rambling. By the time Jon had finished his rant, they had already made it to the gala.

Once he’s put down Damian dusts himself off and turns to Jon. “It is most likely a team up, then.” He pulls out his katanas and readys himself for the fight ahead. “Once you break down the door our job is to stall long enough for the others to get out. We don’t know what the gas can do, so keeping the containers safe is our top priority.” As much as it pains him to admit, just him and Jon won’t be enough to handle it themselves. There’s too many people, and they need some of the bats to disperse around Gotham in case the riddler has set up a larger plan.

Jon smiles at him and nods, hopping from foot to foot in excitement (which he doesn’t find adorable at all). “You ready?” Damian gives a sharp nod before Jon kicks in the door.

“-I mean COME ON, people would PAY you to have a chance at your game show! You could even do your whole “riddle me this!” Thing as it’s own segment! But noOOOOooo, you wanna risk the lives of countless civilians so you can get a fucking furry to answer your stupid riddles, most of which aren’t even original! And NOW you wanna partner up with a fear junky cus why?”

“I-“ a clearly startled Riddler tries to answer before being interrupted.

“Oh yeah, cus your BUDDY, your PAL scarecrow, thought it would be so FUNNY to release an UNTESTED gas in a gala for a fucking THRILL HIGH.”

But instead of a fight they walk into.. this.

A wheelchair bound boy with black hair and blue eyes (who he’s sure his siblings would call “adoption bait”) holding a strange silver and green gun that looked straight out of one of Damian’s sci-fi mangas, at a confused and startled Riddler. It seems the crowd used this as an opportunity, as the rest of the goons were restrained near the walls by a mix of his family, Kent, and various gala attendees, while the middle of the room was occupied by the armed boy.

“Huh?” Jon let his arms rest at his sides as his head tilted to the side in confusion (it does NOT remind him of a confused puppy, absolutely not). However before Damian could say anything, it seems the boy has finally noticed them.

“Oh, you’re here. Took you long enough.” The boy finally puts the gun down and into a bag at his side. “Have fun.” He says in a bored tone as he turns and starts pushing himself in the direction of a man with silver hair, Vlad Masters, who met him in the middle only to start fussing over him, seemingly much to the boy’s annoyance.

Finally shaking off their shock both Damian and Jon rush to detain the Riddler until the police show up, yet Damian’s curiosity keeps bringing his eyes back to Master’s and his ward. outwardly, the concern seemed genuine, but with how the boy was reacting to just being touched by Master’s… made him think otherwise.

Even Lex Luthor was side eyeing the man instead of resuming his chatter with father or Mr. Kent, meaning something was happening and Damain was determined to find it out one way or another.

For now though, they have their hands full because of Riddler and Scarecrow.

Domain knew he should have stayed back with Ace.

____________________________________________________________________________

End of chapter 1

#dyslexia #long reads #batfamily #bruce wayne #clark kent #disabled danny #wheelchair au #jon kent #damian wayne #the riddler #scarecrow #patrol partners event 2023 #mild violence #swearing #dpxdc #autistic writers

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scarrletmoon · 2 months

Text

About Powder Blue

This is going to be long. There are going to be discussions of suicide and trauma. This is going to be a bit of a jumbled mess because I can't tell a linear story to save my life. Don't feel like you need to read this, now or ever.

If you're wondering what the issues with PB were, and looking for what's next, read the indented text and skip the rest if you want!

I've had a bit of a...tumultuous relationship with the OFMD fandom. I've made close friends and lost them, made even closer friends who've very patiently reminded me of my worth when I needed that. I'm at a point where I'm still struggling, but I'm getting better. I'm still working on not being afraid. It's a bit of an uphill battle, but I'm still pushing my little boulder. I'm not alone this time, which is nice.

I entered the fandom as a nobody. I had almost 50 fics on AO3 and two had mildly popped off while I wasn't looking, but I wasn't really known for anything. I was a fandom ghost, posting my little fanfics and sharing them with the world because I just enjoyed the characters so much. Like a lot of people, I dreamed of being known for something. I thought that'd be neat.

I'm still in a state of shock and confusion that I've written anything in the past 2 years that people remember and even love. It's weird to be in a place where I never imagined myself to be. I can't stress enough how much I did not write explicit fic before this fandom; in high school, I would've welcomed a porn ban. I was afraid of my own sexuality, convinced it was some sort of monster I had to control. Convinced I was dirty. To other people my age, I was a prude, naive and childish for not being comfortable with it. So I feel for people who lash out now, who insist that attraction is actually fetishization, that if we set enough rules, maybe if we resist temptation, we'll be saved. I see you, and I feel for you. I personally don't think that's a healthy way to live, but if you'd told me that 2 years ago, I would've cussed you out. It's really a realization you have to come to (or not) on your own terms.

Anyway.

I know it's tacky to talk about your own success but it doesn't feel real. I go back and forth, reading other people's work -- and my god, there's some unbelievable talent in this fandom -- and thinking "shit, why would anyone read anything I've written? My stories are kindergarten finger paintings next to museum masterpieces". I am learning, slowly -- very slowly -- that I can't bully myself into a shape I like better. I'll never abuse myself into the kind of writer I think I want to be.

The first chapter of Powder Blue was written on a random day of the week after work. I was in a server -- the first fandom server I'd properly joined and talked in, watching a convo about how funnyt it would be for Ed to be a middle aged sugar baby -- when I pulled out my laptop and wrote for an hour and then posted that chapter to the server. I hadn't written for five years before OFMD. I had never finished a multi chapter fic. I posted that chapter and went to make dinner, and assumed the Google Docs link would get lost in that channel after a few likes.

That's not what happened.

The next few months were...a lot. My 7 year old Twitter account blew up from about 200 followers to 1000 in a matter of months. I was misinterpreted half a dozen times. Suddenly, people knew who I was and had Opinions. Some of those Opinions were Not Nice. I was told to grow a thick skin and get over it. So I figured my extreme reactions -- physical shaking, intense fear, a spiking heart rate, like I was being chased -- were just me being weak. I thought if I just sucked it up and laughed it off, it'd stop affecting me.

Turns out RSD is real and not an excuse I was using to be a baby, and it literally didn't get better until I was medicated! Wild

(This -- "I'm just overreacting and everyone else is secretly handling it better" -- has been a pretty consistent pattern my entire life, so figuring out I'm actually AuDHD has been mindblowing. If you've been wondering why you're so weak your whole life, I've got some screening tests you might be interested in).

Anyway my point is, a few things happened over the course of 2023 that brought me to a level of emotional pain I've never experienced.

At the start of the year, I was taking a self imposed internet break, after being forced to apologize for a tweet thread about Izzy, where I'd made the mistake of suggesting that fans of his should consider thinking about why they enjoy his character, but to only do this if they wanted to and ignore me if they didn't. This was taken as me being a hypocrite, and accusing Izzy fans of being terrible people. I apologized, vowed to never mention him again, and left Twitter for a month. Around the same time, a few things in a very close friend group went very wrong. I assumed it was entirely my fault for misbehaving, picked myself up, and tried to punish myself into a shape that would be acceptable for other people.

It didn't work.

Since I was now marked as an anti-Izzy bully, I couldn't say anything -- either on Twitter or in private -- that wouldn't be interpreted as me trying to start fights, as me being passive aggressive, as me trying to send covert messages for others to decipher so they could come and grovel for my forgiveness. Some of this is my fault -- it took a long time to learn than my private locked Twitter account isn't a diary. it took even longer for me to learn that maybe the people I was hanging out with weren't my people.

During all of this, I was posting Powder Blue after months of tears, pain, heartbreak, frustration and stress. I still don't understand why people write books for work or FUN. It was the most horrific experience of my life. It was valuable and so rewarding but jesus christ did writing PB take a lot out of me.

So as I felt less connected to my friends, as I was trying to hide how I felt because I thought I didn't deserve to be upset about anything (everything is always my fault, you see, and if I just behaved better, these things wouldn't happen to me), someone came to me and said they'd noticed some issues with Powder Blue. I'll refer to this person as the reader.

I was more than happy to hear them out. And it's true that I made some mistakes. The environment that I published PB in was not the one that I wrote it in. I didn't read any other sugar daddy/sex work fics as I was working on PB. PB was never a reaction to those fics. But because of those stories, which had handled things is harmful ways, there was suddenly a responsibility I'd never expected to have. I've never done sex work, I've just spent a lot of time listening to sex workers and trying to understand the legislation and environment as much as I can as a lay person. And since I don't have a personal experience with sex work, I shared my finished but rough draft with the reader, who did.

The problem, ultimately, is not something I could ever have fixed to their satisfaction. The fic doesn't involve dubious consent on a level that I think warrants an archive warning tag -- I tried to make it explicitly clear that Ed never does anything he doesn't want to, and that he's never coerced. The issue is that the nature of Ed and Stede's relationship is inherently uneven -- Stede is rich, and although he gives Ed money that's his to keep, Ed still isn't as obscenely wealthy as Stede is. Ed is poor and has been for a while. He's good at whatever he chooses to do, but he's struggling. That's a very uncomfortable spot to put Ed in. I also put Ed through some things that I've personally been through, as a way to work through my feelings and to try and better understand myself. If I was acting like Ed in real life, the reader is right that it would be concerning. But, importantly, Ed's not real. Nothing in this story is happening to a real person. Nothing in this story is an endorsement of any of his behaviours or unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I still believe the reader had good intentions -- the amount of effort they put into coming to me would be utterly bizarre for someone who was just looking to be cruel for no reason. But that also doesn't change the fact that being told I was having a trauma response and needed to stop working on the fic immediately, pushed me into the most suicidal period I've ever experienced.

That's not their fault. I'm sure that wasn't their intention. I've chosen to not try and find out who they are, or try to contact them again to respect their privacy. Some of the things people said to me, publicly dismissing the reader's pain, were so harrowing to read that it made me feel worse for ever writing PB in the first place. They were right to stay anonymous.

I'm sure the reader never meant for me to have such a massive breakdown that I took down the entire fic and left Twitter (and a few friend groups). It's been difficult to understand that just because someone didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't change the fact that I was hurt.

One silver lining is that I did go and find a new therapist. She's great! And she also thinks that how the reader tried to bring things up to me was wrong. As the reader obviously saw, I have a lot of Trauma, so I'm still not entirely convinced that I didn't deserve what happened to me. I'm not angry at them. I appreciate their concern. I just can't do what they asked of me. In the end, Powder Blue was not a story that was right for them. And that's okay.

My point in detailing all of this, is that I stayed quiet for a long time because I didn't think I deserved to tell my part of the story. I was scared that when people said they respected my choice to take down the fic, that they agreed I'd some something impossibly harmful. People trusted my judgement but I didn't trust myself. But people didn't know that I didn't trust myself.

Additionally, reader can't speak on this without revealing themself in some way. I'm terrified that they might read this and say something anyway. My biggest fear is becoming the kind of writer who sees negative criticism and pushes on anyway, or even blocks people who disagree with me. I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt.

BUT I've been holding onto this for months. I cannot write a perfect fic that will never trigger anyone. I will never write a meaningful story that won't hurt someone, no matter my intentions. There IS a way to admit you fucked up, or a way to listen and disagree, without turning into a raging asshole. I'm struggling to find that line. I'm hoping I'm making the right choice here.

And honestly, I'm just soft. I am so fucking soft. I talk a big game but I am so soft that a single person poking at my trauma caused me to break down so severely that my partner was legitimately afraid for me. I am learning that this softness doesn't mean I should become a crueler person to cope. But it's hard. There are going to be people who see this post and think I'm being a whiny crybaby looking for attention and pity. And I just have to deal with that.

Anyway. All previous chapters of PB will be up soon. Read them or don't. I will do my best to add more detailed trigger warnings. And I would personally suggest that if you're worried about any of the content in the fic, to run these worries past a friend who's read the fic, because they'll know you better than I ever will. Please don't read Powder Blue if you think it'll harm you. I would rather have fewer readers than triggered ones.

If there's anything I've missed that you think I need to address, know that my inbox is open, that anon is on, and that I'm not in the business of retaliating against people who come to me with an issue, even if they're a dick to me while they're doing it. I'm not going to dismiss someone because they weren't nice to me while they were upset. I'm a bitch but I'm not that kind of bitch.

So. Thank you for waiting for this fic. Thank you for waiting for me. We've got something like 16 chapters to go, and I can't tell you when they'll be up, or if they'll be up soon. But thank you for loving this story. I can't tell you how much that means to me, especially now.

Love,

Scarr

#scarrlet rambles #powder blue #about powder blue #this is also just a really long about me

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rafesapologist · 10 months

Text

the set up — rafe cameron; part eight

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: swearing, mature themes, angst, sad-ish rafe, smut (minors DO NOT INTERACT, 18+)

author's note: this one is to (hopefully) make up for having to cut the last chapter short due to personal stuff. enjoy my loves

You were pissed at JJ.

Matter of fact, it was much more than that; you loathed him. He was supposed to be your best friend, your confidant, yet he was too caught up within his fit of jealousy to realize that your time with Rafe Cameron was merely an act for the sake of your friends' livelihood. Hell, if anyone knew that it should have been JJ considering he was half of the reason the whole scheme was conspired in the first place.

You wondered what his real problem was and where it came from, considering that he had never treated you like less than until you brought up going to Midsummers with Rafe. From internal dialogue, you demanded answers and to know what had him so affronted. Out of all people, you assumed that he would have your back through the entire plan, however he was doing quite the opposite.

"I can't fucking believe him. I mean - Who does he think he is?" You remonstrated, a scowl tainting your facial features ever so palpably.

"Relax princess," Rafe let out a soft partly suppressed laugh, "how does he have you this riled up in the first place?"

Despite your indignation, you froze at his question. You knew that you couldn't flat out tell him the real reason why you and JJ got into it, for obvious reasons, so what was the next best option? Lie.

"He told me I was spending too much time with Pope and got mad at me." You blurted out before you could actually think about what you were really saying. You avoided eye contact with Rafe in hopes that he wouldn't find any evidence of deception in your expression, opting to completely circumvent his observing gaze by shifting your body away from him while you blankly stared out the car window.

"Pope? I don't think I ever see you with him unless JJ is around too." His brows furrowed.

"I mean I am close with him kind of," you added, "I used to study with him all the time after school, cause he's like a genius or whatever. But it wasn't like that. Pope's too innocent." You shrugged, your words spewing from your lips with little to no thought as your only goal was to steer the boy away from any suspicion of you.

"Are you sure it's nothing more than that?

Your eyes widened in disbelief as your head snapped towards Rafe's direction while he continued to drive, "Are you serious?" You catechized in a state of dubiety.

"Just wondering." The sandy-haired boy stated as though he asked nothing wrong, which only seemed to set you off more on top of your prior situation at hand.

"For your information, no it's not more than that, and two, why do you care?" You folded your arms in your seat as you turned to face Rafe with intent to interrogate him on his unappreciated inquisitiveness.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to." He glanced over at you with a suggestive look written on his face and in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine and planted those same old butterflies in your stomach.

"Well, I did ask." You pestered in hopes it would provoke some sort of reaction out of him, which seemed to be easy for you to do.

"I just don't think you deserve to settle for some Pogue dude who can't come close to giving you a real future." Rafe kept his eyes pointed straight ahead onto the road in front of him as he spoke, making you wonder if he just havering or not.

"And what, you can?" You scoffed.

"I would." He declared in a way that implied to you that he was more than sure of himself and what exactly he was promising to you, although it seemed rather delusive and improbable to happen.

"Yeah. I'm sure you tell every girl that." You heaved a displeased sigh to yourself as you slouched back into your seat, refusing to believe that the Rafe Cameron, the Kook Prince himself, would genuinely be the type to go out of his way to make the effort for any woman, unless he was trying to sleep with her.

"You really have no faith in me, pretty girl." Rafe breathed out a half-hearted chuckle at your lack of credence in his word, however he must have taken some amusement in your incredulity judging by the way his continual smirk stayed present on his face.

"Shut up, Cameron. Just take me home."

"I have a better idea, first." He replied, his lips curling up into a suppressed thin-lip smile.

"Great. Now I'm being kidnapped too." You rolled your eyes once more, rubbing your forehead in distress.

"It's not kidnapping if you willingly got in my car, y/n."

"It's kidnapping if you're taking me places I didn't agree to go to!" You protested, flailing your hands in the air at him, which of course only earned you a chuckle on his part.

"Would you rather me take you back to JJ?" Rafe threatened flippantly as the car suddenly pulled into yet another empty parking lot. Typical.

"Would have rathered you take me home but whatever." You mumbled to yourself with your arms still folded over your chest as you peered up from your seat to observe your new surroundings, which deemed foreign to you.

"Rafe- Why are we at another parking lot? You know you're really not clever with your date ide-"

"Just trust me." Rafe shushed as he turned the car off and exited, only to meet you at the passenger side door to open it for you as he had done previously. Sure it was an almost banal thing of him to do, but you had to admit that part of you enjoyed his acts of courtesy.

You remained hesitant with him, however your curiosity was a much greater component in you decision making that had led you to following him anyways. You treaded closely behind him as he headed into the direction of a purportedly seclusive area of a place that appeared to lead to a beach, judging by the way that sand had come into your view. You fumbled through a small patch of dead trees as you made your way to a wide open shore with an absence of debris that beaches you had seen normally had.

"This is where I usually go to get away." Rafe suddenly confessed while he took in the scenic view ahead of him.

"So this is the spot you take all your hookups to. Nice." You nodded with your lips pressed together, confused as to why you were even there in the first place.

"You're so stubborn, you know that?" He rolled his eyes, sighing as he sat down on an individual log that rested in the sand.

"So I've been told."

"Just come sit with me." Rafe gingerly pleaded to you while he combed a hand through his straight locks that displayed blends of wheaty and brown undertones, combining to create a dimensional shade of dirty blond that was unique to his features, "Please?"

You wanted to resist his request initially and continue your usual back-and-forth banter that the two of you always kept up with, however you saw something different in Rafe's eyes when he asked you to sit with him. A new candor that had washed over him that had you obeying his call.

Both of you had sat besides each other for a few minutes, basking in each other's silence as the sounds of the distant waves crashed upon the shore harmoniously. You kept your gaze directly at the view of the ocean ahead, your fingers interlocked under your knees while you sat with your legs up to your chest as you took in the scenery around you. Although your vision was aimed at the oceanfront, you could feel the burning stare of those familiar azure eyes trained onto you, causing your body temperature to rise rapidly.

"I came here a lot when I was younger." Rafe broke the silence abruptly, causing you to snap your head in his direction with your brows furrowed in confusion. "To get away from my parents when they were fighting, and sometimes from Sarah." He continued on, a quiet dry laugh escaping his rosy-pink lips.

"Why did you need to get away from them?" You asked rather lowly, scared to say the wrong thing in such an earnest moment.

The blond sighed deeply in response as his eyes began to scan the area ahead of him intently before he spoke. "They fought a lot, my mom and dad. Sometimes to the point where I thought they were going to kill each other," his nose wrinkled as a display of discomfort, "but I was the oldest so everyone expected me to protect Sarah and Wheezie when things got bad like that, and I did. Every single time. But, what I think they failed to realize was that it was just as uneasy for me to witness as it was them. I didn't wanna see or hear them fight either, but I had no choice. I needed to get away from it at some point, so I started coming here."

Your lips formed into a significant frown as he spoke, taking in his shattering words and that cold look that casted over his face that you knew was only to cover up from the pain he felt reliving the events he was describing. You would have never guessed there was so much hiding beneath that posh demeanor of his, however you felt as though there was more that had yet to be said.

"Did they ever notice when you'd run away like that?" You asked sheepishly.

"Nobody noticed when I was gone. They were only concerned when they needed me for something again." Your heart began to break piece-by-piece as Rafe's revelations had began to unfold slowly. The tragedy in what he was telling you was beginning to make your throat swell as tears threatened your eyes, asking yourself how a family could be so cruel to one of their own, a scenario you were quite familiar with yourself.

"It only ended once they finally got divorced and my mother ran away back to her hometown," Rafe seemed to wince at the statement, scratching the back of his head to mask his reaction, "I never saw or heard from her again after that. Honestly I couldn't tell you if she was alive or dead right now, crazy as it sounds."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line once they began to quiver as you digested Rafe's story. You forced yourself to look away from him and focus your attention to your hands that fiddled in your lap, knowing that if you looked at him any longer you would surely lose your composure.

"Rafe.. I-I'm so sorry." You breathed out quietly, a weakness in your voice that made him turn his head to observe the state that you were in. It was safe to say that he was staring at you once again, considering the intensity of his glare could be felt from miles away, but you refused to look up and reveal to him how much distress the detailed account of his previous life had put you in.

"My experience isn't quite the same as yours, but I understand your pain, Rafe. In a sense, I do." You uttered with your eyes glued to the sand below your feet.

"What do you mean?" Rafe asked, watching you keenly as you spoke.

"My family is pretty fucked up, too. Not in the same exact way as yours may be, but still, fucked." You let out a dry laugh, kicking the sand between your toes away from you, "My mother is verbally abusive and neglectful, and my dad is just, barely ever home. Sometimes I wonder if it's because he's trying to get away from her, although I wouldn't blame him for that, but I needed him many times in my life and he was never there. Plenty of times she was saying these God awful things to me, tearing me down for most of my life, and the one person who was supposed to be there to protect me just... Wasn't." You shook your head as it hung low to the ground, fighting off the urge to cry that overcame you as you recalled the burning memory of your childhood.

"It's not my place to speak on what they went through, but JJ and John B came from homes similar to mine. Absent, hell even abusive if that's what you wanna call it, parents. We basically raised ourselves, I mean we still are essentially. At times I would think that I still don't know any better than that nine year old girl who wondered how she was going to make it in life given the circumstances she was put into. Part of me will always resent my parents for doing this to me." Your voice cracked as you spoke, a queasy feeling building up in your stomach as you basically bared your soul to some boy from Figure Eight.

"Hey," Rafe cooed as he placed his large hand ontop of your thigh, "just because you were dealt with a bad hand growing up doesn't mean you are subjected to a bad life, y/n. They can't determine how far you're going to go, and you'll sure as hell get a lot farther than them I'm sure."

"Rafe," you shooked your head at him as you quickly wiped a single tear that escaped your eye, "I live on the Cut. I'd have to work two jobs to even come close to being comfortable, and even then, it still wouldn't be enough to get by long term. I have to work ten times harder than anyone else on this island because of the situation I was born into, the family I was born into. It'll be a hassle for the rest of my life. I don't get to live in a mansion and own some fancy yacht because my dad has the money, I wasn't given that privilege in life."

Your words wounded Rafe a little bit, as much as he hated to admit, but he knew you had a point and for that he couldn't be mad at you for it. He knew you were at an unfair disadvantage simply because of who your parents were and what little effort they made into giving you a congenial life, and it hurt him knowing you were made to suffer because of other people's foolish mistakes and selfishness.

"You deserve a happy life just as much as anyone else, actually probably even more than most." The blue-eyed boy urged with ardent feelings present in his tone.

"You're just saying that." You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, nudging him softly in disagreement to his statement.

"I'm not, y/n. I mean it, genuinely. You've been through so much and here you are, still so lively and caring. Most people in your shoes would have let their past turn them heartless, but you.. You're infectious and kind despite having gone through hell. I don't think you give yourself enough credit for that." His words were sweet and genuine in a way that had your heart practically melting in his hands, a feeling you had yet to feel so authentically as you did in that moment as you sat there on a vacant beach, staring into the mesmerizing lazuline eyes of Rafe Cameron.

Your lips stayed slightly parted subconsciously as you found yourself getting lost in the current moment that was unfolding between you and the Kook Prince himself, a scene you never would have imagined yourself being in three weeks before. You watched as his pupils widened, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your swollen lips. His free hand ghosted your forearm as it made its way up to your cheek, wiping the reminisce of tears that trailed down your face. You peered up at him coyly, staring back at him through your eyelashes as you gently rested your head into his warm open hand while his thumb slowly caressed the soft skin.

"So beautiful." Rafe whispered under his breath as he looked at you with full admiration that made your legs feel weak. You weren't entirely sure why, perhaps it had been the vulnerability you were subjected to in that moment, but you felt like crying again. This time however, it wasn't from sadness or pain, but relief. A relief that for the first time in your entire life, someone had saw you for who you were and was willing to provide you a safety net for you to let down your walls and fall freely into them. Sure your friends came close to it, but with Rafe it was far different. The feeling was intense and invoked a child-like excitement, even joy, out of you. It made you feel giddy inside, as though you couldn't help but smile in his presence even when he wasn't saying a word.

The scent of a warm spice and musk fragrance invaded your space and filled the air around you, tangling you into an inebriated trance fueled by the essence of desire and impulse. You felt as though you were being taunted by Rafe's refusal to move from the position he was in, yet igniting a flame inside of you by his voluptuary touch. It was clear that he was waiting for your invite despite knowing you had craved his taste once before, but he needed your to confirm that the drive to do so was still lingering inside of you. He watched as you took matters into your own hands and climbed back onto his lap, a seat that had basically become yours after the moment the two of you had in his car.

Unlike the time before, you wanted this moment to be one of undescribable vehement, like you had never been touched properly in your lifetime. Rafe remained silent and kept his eyes glued to you and your figure, holding your hips steady against his waist.

"I know you're going to think I'm crazy for saying this right now, but Rafe," you swallowed hard as you struggled to form a coherent sentence under his stare, "I'm ready for this now."

He chuckled tauntingly, "Ready for what, pretty girl?"

"Don't make me say it." You whined, throwing your head back in aggravation.

"Dunno what you're talking about, angel." Rafe smirked as he shrugged, attempting to act as though he was blissfully unaware to the way that your hips your bucked up against him impatiently.

"I want you, idiot." You rolled your eyes at him, groaning as the tension grew unbearably painful between your thighs as the fabric of his khakis rubbed against you.

"Really? I couldn't tell." The devilish boy formed a smug look across his face as he took notice of your eagerness to get ahold of him. He scanned your frame, noticing the hazy look that had clouded over your normally doe-like eyes. Rafe was a man of great strength, but when it came to you, he was putty in your hands.

"Rafe, do something, please." You begged, unable to fully move your hips as he held onto them firmly, keeping you in place.

"Tell me what you want me to do and I will, princess." He murmured into your ear lowly as his lips ghosted your neck before landing onto the sweet spot he had found on you before, immediately earning a whimper to escape your lips quietly.

"Touch me, anything." You answered vaguely as your impatience consumed you more and more by the second, unable to contain the burning in your core.

"Hmm, where do you want me to touch you?" His voice remained low a husky, enough to make you want to collapse in his arms. You removed your hand from behind his neck and snaked it down to the side of your hip, grabbing one of his wrists and re-positioning it right along the center between your thighs.

Your mouth fell agape as Rafe obeyed your wishes and began moving his fingers up and down your blazing core, adding more pressure as your hips grinded against his long digits. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the realization of what exactly you were doing, except you were far too into it to care about the reality of it afterwards. You found that your desire only increased as he teased you through the fabric of your shorts, agonizingly. Without a second thought, you placed your hand onto of his and laced your fingers together, forcing him to speed up his movements and add even more pressure.

Rafe seemed to have taken note of your demands as he removed his hand and began unbuckling your denim shorts swiftly before sliding his fingers underneath your lace thong briskly. Your head fell back instinctively, soft moans escaping your lips that fueled Rafe's ego proudly. He found himself stuck in a daze as he watched you fall under the spell of his trained fingers as they massaged through your folds hastily, causing you to press your hips against him more as they bucked up against his hands.

Just when you found prodigious pleasure in the way Rafe's fingers felt against you, shock waves coursed through your body like electricity once you felt two of his lengthy digits curl up inside of you. Your eyes rolled back, taking in the bliss that was Rafe Cameron's two fingers thrusting into you at a pace that made your legs feel like jello. Your moans became erratic and uncontrollable as the sandy-haired boy pushed his fingers up further into you, gliding them in and out rapidly as he continuously pressed against your cervix with force.

"Does that feel good, princess?" Rafe mumbled against your collarbone as he kissed along the prominent bone passionately, trying to withhold himself from losing control of his own.

"Don't stop." You whined as you begged him to continue, grinding against his fingers keenly with hopes to feel as much of him as you possible could, a state of euphoria approaching you slowly.

"R-Rafe, I can't take it." You pleaded, wincing as his pace continued to fasten inside of you.

"C'mon angel, you can do it. You're almost there." He coaxed you softly as he sinisterly placed his thumb onto your clit and began unhesitatingly rubbing swift circles against it, sending your mind and body into a frenzy.

You placed your hands onto his shoulders and gripped onto them tightly as you began to reach your peak, your thighs shaking and your legs giving out as the muscles within them began to spasm uncontrollably. A throbbing feeling reached your core as you continued grinding against Rafe's fingers with speed as you chased your high, your moans becoming explicit and noisy.

"Cum on my fingers, baby, it's okay. Let it out." Rafe ushered as he kept up his movements while your body convulsed against him, feeling as rush go through your body as explosions set off within your core region. You felt an immense release as you came undone along his fingers, crying out as you felt an overwhelming amount of pleasure take over your body.

Rafe removed his hand out of you, buttoning your shorts back up and zipping them for you as he pecked your cheek gently.

"Are you okay?" He asked, scanning your features for any sign of pain or distress.

"Mm, yeah I'm good." You wearily hummed as you collapsed into him, burying your face into the crook of his neck while you closed your eyes, taking in the events that had just occured as well as the aftermath of the pleasure that obtained your body.

The hubristic boy chuckled at your state of defeat, "You did good, pretty girl." A small, thin lipped smile formed at the corners of his mouth as he caressed up your hips and thighs slowly, "C'mon I know you're tired, I'll take you home, or wherever. I've gotta head back to my place, anyways."

"Why?" You groaned, not wanting to removing yourself from the daydream you were currently in.

"My dad texted me, said he needs my help tonight." Rafe shrugged.

"Did he say with what?" You asked, reality now coming back to you at the mention of his infamous father.

"Yeah, sort of. He said he needed help moving some cargo onto this ship he owns. I guess it's heavy." Rafe's words came out rather bluntly and plain, as though he was talking about the weather or his weekly schedule. His statement replayed in your head a few times before you sat up and attempted to make sense of what he was talking about.

"Like just random stuff?" You questioned, pining for further answers as the topic sparked your interest and concern.

"Yes and no," he scratched the back of his head, scrunching up his nose as he lowered his voice, "but if I tell you, promise me you won't run back to your Pogue friends and tell them." Rafe asserted with seriousness, staring into your eyes as he held the sides of your arms firmly.

"Okay," you held your hands up in defense, causing his body to relax, "I promise I won't."

"See my dad and I took this trip to the bahamas a while ago, he said it was a business trip and that he wanted me to tag along for whatever reason. Come to find out, as soon as we get there, he tells me about this gold he has hidden and how he wants me to help him ship it to Switzerland so that nobody else can get ahold of it, since it's ours anyway."

Your body froze in place, staring back at Rafe was those horrifying words slipped out of his mouth without a second thought as he found sanctuary within you, despite the lack of longevity in your relationship thus far. You thought about your friends all of the sudden, and your mouth felt dry, knowing that this was exactly what they needed to know and stop before Rafe and his dad could put them in a position where the gold would be out of their reach for good.

You felt an immense pressure with the new information given to you, a burden weighing heavy on your shoulders. Your mind raced as you replayed his statement over and over again, wondering what you should do and who you should tell first, eager to relay the word back to your friends as soon as possible.

"Oh, okay that makes sense." You let out a small, half-hearted laugh, rubbing your upper arm slowly. "But, uh, Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you just drop me off at the chateau? I think I'm gonna sleep there tonight.

taglist: @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @lonelyladyghost, @edance2000,

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #obx #rafe angst #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafecameron #obx4

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kangaracha · 4 months

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 5

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n apparently it has been 28 days since the last chapter, but the good news is i now have 4 chapters written in advance so january at least will have content. for those who haven't seen the random announcements on my blog, i've been sick and honestly probably will be again in january so your patience is appreciated, and i'm sorry, i'm not usually this sporadic with a project like this! to my editing team, who are feeling betrayed seeing this surprise chapter in their notifications, my chrissy new years gift to you is not asking for edits in the holiday season, roast me in the chat if anything is wrong (keeps, that last part doesn't apply to you)

previous | masterlist | next

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Even as you knock on the door to the studio, you're nervous.

Maybe you shouldn't be; it's been nearly a month exactly now, and you're fairly sure at this point that none of the boys hate you, though calling some of them friends has been easier said than done. Maybe that's why you're nervous in the first place, because it's been so long and you're still unsure where you stand within the group, especially with the one you're supposed to meet now...

It's not your fault. Well, maybe it is a little bit - you're aware that you're struggling to relax in their company, the way you had with the girls in Midnight or other trainees. But your schedules are so different too, you only see the others in practise, or in passing in the halls. Some days you practise on your own, while they are off on one schedule or another, living the life of idols that have built up their name, other days only half of them are there. Sometimes there is no dance practise scheduled at all, their own individual lessons or other commitments taking precedence.

It won't be like this forever, you just keep telling yourself. Three weeks more, and then you debut with the rest of them, and you're part of the group for real. Three weeks of hard work, and then, maybe, it gets easier.

Maybe. You've thought that before, only for an opportunity to slip away through your fingers. You wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

The door opens - Chan, leaning over from his chair to tug on the door handle before he returns to his desk. "Come in," he says warmly, an arm gesturing you towards the couch behind him. It's already occupied by Changbin, who makes you smile when he gives you a hello and a wave. "Sit with me," he says, in Korean and then again in broken English, patting the cushions. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

You're reminded suddenly of how loud he can be, during practises or even when everyone is just sitting around, but you hesitate to mention it, sitting quietly beside him instead. "You can tell him to leave if you want," Chan adds, his back turning to his laptop. "He's not actually here for anything important."

"I'm here for emotional support," Changbin claims, only he puts on such a voice as he says it that it makes both of you laugh. "It's an important job."

"Okay, well." Chan's hands spread, like he doesn't have any say in the situation. "If you don't need support, you can tell him to leave."

"He can stay," you answer readily, and you don't really doubt your answer at all. Out of all the members, Changbin has been one of the friendliest; he'd been so warm and accepting on your first day, and gone out of his way in days since to talk to you or pull you into a joke when you were on the outskirts watching. Even if he was only doing it because you looked pathetically out of place among them, you appreciated it.

"Cool," Chan says, and then he shifts in his chair like he's uncomfortable, his eyes straying towards his laptop momentarily. "So. I wanted to talk to you about the comeback."

"I figured as much," you reply, aware that your hands are fidgeting nervously in your lap.

Chan's mouth opens, like he's going to say something, and then he hesitates, glancing away again. Apprehension rises in your throat, bitter like the taste of bad coffee as you swallow it back down again. It's one thing if you're nervous - but if he is unsure about what he's about to say too, then it could be-

"I've thought about it, and I've decided that you're not going to debut with us on this album."

Bad.

Your heart stops and then starts again, your chest tightening around your lungs even though you've heard this story before. It shouldn't even surprise you by now, the let-down; thinking you might have now, finally, done the work and reaped the reward, and yet every time you seem to let the hope creep into your chest just so that you can crumble twice as hard. You hadn't even realised you'd become this married to the idea of joining Stray Kids in the last three weeks, and yet the idea of getting dropped again hurts like a pain in your chest.

This was your last chance. No one else will debut you. The world isn't that kind of kind.

"Okay," you say, through a jaw that feels like it won't move enough to form the words. "It's - I understand. I'm sorry that I couldn't do it."

"Hang on," Chan says, a hand hovering between you like he's ready to catch you if you turn to leave. "Just hear me out - it's not that you're not good enough, okay? I just think it will help you if we wait a little bit longer, and the company were happy to agree."

"You've worked hard," Changbin says beside you, his face earnest. "No one thinks you can't do it."

"No," Chan agrees. "I'm just looking at the timeline, and the schedule they've drawn up for you, and I think you'd do much better if we push debut back to our next comeback in September."

September. Three more months away, rather than three weeks; three more months to push through, nose to the grindstone, that deadline looming over your head. Three more months in which someone might realise they've made a grave mistake and pull you right back out again, when you'd been so close to that finish line. Three more months feeling like an imposter in these boys' lives, waiting for life to even out into some kind of normal.

"Is that okay?" Chan asks, and you bite down the spiral of thoughts that pulls your mind down towards a big, black hole and nod, trying to pretend that it's nothing. The frown on his face doesn't look convinced, nor does the sheet of paper that he reaches behind him to fetch, shoving it into your hands.

"I want you to understand," he says as you look down at the paper, forcing your fingers to only hold it gently before you can rip it. A schedule, the next three weeks of your life laid out in a neat little chart that is detailed down to the minute and overflowing with things to do. "This is the choice they've given us; either we push you through this schedule and extra dance practise and debut in three weeks, or we wait sixteen weeks, and you do all of these things with the rest of us in a reasonable timeframe. I've been looking at it all week, and...I think it's too much. Waiting gives us a song prepared for nine members, takes the pressure off of the managers, gives you time to get to know everyone..."

You're forced to swallow the lump in your throat as you read the schedule and realise that Chan is right; the next week is full of photoshoots and content creation, with no room left for the dance practise you know you need to keep up with. It's rushed, and it's daunting, and at first look you're not really sure at all how you would handle everything. It's the life you've been training for for years now, and yet so many of the things on this list you feel like you haven't trained for at all.

"You're right," you admit, around a tongue that sits too heavy in your mouth. "I don't know why they thought this would work in the first place, when I'm so-"

"Someone high up had a great idea, and wanted it seen through as fast as possible," Chan says before you can finish. "Stray Kids haven't had a really...successful year. Maybe they were thinking of dropping us unless something changed, maybe they just really liked you. They've already agreed to push your debut back to September anyway, so it's not something we need to worry about now."

"As long as they still think it's a good idea in September," you say, and you manage to keep your tone light even though it doesn't sound much like a joke to you at all.

Changbin is the one to speak up, his hand slapping the arm of the couch. "They can't mess with us like that," he declares in the kind of voice that says he has complete confidence in what he says. "You want to be in Stray Kids, you're in Stray Kids, and you're not leaving."

"Exactly," Chan says warmly, and you manage to muster up a smile even though that tension still squeezes tight in your chest at the thought of another three months of limbo, not knowing if you'll stay or if you'll go. "Now," he says, turning back to his laptop, "I have better news; I've got a part for you in God's Menu that I want to hear, and I can play the next title track for you..."

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98

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lincolndjarin · 6 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty seven : the apostate

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.0k

summary : judgement day. (din's version)

warnings: language, angst, violence, gore, blood, torture, murder, death, ro makes things up about infection bc they're too scared to google it (what if there's gross pics??), din is morally grey at times, pregnancy

a/n: worked a ten hour shift, got home, made an iced coffee, hammered away at my anvil until this was written and edited. now it's bed time lol

Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain.

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. All it had taken was a few firm punches to the side of the head and any remaining hearing in that ear was lost.

It’s not looking great. Or sounding great, all he can hear is ringing as he hits the ground, hard. He knows someone is yelling at him but how the fuck is he supposed to know what they’re saying when he can feel a thin bead if blood dripping from his ear canal.

He never manages to figure out what they’re saying but he gets the gist of it when his armor is ripped from his body. He puts up as much of a fight as he can manage, his efforts skyrocketing when they yank his helmet off, leaving him bare before a couple of guards.

For the first time in his life he knows what it's like to have that choice taken away from him.

And he cannot hide the fear and discomfort that come with losing his helmet behind a mask any longer. Thankfully he isn’t exposed for very long, per Kodo’s orders his face is to remain covered. Of course they go with the most humiliating option, a fabric bag thrown over his head. It’s somehow worse than being exposed, now he can’t hear or see.

So there’s no warning for the beating that immediately follows his imprisonment.

He’s been in countless fights through the course of his life but nothing like this. He’s never been unable to fight back. They restrain him and beat him senseless, and he can’t so much as hold his hands up in defense.

And then they leave.

He has no way to tell the time. So he simply sits and waits in the emptiness that is his life now.

Until someone new comes in to beat the shit out of him.

It’s a horrific existence, to sit in the cold darkness, unable to hear an approaching threat until they’re actively upon you. He doesn’t know when it happens but at one point he loses all feeling in one of his legs, he knows he was cut there but he has no idea how bad it is. He spends his time trying to assess his wounds, he stretches out what parts of himself he can as he does his best to keep his blood flowing.

And the entire time all he can think of is you.

He knows nothing of what’s become of you. He did everything in his power to ensure that you would be blameless but he has no idea if it worked, that itself is a worse torture than any of this. He’s in agony wondering if you’re down here in a cell receiving the same treatment as he is.

☆

He didn’t think things could possibly get worse.

Until the day when the footsteps stopped before his cell and the door to Elaine’s swung open instead.

He heard most of it.

Every wet, gory sound.

He took his time with her, laughing all the while and when he was finally done Din called out to her.

All he got in response was the faint, distant sounds of her agony.

The next day he feared they had returned to finish her off when he heard the ear piercing screech of her door opening but Elaine’s screams turned to soft whines. After a while his own door shrieked open, it took him a while to realize who it was but after she repeated herself a few times he was able to make out the word Lysa and was able to relax briefly. She tried to feed him but he told her he was fine, despite the twisting pain in his stomach, he’d lost too much.

His face is all he has left. It’s all he can cling to now.

She tries every day despite his protests but he doesn’t mind. He likes having someone to talk to, it helps his hearing when he can focus on one person speaking at a time.

Then came the day where he felt hands on his chest and he tensed in anticipation of a hit that never came.

It took a while to register and for a moment he thought it was a trick but he recognized the smell of you, and the familiar, gentle nature of your touches.

You were an angel.

Feeding him, being with him, loving him.

He would have done almost anything for five more minutes with you when Lysa told you it was time to leave but he knew you couldn’t be caught down here, it just wasn’t safe, so he let you go.

And he found peace in the knowledge that you were unharmed.

From that point forward he endured for you.

Not in hopes that you would find some way to get him out, or that he might find his way back to you. He endured simply for you. For the idea that he might get to look upon your face one last time before he goes.

He had just about accepted his fate when Lysa came to him, unlocking his cuffs.

“I messed with the shift schedule.” She speaks in a hushed whisper directly into his ear so he can hear her.

“What?”

“I messed with the schedule, for the next two hours there will be no guards, one empty window. I’m taking Elaine, gonna get her off planet.”

“Nevarro.” They’ll be safe there, maybe someday he’ll bring you to visit them.

“Where is that?”

“It’s an outer rim territory, go there, find Greef Karga and tell him Din Djarin sent you.”

“I will.” She presses the key into his palm. “You won’t get a second chance. Don’t waste this.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.” It isn’t said with cruelty, it’s a fact.

That’s okay, he’s doing this for you as well.

And just like that she’s gone, when he takes the bag off his head he’s alone. Immediately he gets to his feet, nearly screaming in pain as he tries to figure out what his next move is.

“Don’t waste this.”

She’s right.

He won’t get another chance, he can’t mess this up.

If he leaves Naboo he knows he’ll never get you back. They will lock you away, you’ll be hidden in some tower making heirs for that monster, never allowed back in the public eye while the “dangerous” Mandalorian is free.

That’s his reasoning. He tries not to think too hard about the other aspect of running away.

That you might think he left you.

Finding you and taking you with him sounds like a good option but when he really thinks about it he realizes the risks are simply too high.

If they realize he’s gone and you’re gone before you can get on a ship they’ll close every port on Naboo, you’ll be trapped on this wretched planet and hunted like animals.

It wouldn’t matter much anyway, getting that far would require him being able to run. With the condition he’s in he isn’t even sure he can walk. It takes some work, and a lot of biting his own fist to silence himself but he manages to stumble across his cell.

So running isn’t an option.

And he can’t leave you.

He promised himself he would never leave you again, he stayed when you told him to go, he stayed those four days of waiting, and he’ll stay now.

But he has to be smart, and he has to be lucky.

So he sits back against the wall, sliding his wrists back into the cuffs, leaving them unlocked.

And he waits.

☆

He can’t make out much of what the man is saying but he recognizes the low, gravely timber. It’s the same man who’s tormented him several times but more importantly it’s the man who hurt Elaine.

The bag is ripped off of him and he can’t help but light up at the sight of only one man.

He can handle one man.

He’s weaker than usual, and he isn’t expecting it when his mouth is forced open, a knife slicing into his tongue.

It’s more difficult than it ever has been to fight, every muscle and injury screams for him to stop but he still manages to get the man on his back, from there all he has to do is slam his head into the stone.

It’s been a long time since he had to kill someone.

He thought it would feel worse, he’d be lying if he said that being around you hasn’t softened him up. But he feels fine, almost accomplished. He’s one step closer to you. He drags the body to an open cell a few down from his, taking the man’s uniform he dresses himself and takes his own clothes, tossing them back into his cell as he moves as fast as he can with a barely working leg.

The guard's uniform fits but the man's skin is significantly paler than Din’s, he’ll never pass as him.

“You won’t get a second chance.”

Walk and think.

Think of a plan on your way to it.

He marches out of the dungeons, every step is agony, and his mouth continues to bleed as he tries to think of people he wouldn’t mind killing who wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

The answer comes to him while he’s rubbing the raw skin of his wrists.

He’s known since he started working here just how shitty the security is. Even in his current state it’s rather easy for him to sneak into the guards station at the front entrance of the castle. It’s even easier for him to search through their bracelet database and find out exactly where the bastard is.

He wasn’t sure why he planted the bracelet on him that day in the market, a small part of him always did want to go back and find him, maybe teach him some manners. It was easy to slip the tracker into his bag, he even truly considered killing him at one point just to send a message to any one else who might try to touch you but you wouldn’t have wanted that, so he let it be.

He hopes you won’t be too mad.

He simply finds the tracker labeled ‘Mandalorian - LOST’ and memorizes the location, thankfully it appears to be in a residential area just outside the castle. He takes one extra moment to search through a few extra files, when he finds the staff lists he’s met with three blank spaces.

He fills in one of them.

Every step is blistering pain but he breathes heavily through his mouth, continuing to push through as he descends the steps towards his goal. He can’t help but wonder if he even has the strength to do any of this but what else is there to do? He has to get back to you.

Whatever it takes.

Later on, when he tells you what happened on this night he makes up a story, simple and believable, because in all honesty he doesn’t even know how he did any of it. His own strength in that moment frightens him a bit, all he knows is that he was looking for the man who accosted you in the markets all those moons ago and the next thing he knew he was standing in a halo of broken glass in the man's home.

He knows you probably wouldn’t approve but he had wanted to kill him the first time he had grabbed you in the market, after the second time he wanted to make it hurt. The dungeons are a mercy compared to what Din would do to him.

He’s running out of time so he has to improvise, he knocks the man out when he finds him in his bedroom, tearing the welding goggles off the nameless man's head. He cuts his hair with a shard of glass from the window, trying and failing to make it resemble his own.

It’ll have to do.

He tells himself before dragging the body in through the back servant's entrance he’s used several times to sneak in and out of the castle with you.

He’s slick with sweat, at least his leg doesn’t hurt anymore, by the time he gets to the bottom of the steps there's barely any feeling in it at all.

It’s one hell of a task, getting the nameless man into the cell and chained to the wall unnoticed but by some stroke of luck he does it, finishing his task by removing the man's tongue in one swift motion with a knife. Silencing the only witness to his escape.

He looks over everything, making sure it’s all in its perfect place before adding the finishing touch, a bag over his head. Once it’s done he rushes towards the dungeon's entrance.

He should move, get out of there and fast but he can’t help himself. Not after what they did to Elaine.

So he checks the shift schedule, he waits until the last possible moment, when the next shift of guards arrives he hands them the tongue, trying not to wince at the undisturbed look on their faces, and he tells them that he’s going to do one last sweep before they switch. They all seem more than happy to have someone else doing the rounds. And he takes his time, slowly and methodically checking every cell until he gets to Elaine’s, and even then he waits just a little longer, giving them as much time as possible to get on a ship and far away from here.

Even if it’s just a few extra seconds.

Then he yells.

His words make no sense and are garbled because of the state of his tongue but he gets the message across just fine.

He yells that there’s been an escape, that a prisoner is missing and in the commotion of it all he slips away. On his way back to you.

He’s so focused on seeing you again it never even crosses his mind just how many people have now seen him without his helmet.

☆

“You won’t get a second chance. Don’t waste this.”

Lysa’s words continue to echo through his head.

He has to do this exactly right. Or he’ll lose you all over again.

He has to get into the castle. The quickest way to you is going to be being a staff member, but first he has to make himself presentable. So he goes to the cabin. Surprisingly untouched, Kodo must not have cared enough to have it vacated.

He’s barely standing when he stumbles in through the door, heading straight to the fresher and peeling back the boards that hide his bacta stash.

He is so fucked up when he finally looks in the mirror. He's practically a wild animal as he scrambles to get a vial of bacta open.

It’s unbelievable that no one asked him if he was okay, his face is mangled. Large gashes originate at his mouth and move up and down his face. A deep cut runs across the bridge of his nose, coincidentally directly over a scar he already had.

He makes quick work of it. Lathering a thick layer of bacta onto each wound before opening his mouth. Thankfully his tongue is still attached in some places, it’s easy to coat in the healing ointment but it’s difficult to keep it from bleeding, but he manages. The real challenge is his leg. He limps out to the kitchen with a bottle of bacta between his teeth. Grabbing himself a knife from the drawer as he sits at the kitchen table, propping his leg up on a chair with a groan.

Fuck.

He’s seen enough battle injuries to know just how bad it is. Dark lines that he knows mean infection run along his calf.

“Fuck.” He verbalizes his distress as he peels back more of his pants.

Okay.

The infection doesn’t go past his knee.

Okay.

He doesn’t have time to be in denial over how bad it is.

He has the credits to cover a prosthetic but he doesn’t have the time. He’ll be in recovery for ages and that simply isn’t an option now. He can fight off the infection for a few more weeks but after that there’s no way he’ll be able to keep his leg.

He can’t leave you alone in that castle with Kodo.

So he steels himself, grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter to bite down on as he cautiously cuts away any decaying flesh as well as chunks of meat where the infection is worst. He’s lightheaded when he fumbles through one of his drawers for his cauterizer, sealing each wound with an unsettling sizzling sound.

He feels half dead when he finishes, haphazardly pouring the contents of the bacta bottle onto his leg before passing out on the kitchen floor.

☆

As eager as he is to get back into the castle he knows he needs at least one more day to recover. So he tends to his wounds, and tries to teach himself how to walk all over again.

He takes no breaks, keeping himself in a constant state of motion until the next day. He dresses in the provided clothes from the cabin, a wave of self consciousness washes over him as he walks up the palace steps in broad daylight, face on display for all.

He gives the name he had put into the files at the door.

Written on a slip of paper.

Din Djarin

His tongue is still healing, when he tries to speak all he can manage is a few incoherent syllables so he doesn’t bother.

He barely holds it together when he’s face to face with Kodo, he can’t believe that he’s directly dealing with servants until he begins explaining to them that they are to report any and all strange behavior from the queen back to him.

And then he’s taken into a room.

And he gets to see you for the first time in weeks.

He doesn’t even get to feel a fleeting sense of joy because there is something terribly wrong with you.

That’s the first thought that crosses his mind when he’s finally brought before you.

It’s the scariest thing he’s ever done, to stand before you, face bare. His good leg shakes like all hell and he can’t figure out what to do with his hands. Being found out isn’t even a concern at this point; he just hopes you’re okay because it’s more than clear to him that you aren’t well.

Your face looks hollow and his immediate worry is that you haven’t been eating. Your eyes have gone dull, his heart aches as he realizes the fire that he fell for is gone.

He yearns to step forward and fix it. To reignite what’s burned out but you won’t even look at him.

He so badly wishes you would just look, maybe, somehow you’d know.

But you never do.

You just leave, locking yourself away once more and he’s stuck with a week of staff training before he gets to see you again.

☆

You aren’t the same after the execution.

He had tried to warn you, to give you some kind of sign that you weren’t alone, but you’d thrown the daisies into a wall and he couldn’t do a thing to help you. He wanted so badly to say something, anything, to let you know it was him but he was only just starting to get singular words out and he just couldn’t keep up when you ran, his leg getting worse by the day.

You just wouldn’t look at him.

He had managed to purchase a hearing aid for his still working ear so he was able to hear the rumors the other servants said about you.

They were all mostly the same.

That you’d lost it.

That Kodo had driven you mad and you were going to snap.

He kept a closer eye on you after that, he had even tried leaving a different flower, blue lilies, like the ones you had back home, but they received the same treatment as the daisies.

It was the day he started talking again that you snapped.

After two weeks of bacta treatments he had regained feeling in his tongue completely and could speak, it was late at night when he’d finally done it and he wasted no time going to find you. Instead he found your room empty, when he knocked the guards told him you’d left.

So he searched for you.

As quickly as someone with a barely working leg could.

He caught sight of you just as you started making your way up the tower steps, Kodo’s hand in yours. The sight made his stomach drop but he followed you regardless. To say that he was in anguish was an understatement. He had been avoiding stairs for a while now and suddenly he had to climb an entire tower's worth.

He was slow moving, making progress at a snail's pace until he heard your screams. High above him he heard raw and pained cries and suddenly it was like he had no limp at all, as he ran the rest of the way to you.

When he found you he couldn’t stand upright any longer, he collapsed on the floor and pulled you to him, his hands shook as he got to feel your warmth for the first time in ages.

Any pain he was in temporarily fizzled out when you held him back.

He made it back to you.

☆

You can’t stop looking at him.

You’re aware of the circumstances, you should act first, look later but he’s here. Actually, really here. You aren’t imagining it, you can feel him under your trembling palms, he’s real.

Your Din.

You don’t even know where to start.

How did you miss all this?

The hawkish nose you’ve felt against your skin countless times. Plush lips, thick eyelashes, and dark eyes you’ve only ever dreamed about. It’s hard in the darkness but you can see just how pretty he is. Your pretty boy.

“We should run. No more wasting time, no more excuses. Just you and me on a ship.” His voice becomes urgent and you know he’s right but you can’t get on a ship, they’ll never let you leave the grounds.

“They’ll never stop looking for us. Maybe before I killed Kodo we could have gotten away with some cunning escape, but now? I just committed regicide. They won’t let us go.” Your voice is starting to go shrill as your panic rises.

“What other choice do we have?”

Kriff.

Can’t stay, can’t leave.

Your mind races as you close your eyes to think, letting the pieces fall together until you have a coherent plan.

“What if there was a way no one would ever come looking for us?” You take his hand, intertwining your fingers. “We wouldn’t have to hide. No more secrets, just us. We live here and no one objects.”

“Cyare, that just isn’t a possibility.”

But it is.

“I’ve been reading a lot, when I lost you, I read a lot. And not just romance books, every book I could get my hands on, I learned a little about this planet's history. According to Naboo royalty traditions, I take Kodo’s place as the reigning monarch.”

“I thought it passed to the closest living male relative.” He gives you a skeptical look.

Not if they think you’re carrying the last king's child.

“No… it goes to me.” You mumble, thinking over everything else. You have to think fast and you have to think smart. He doesn’t dare interrupt as you focus.

You’ve covered everything on your mental checklist when a dark thought crosses your mind.

“Would you think less of me if I did something out of spite?” You whisper, holding him tighter. “If I wanted to do something terrible?”

“I would kill a man for looking at you if you asked me to.”

You don’t doubt that.

“Do you trust me?” You start to stand, taking his hands as you help him to his feet.

“Always.”

“Then I need you to get Leo for me.” He frowns the moment you say his name.

“You’re sure?” You nod, pressing your face into his neck.

“I need you to do it, I can’t.” He knows you aren’t just asking him to bring Leo here, you’re asking him to end this.

“Of course.” He murmurs. “One last terrible thing.”

One last terrible thing.

Then you’re done.

“Bring him here, then I need you to follow my lead from there, there’s no more time to deliberate. We have to act, now.” You both know you’ve spent too much time planning, you pull him close, hugging him tightly before letting him rush back down the stairs. Your brow furrows when you see just how hard walking seems to be for him.

You spend the few minutes that he is away trying to steady your breathing. Your mind is having a hard time deciding what to focus on. All you want to think about is Din but you know you’ll have plenty of time to do that once the two of you are safe.

It doesn’t take long, eventually you see Leo making his way up the stairs, Din isn’t far behind.

You consider for the briefest moment, just forgiving him.

For the longest time you considered Leo to be nothing more than someone who could be a bit annoying, you never thought of him as downright cruel.

But then you see his expression.

He looks at you as if he’s owed something and all your resistance snaps. You know he can’t see Kodo’s body in the darkness so you let him walk to you.

“My queen…” He approaches skeptically as Din blocks the entrance.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Mandalorian.” You clear your throat and he immediately frowns.

“I do not think that is wise.”

“Did you know him, at all?” This has nothing to do with your plan, you just need to know.

“I only interacted with him in brief instances.” You nod slowly.

“And you knew how much he meant to me when you handed him that death sentence, right?” At this moment it doesn’t matter that Din is alive and well. You don’t care about that. You care about the days of agony he was put through, the pain Elaine had inflicted upon her when she got caught in the crossfire.

“There’s no reason for us to have this conversation.” He almost turns to leave but you speak again.

“I love him.”

“Loved.” He snaps back quickly, as if this entire ordeal is exhausting to him.

Your jaw twitches.

“Do you think he suffered down there?”

“Not at all, he was given a swift death, I’d consider him lucky.”

“What about Elaine?” You’re surprised when Din speaks, Leo seems just as taken aback as you are.

“She got what she deserved for witnessing an act of treason and doing nothing about it.”

That’s the final straw for both of you.

“You know what, I think you are deserving of a reward, Leo. Din?” You look just over Leodall’s shoulder where Din’s eyes have gone nearly black.

“Turn around and cover your ears.” The voice that speaks is one you didn’t think you’d ever hear again, it isn’t Din, it’s darker, deadlier. The Mandalorian is speaking now and you do exactly as you’re told. You turn, squeezing your eyes shut, you put your hands over your ears but even that cannot keep out the sounds of the carnage behind you.

He takes his time.

At first you aren’t sure how he kept him so quiet but when Din turns you around to face him you see how. It would be hard to call for help with a broken jaw, especially after your own tongue was shoved down your throat.

You squint, searching over the damage to his body and see where Din carefully wrapped Leo’s stiff fingers around the vibroblade.

“Are you okay?” He’s covered in gore when he asks and you simply nod, a few stray tears in your lash line.

“I’m going to finish this.” You mumble, giving him one last look of reassurance before you do the thing you’ve been doing quite a lot of lately.

You scream.

You shriek, holding yourself closely to Din. It’s mostly an act, your wails of terror that echo through the halls. But a small part of you truly wonders if you’ll ever recover from the things you’ve done tonight.

After a few nerve wracking minutes you’ve got dozens of guards taking in the sight of your mess.

You both play your parts perfectly.

You cling to Din like a lifeline as you tell the head guard what happened.

“Kodo and I, we- we were walking around the castle, he wanted to show me the view from the tower.” With a quivering finger you point to the window you know has the best view of the castle grounds. “We were celebrating. We were so happy we didn’t even see Leo following us.” You hide your face in Din’s tunic, letting out a shuddering exhale to imitate a sob. “I had just told him I was with child when Leodall attacked me.” You make a real spectacle of yourself as you weep against Din’s shirt, Din who notably goes rigid. “Kodo tried to protect me, he wanted to protect his heir but Leo just- he-” You whimper, earning yourself a room full of sympathetic gazes. “I screamed for help and thankfully this servant was here, he saved my life.”

That’s all they need to be convinced, after all, who wouldn’t believe the queen.

At one point you’re asked why Leo would ever do such a thing.

You tell them he hated Kodo.

Because he refused to make him a lord.

And you speak loud enough for every guard in the room to hear you when you tell them that Elaine was innocent, that Leo falsely accused her.

There were never any follow up questions. All of it made sense to them and even though it came from a terrible thing you’re free. You’re more than free. According to the way the monarchy on Naboo is structured you’re technically queen regent until your child comes of age.

Kodo gets to die a hero.

The king who sacrificed his life for his unborn child. (That bothers you for quite some time.)

But he dies nonetheless.

And you can live with that because at the end of the day they’re putting him in the ground and you’re up here, with Din. You’ll have to wait an appropriate amount of mourning time before you take his hand in public, but he’s yours now. No one can tell you otherwise, what kind of person tells a widowed queen what she can and can’t do?

When the room clears you take him to your chambers, dismissing the guards who stand watch.

“Kodo’s dead, leave me be.” Is all you say as you push past them with Din, you hear a brief worried discussion outside your door before they leave in a hurry. Din looks around the destruction of your room with a look of concern before his eyes settle on you. “Sorry, I- uh, didn’t handle things well when I thought you were- well.” You mumble apologetically but his look of worry is no longer focused on your room, it’s on your stomach as he makes his way over to you, carefully stepping over the mess.

“Are you- are you really…?”

“Yeah.” You smile at him but his reaction isn’t exactly what you were expecting.

He cups your face in his hands, searching your eyes for any signs of distress but you know he won’t find any. Right now it doesn’t matter that you’ve done unimaginable things. It doesn’t matter that you’ve killed. Because somehow, despite it all, Din is okay.

“I’m so sorry. If I had known I would have killed him long before you did.” He murmurs.

“Hmm?” You hum softly, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. In the light you can see a little scar across the bridge of his nose, you want to reach out and touch it.

“It doesn’t matter to me. We can do whatever you want, I’ll raise them as my own. I am more than willing to love this piece of you.” There’s a painful sincerity in his face and you become hyper aware of the fact that he assumes your baby really is Kodo’s.

“Din-” Almost immediately he interrupts you; he drags his hands down your body, resting them on your stomach.

“And we can live in the cabin. I’ll build a nursery the moment everything settles down, I will be the only father they ever know.”

“Din.” You say a bit more stern, trying to snap him out of his rambling.

“Sarad’ika.” His thumb rubs a small circle against the fabric of your nightie.

“It isn’t Kodo’s.” You give him a reassuring smile as he freezes in place.

And you get to see it all.

Every emotion you never got to enjoy when he was hidden behind steel.

You get to watch as his concern melts away into a brief confusion that is quickly replaced with shock and processing. You get to see the way his eyes soften, and his lips part ever so slightly as he inhales a shuddering breath. If you had known just how expressive he was you never would have let him wear the helmet in the first place. He chews on his bottom lip briefly as he stares at you. Swallowing loudly.

“It’s mine?” The single sentence is shaky and breathless as you nod.

“All yours.” You whisper back.

His arms cage you in as he pulls your body flush with his, nearly lifting you off the ground.

“How is that- we were so careful…” He turns his head, pressing a series of kisses into your hair. You give him a skeptical look as you laugh.

“Were we?”

“I guess not.” He shrugs, grinning from ear to ear as he looks at you.

“It’s really mine?” He leans down to kiss you before you can even answer, making you laugh against his lips.

“It’s really yours, and I already picked out a name.” Your heart flutters as his eyes light up, you just want to stare at him all day, partially because a part of you is worried he’ll disappear from your life all over again.

“Without me?” He sounds genuinely hurt, you lean up to kiss him again, hoping to soothe him.

“I think you’ll like it.” You mumble against his mouth after a moment.

“How do you know it’s going to suit them, it’s too early.” He chuckles.

“I just know.” You really do. A part of you had always had a vision of them, a little carbon copy of Din. A baby boy with his dark eyes and hair, you can feel it. “Can we go to the cabin? I don’t think I can stomach another night in here. The next few days I’m gonna have to deal with everything I did tonight, and I just want to spend tonight with you.” He nods, pulling you into one more embrace, unable to keep his hands off of you as he smiles. As much as you adore finally being able to look at him you suddenly worry that he might not be comfortable. “I have your helmet, if you want it.” You turn to fetch it but he keeps you pinned to him.

“Don’t bother.”

“Are you sure? What about the creed?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile softens.

“You’re my creed. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all for you. For both of you.”

“You know you don’t have to be so poetic with me, I’m already yours, you’ve already wooed me.” You tease.

“Then let’s go home.” He whispers. You smile as you leave your room, sneaking out the back entrance until the two of you are walking hand in hand across the courtyard and into the trees.

a/n : did a classic bks all nighter for this and im so tired, the edit was done through weary eyes lmao, feel free to lmk if there's any glaring issues

i no longer have a tag list!! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

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el-tur-el · 2 months

Text

coconut skins. - Chapter 1

Pairing: Rolan x F!Tav

Warnings: Tailplay, Light D/S, Explicit Sexual Content. 18+, Minors DNI.

Word Count: 2,674. Read it on AO3.

While she was immensely proud of the work Rolan put into his studies - the achievements he’s managed to garner at an age much younger than those before him, the respect that his new title commands - she would be the first to admit that sometimes it all became a bit of a slog. The constant late nights studying, crawling into bed beside her long after the sun had set over the Gate and the sky had become scattered with pinprick starlight.

She tried to stay up with him when she could; she’d drape herself over a chaise in the study and pretend to read while he worked. In truth, she was spending more time watching him. Fingers twitching as he scrawled notes on a piece of parchment with a quill, the shape of his mouth and he silently rehearsed the verbal components of new spells he was working on. Something so mundane should hardly be considered intoxicating, and yet the competency set a heady thrill in her veins. The Master of Ramazith’s Tower.

Gods above, but he deserved it.

Tonight, boredom has settled itself into her bones, leaden and heavy. She’s been sprawled out on chair in the study for the better part of six hours now, idly leafing through a book while he pours over research and hastily scribbles notes in the margins. She can see the exhaustion radiating off of him, the soft hunch of his shoulders, the way he’s rubbing at his temples and mumbling under his breath. She wonders, idly, if he even knows what time it is. If he had even been aware of the sun sinking far below the horizon two hours ago, painting the room in split yolk yellow and flicker flame orange.

She rises from the chair delicately, walking across the room to his desk; footfalls ghostly silent against the carpet, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of the sleeve on her thin nightgown - a gift from him a month or so ago, with delicate flowers embroidered on the material.

“Love,” She murmurs softly, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind, pressing a whisper of a kiss against the crown of his head. “You’ve been at it for hours. Why don’t you take a break, hm?”

“In a moment.” He replies, not looking up from the paper in front of him - she swears he’s been stuck on this one for over an hour now, some text about the importance of somatic components in spellwork, written in tiny, cramped hand. “I’m nearly done with this one.”

Something tells her that’s not true - that he would sit here for another eternity if she let him; not bothering to slink to bed until the sun began to lazily pull itself over the horizon, and even then only allowing himself a half hour of rest before getting up to tend to Sorcerous Sundries for the day. She knows this because he has done it before, more times than she can count on one hand. Murmuring a quiet apology for being so late to join her, then turning around and doing it all over again the next day.

“Rolan, you’ve been staring at the same piece of paper for hours. Maybe it’ll make more sense after some rest and some breakfast.” One of her hands gently rubs over his shoulder, soothing small circles against his robe with her thumb.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

Getting him to be anything other than self-sacrificial is a task akin to pulling teeth even on the best of days. He runs himself ragged constantly, all weeping edges. Nose to the grindstone until there’s little left but marrow. It makes her chest ache, truthfully; the extent to which he is willing to go in some misguided venture to prove himself.

He doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone, anymore.

She tucks a stray lock of hair behind the tip of a pointed ear, and brings her lips to the stark line of his jaw; no amount of pleading will get him to relent, but perhaps there are other methods at her disposal that will be effective. He’s always had trouble saying no to her when she looks at him with soft eyes, when she’s soft and clingy and sweet. Like he has a weakness for the saccharine. Or maybe just a weakness for her.

“Tav.” He rumbles, low and throaty - a warning.

She’s never been particularly good about contemplating consequences.

“Come to bed.” She whispers against his skin, dragging her mouth down to the slope of his throat. Open-mouthed and damp, her breath ghosting over his pulse point, her arms still draped over his shoulders.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat that sends heat spooling in her stomach, makes her feel effervescent. He’s still looking at the desk, but his gaze is unfocused and hazy, and she thinks, for one triumphant moment, that she may be winning this battle.

A few things happen in the span of a moment. He rises from his chair rather noisily, and a flicker of fear that she has somehow overstepped jolts through her. But then he’s pushing her up against the desk, the edge of the hardwood digging into the small of her back, his hands planted firmly on her shoulders. He leans dangerously close to her, his breath a heavy and ragged thing, a few strands of his hair coming loose from their tie and framing his face in a way that would almost be considered soft were it not for the glimmer of hunger held within the aureate flame of his eyes.

“Someone ought to teach you a thing or two about patience.” His voice is sharp and hushed, gravelly in a way she’s not sure she’s ever heard from him.

She stares at him with wide eyes, her lips parted in a silent question, her hands curling into the soft material of his robes at his flanks. He tilts his head to the side, eyes trained on her, flicking over her expression to see if there’s any hesitance. When he doesn’t find any, he leans in further, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.

“Is this what you wanted, Tav? To test my resolve? To see how much it takes for me to snap?” A yawning chasm of want splits open within her, a flush rising to her cheeks. “For me to pin you down and have my way with you like some kind of animal?”

“I’m certainly not complaining.” She finds her voice, shaky and uncertain as it may be, and the words fall forth in the ghost of a whisper.

“You would think that the time you spent saving the Sword Coast would have taught you even a little in the way of self-preservation, but here you are. Still so godsdamned brave.” His teeth graze over her earlobe, and she stifles a soft sound. “I could eat you alive. But you don’t care.”

“Because I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” She does, in her bones. He’d been reticent to even entertain the notion of anything that would put her in harm’s way, even if she’d expressed enthusiastic consent. Pain was not associated with pleasure in his mind, and she had never been about to argue - he’d been through enough. She wanted to be a safe place for him. A respite from it all.

He pulls away to look her in the eyes once more, a soft smile dragging up the corners of his mouth. “I wouldn’t.” He echoes, quiet.

“This is nice, though.” She feels like such a shy creature when faced with the intensity of his gaze. What a difficult thing, to be seen so thoroughly. For him to peel back the layers of herself, scrutinize each one. To know and be known. “The confidence.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He laughs, soft, all breath. “I’m rather uncertain of what I’m doing.”

She presses her lips to his cheek, featherlight. “Just do what feels natural. Or do nothing at all. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything.”

He contemplates her for a long moment, as though trying to determine the best course of action. It feels rather silly, to calculate intimacy, to map it out into data points and facts and figures. But she’s intrigued, curious as to where, exactly, this is going to go.

“I want to try something.” He says after a while. “Do you trust me?”

“Endlessly.” She replies immediately - she doesn’t even have to put thought into the question. She’d put her life in his hands if he asked her to.

“Undress for me.” The words are offered up on a breath, still so gentle.

She wordlessly moves to comply, shaky fingers moving to the hem of her nightgown, gingerly pulling it over her head. She takes the time to fold it neatly - she’d loathe to unceremoniously toss something so delicate, something he picked out for her by hand, on the ground. She turns to look at him with expectant eyes.

“Everything.” He’s perched back onto his chair, and he watches her with a neutral expression, his tone settling into something detached. It shouldn’t send a thrill of heat through her, and yet it does all the same.

She drags her bottom lip between her teeth, all nervous energy, but does as she’s told with no resistance. She steps out of her smalls, undoes her breastband, sets them both to the side. He looks at her appreciatively, eyes roaming down her body in a way that has her feeling like he could see right through to the bone if he so desired.

Oh, how vulnerable it is, the mortifying ordeal of being known.

He taps two fingers against the corner of his desk that is free of paperwork and stacks of books. “Sit.”

She wonders what he’s playing at here, exactly.

She settles herself down on the hardwood, sucking in a sharp breath at how cold it is against her bare skin. Suddenly so unsure of how to take up space, she folds her hands in her lap. Her movements feel awkward, unsteady.

“I’m going to finish my work.” He motions towards the paper he’d been engrossed in earlier. “And you’re going to sit there quietly.”

“And I need to be naked for this because….?” She blinks at him - suddenly she is very much feeling like the one who has been played here.

“If you’re good,” He ignores the question. “I’ll give you the attention you so desperately desire, once I am done.”

And just like that, he’s once again directing his attention downwards, beginning to resume his reading. She shifts awkwardly - the idea of sitting still, bare before him, with him not even paying attention to him…. It fills her with equal parts arousal and defiance, makes her want to act out so that this is over faster.

But she’ll let him have his way for now.

One of his hands comes to rest on her thigh - not gripping, simply touching. It sends sparks rolling through her, bright bursts of something fluorescent and alive. She takes in a soft breath, tremulous, and he offers her a pointed look before returning his gaze to his work.

And you’re going to sit there quietly.

Ah. She’s beginning to understand the game, now.

Silently, he pushes her knees apart, and she knows with resounding certainty the moment his hand splays out flat against the inside of her thigh that she is well and truly fucked. His nails drag a slow path upwards, and her stomach lurches, teeth sinking into her bottom lip in an attempt to keep silent.

There’s a heavy ache between her thighs, and it takes more than a little self control to not press them together, to coax his hand higher, to open her mouth to plead with him to relent. He’s still reading, and she wants to take back everything she said earlier about finding his bravado intoxicating - such a selfish creature suddenly in the face of such overwhelming want.

Perhaps he’s feeling merciful, perhaps he can sense the yearning bubbling beneath the surface of her, because his index and middle finger graze over her slit, and she nearly whines. He lets out a breath when he feels the evidence of her arousal, how wet she is just from being made to sit before him like this - but his gaze does not leave his work.

The callused pads of his fingers press against her clit, and her hands come to grasp at the edge of the desk, knuckles white from the effort of it. She hopes to all the gods above that he is not nearly as patient as he makes himself seem.

She thinks that perhaps she can handle this - a little touching, a little teasing, and then he’ll cave.

And then comes the tail.

The point of it drags over her thigh, and oh, that’s new. She does let out a gasp when he brings it up higher, when he flicks it over her slit like a silent question. Tentative, cautious, curious. Without really thinking, she spreads her legs a little wider, invites him to indulge in the impulse.

It’s different than anything she’s ever felt before. The stretch of it, the hesitancy he uses. He’s no longer paying attention to the words on the paper before him, instead staring at her with wide, glossy eyes, his lips parted.

“Look at you.” He breathes, the tone of his voice awestruck, and she lets out a whine - her patience has been unraveled, decorum discarded.

She shifts her hips, desperate for more - something, anything. He relents, dragging the spade of it out, pushing back in.

Fucking her with his tail.

It feels licentious. Base. Wrong and filthy and yet so completely and wholly right. She moans, her head tilting back, her eyes fluttering shut. His fingers work against her clit more insistently now, his breath heavy, leaning forward in his chair, drinking in the sight of her.

“Fuck.” She manages, shaky, all breath. “Holy fuck, Rolan -”

“That’s it, Tav. Just like that.” He’s all rasp and gravel, and she cracks her eyes enough to see him palming himself through his robes. Something within her snaps, fractures. “Want to see you come like this - want - Gods.”

It takes little more in the way of prompting for her to get there; flashbang bright behind her eyelids, her lips splitting open in a silent cry. It feels like drowning in the most pleasant way possible, the way it rips through her. He hisses out a curse from behind gritted teeth, his movements slowing, then stopping completely.

She’s panting as she comes down, peering down at him through unfocused eyes, her hair sticking to her forehead - skin slick with sweat, her chest heaving. He’s looking at her with a reverence in his eyes, an awe that she feels wholly undeserving of.

“That was - that was different.” She fumbles for the words, coherent thought having evaporated from her mind.

“If I had known you would have responded positively, I would have suggested trying that a while ago.” He leans forward to press his lips against the back of her knee, soft. “Was that alright?”

She motions to herself, disheveled on his desk. “I hardly think you need to ask, Rolan.”

“Right, yes, well.” He clears his throat. “No harm in checking.”

“Will you come to bed now?” She tilts her head to the side, her gaze flicking over his form, lingering on his lap. “I’d rather like to repay the favor.”

“I… believe I’m at an appropriate stopping point for the evening, yes.” He smooths out his robes and stands, offering her a hand. “But please don’t feel like you need to -”

“Rolan.” She takes his hand and gently slides off of his desk, lifting a finger to his lips. “If you don’t take me to the bedroom and ravish me right this minute, I swear to all the gods in every pantheon, I will cry.”

“Well, we can’t have that, I suppose.”

#rolan x tav #bg3 #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan

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honeybeebard · 5 months

Text

Helping You Remember (Enver Gortash x DarkUrge!Tav)

Summary// Ever since the crash Tav had been stripped of her memories, with nothing but her name and this violent urge inside her body wreaking havoc with every step she took. It was no small feat to control it, or at least tame it, and just when she thought she had gotten it under control a new foe, or an old ally, comes to remind her where she came from.

(I didn’t expect my first fic in the BG3 fandom to be about Gortash. In fact, I have several half-written projects of other characters but for whatever reason this man has recently taken a hold of me and I’m afraid I’ve sunk too deep. This was originally going to be a one-shot but it’s taken on a life of its own and will now be a multi-chapter!

This first chapter is heavy on angst but the next chapter will be better, I promise! I just imagine this is how your companions would react to the news as well as how Gortash gets his foot in the door of reclaiming you. I hope you like it! I normally write for ACOTAR so this was so much fun!) WARNINGS: Heavy angst, Mentions of past Dark Urge actions

It had been a long, painful journey to get to Baldur’s Gate but Tav had made it. Her companions had made it. Everyone was alive and mostly well, save for the tadpole in their brains, the end of the world, and the recent discovery of Tav’s family history. As they made their way to Wrym’s Rock Fortress it was the only thing her mind could focus on. Astarion, Karlach, and Wyll were all too happy to chat about being back but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she was.

Bhaalspawn.

Parents throughout Baldur’s Gate told stories of her kind to warn their children of the dangers of the world. She felt all the sins of her kin crawling up her back, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze in fear that they would see her for who she was. A monster. It didn’t matter how hard she fought the Urge inside her… her fate seemed to be already written in the stars. How could she save herself from this? She hadn’t even realized they had made it to the doors of the fortress until Astarion gently nudged her arm, giving her a concerned look as she was torn from her thoughts. “Are you alright, darling? You’re looking a bit clammy.” His voice was smooth but she could see the worry in his eyes. He was the first one she had told when she found out, seeking comfort in his arms just as he had done back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. They didn’t have an official title to whatever their relationship was, sometimes friends and other times lovers, but they were each other’s closest confidants. He understood her better than herself sometimes and he had assured her that whatever she was facing, he would be there to help. So it pained her to lie through her teeth as she mumbled, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Hopefully, we can kill two birds with one stone.” Astarion knew she was lying but didn’t press her further, his shoulders tensing slightly as he gave a curt nod and entered the building with the others. The air was buzzing with excitement as everyone awaited the coronation of Lord Gortash. His posters were everywhere, most people hailing him as a hero, but from what she had heard from Karlach he was anything but that. And especially after discovering him at Moonrise, netherstone in the gauntlet decorating his hand, she only felt that anger within her rise more at the ignorance of the city. There was something else too, like a flash of nostalgia, but it flitted from her mind before she could grasp it. Tav shook her head as they made their way up the stairs, preparing for anything as they arrived at the grand hall.

Rows of seats lined the sides as a dark red carpet decorated the ground, leading all the way up to where Duke Ravengard and Gortash stood. Wyll visibly bristled at the sight of his father, his hand steady on the edge of his blade while Karlach slowly began to grow hotter and hotter at the sight of her former friend.

“I can practically taste his blood from here.” Karlach seethed, her fists clenching. Astarion gave Tav a worrying look, wondering if now, underneath the watchful gaze of multiple Flaming Fists and the Steel Watch, was the right time to pick a fight.

Tav gave him a reassuring smile, turning to Karlach with a solemn expression. “I know you want nothing more than to rip his heart out but here might not be the best place to do it. Let’s hear him out first.” She speaks slowly, hoping to calm the tiefling.

“Hear him out? He speaks nothing but lies! There is nothing he could say that could be of use to us.” Karlach snarls, turning her heated eyes to her and frowning.

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Tav pleaded. “I promise that you will be the first one to rip him limb from limb.”

She seemed to calm slightly at Tav’s reassurance, her flames dulling as she nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” Karlach says, following in step as the four of them begin to walk up the aisle.

Gortash is the first to spot them, his lips turning up in a smile as he spies Karlach first. “My eyes must be deceiving me! Karlach, my dear girl, come and be welcome.” His voice was dripping with arrogance, his arms spread wide in greeting.

“I’m not your dear anything!” Karlach snaps, her hand immediately falling to her weapon. However, just as Tav tries to step in front of them, his dark eyes turn to her and widen in surprise.

“And with you, my, why it’s my favorite bhaalspawn!” He grins as he comes closer to Tav, eyeing her up and down. “I never thought I would see you again either.”

“Wait, you know each other?” Karlach frowns, turning to look at Tav with betrayal in her eyes.

“I swear I have no memory of him Karlach. I would’ve told you.” She stresses, holding up her hands in innocence while shaking her head rapidly.

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Gortash says smugly, chuckling to himself. “Your memories are quite lost aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you. And to think you two have traveled together all this time and she hadn’t the faintest idea that you were one of my nearest and dearest.”

This time it was Astarion who spoke, his eyes hard as his jaw clenched. “What do you mean nearest and dearest?” There was a sense of urgency under his tone, something that Tav felt as well as she tried desperately to remember what Gortash already knew.

The dark-haired Lord smirked, taking a deep breath as he turned back to Tav and began to tell fill in the missing puzzle pieces of her memory. “You and I initiated this plot. No one could stand against the Dead Three so, after obtaining the crown, enslaving the brain, and creating a false God to rule the masses, there was little to stand in our way.”

Tav stumbled back a step, her head throbbing and pulse racing. No, she couldn’t have. She couldn’t have formed this plot, couldn’t have worked with Gortash. It wasn’t who she was. Was it?

“No. I would never.” She whispered, her eyes full of anger while Gortash ignored her and carried on weaving the tale.

“In Bhaal’s name, you set your bloody dagger to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute’s name,” He smiled again as if recalling a fond memory. It made her want to vomit. “It was all going well until you had vanished, Orin claiming to be the new voice of Bhaal and taking over. She, unlike you, couldn’t control herself. She made a mess of things.”

Her stomach lurched, her knees buckling as bits and pieces of her past flashed through her mind. The blood, the screams, the wicked smile of her reflection as she all but bathed in the slain bodies of the innocent. Astarion noticed her trembling, reaching out to steady her as she tried to block out everything.

“Have you gone soft?” Gortash asked as he stepped closer to Tav, examining her guilt filled gaze with a disappointed look. “I find that hard to believe. One’s true nature will always rise to the top.”

“That is not my true nature.” She hissed through gritted teeth, rage heating her blood as she pushed out of Astarion’s grasp and walked towards the man before her. “Take it back. Tell me you’re lying.”

“I know you know the truth, Tav.” He coos as if talking to a startled babe. “I can see it in your eyes. That Urge deep within you, clawing at its cage to be unleashed. We had something great, are something great, until you were taken. I tolerated Orin, tolerated Ketheric, but I liked you. We can still finish this together.”

As he finishes his sentence one of his hands comes up to rest on her arm, an intimate gesture that sends feelings of disgust and warmth through her body. She hated this, hated him, hated how little control she felt. Once again she felt a battle in her body between the past and the present.

“Don’t touch me.” Tav growls, pulling away from him as if she had been burned. “I want nothing to do with you, with this plot. If anything this has only solidified my plans to kill you.”

She could feel Karlach’s approval from behind her, could feel her own body tensing for a fight only to falter when Gortash barked out a harsh laugh.

“Oh, my dear bhaalspawn, you have no choice.” His eyes were suddenly hard and his tone like ice as he gestured around him. “The quakes are a clear warning. Without all three netherstones ruling the brain, it will break free and complete the Grand Design. Your choices are to join me and rule or subject this entire city, yourself and companions included, to becoming illithids.”

All of her companions shifted uneasily, looking at Tav for guidance. She tried to run through all the scenarios, looking for an out that didn’t include digging herself further into her past self, but the choices remained the same.

“Together though,” Gortash straightens, giving her a charming smile. “Together we can control the brain. Renew our old partnership.”

“What kind of partnership?” Tav asked cautiously, hating how weak she sounded. Astarion cleared his throat beside her, pleading with her not to do this, but she ignored him. If she was going to find another way out of this she at least needed to get all angles of the problem…and that started with hearing Gortash’s bargain.

“Let’s discuss it somewhere more private, hm? Away from the prying eyes of both nobles and…your group.” He looked behind her distastefully. “Meet me in my office after the ceremony. Alone.”

And before she can say another word he struts back to the middle of the room, letting the Duke continue with the blasphemous ceremony. Tav immediately motions for her friends to follow her towards the back, ignoring the words of Wyll’s father as she finally takes a moment to breathe.

“You can’t possibly be considering partnering with him.” Astarion huffs. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“Look at what he’s done to this city, to my father,” Wyll adds, crossing his arms. “An alliance with Gortash is like asking to be stabbed in the back. He cannot be trusted.” “You’re damn right he can’t be trusted!” Karlach fumes, gnashing her teeth together. “That man is worse than a devil, Tav! He’s just trying to get in your head!”

“Enough!” Tav snapped, rubbing her temples as the pounding returned. Everyone’s opinions, including Gortash’s, were starting to make her head spin. “I know this is…a lot. I can’t process it all myself-”

“What, that you and Gortash created this entire cult, this entire problem that is threatening the lives of millions of people?” Karlach’s voice was rising with each word, her flames growing by the second. “I knew you were a bhaalspawn but Bhaal’s chosen? You are half the bloody reason we are here in the first place!”

“Karlach-” Wyll tries to intervene but she brushes him off, stalking towards Tav and jamming a red hot finger in her chest.

“No, don’t Karlach me.” She snarls, glaring down at her. “Did you not hear what she has done? The acts she committed in Bhaal’s name? Amnesia or not, you all have to see how dangerous she is.”

“I’m not!” Tav protested, tears pricking her eyes as she felt their gazes on her. It was her worst fear realized. “I’m not a monster, I don’t remember doing any of those things. I would never…”

“And yet here you are, ready to make nice with the viper.” Karlach spits, standing to her full height while regarding her with revulsion. “I need time to think.”

Before Tav can say anything or reach out to plead for forgiveness, she storms off back to the entrance. Wyll looks between the two of them, his eyes full of sadness before he simply shakes his head and follows Karlach. The only one left is Astarion who is staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Star…” She whispers, throat tight as she tries to reach for him only to physically recoil when he moves away from her hand. It wasn’t much, just a slight sway to the side, but it was enough to make the knife in her gut twist deeper. “Please.”

“I…I need a moment.” He murmurs, bowing his head before following the same path as her companions. Tav can’t stop herself from sinking to the floor, her soul aching as she brings her knees to her chest and cries. She doesn’t care that she’s in a room full of nobles, doesn’t care that everyone is watching her finally break, she just doesn’t care anymore.

Her friends, her entire world ever since escaping that damned nautiloid, had abandoned her. They had found out who she had been and had left her here, alone. Tav wanted to hate them, wanted to curse them, and never see them again, but could she blame them?

She was part of the reason this was all happening in the first place. She had caused all this pain, all this death, in the name of her father. Even if she didn’t remember it that didn’t absolve her of the guilt. If roles were reversed, she would probably question her relationship with the person as well.

“It’s all my fault.” She whispers, pressing her palms against her eyes harshly. The tears were hot as they ran down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. Tav was so caught up in her emotions she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her.

It wasn’t until she felt cold, metal claws tip her chin up that she finally came to her senses, blinking up at the man who had just revealed all her immoral acts as if they were nothing.

“My poor little bhaalspawn,” He purred, using his other hand to pull her up to stand. “All alone again.”

Tav sniffled, feeling vulnerable as he wiped a tear away with his thumb. Her entire body felt numb as he pulled her into his arms, shushing her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Come.” He ordered. “Let me save you once more.”

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poppadom0912 · 6 months

Text

Together (IX)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.

Summary: They're finally together and nothing's getting in the way... maybe.

A/N: So this is the second final chapter before the epilogue. This has been so much fun to write you don't understand. This is like my baby that I've had since January and I'm so proud. You guys have shown so much love for it that it makes me upset it's all coming to an end. So I hope you enjoy and cherish the last two chapters of this series!!

I'm not a professional so ignore any medical inaccuracies. Also, for my sake, let's pretend that all these characters are still here because I can't be asked to remember who left and what season is which. Everyone's just going to exist happily together ;))

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

The gunshots reverberated through the warehouse, despite being cut off from the outside world it sounded like a battlefield where thousands of bullets were being shot when in reality it was probably under thirty people shooting back and forth at each other.

You’d been awake for a while now, your body curling around Will’s as both of you shivered. He tried talking, telling you stories that you somehow never heard before but talking became too hard at one point and his pain doubled resulting in staying in silence.

The silence made it easy to get lost in thought, getting carried away in the thought that maybe this was it. It daunted on you that no matter how hard you fought, how hard your brothers fought, none of it was enough at the end of the day because look at where the three of you ended up.

Half an hour later, Will was dragging you and himself towards the door as soon as the gunshots went off. He murmured how when the door was eventually opened, you’d be hidden behind the door and it’d taken just a few seconds longer to be found, giving Will hopefully some time to come up with a very last-minute plan.

Holding in your breath, you waited anxiously on the floor with Will crouched besides you, pain evident on his face from the new uncomfortable position. Just as you were going to tell him to sit down, footsteps could be heard stomping downstairs and across the corridors.

You and Will shared a glance, worry written boldly on both your faces. This was probably it and that thought of this being the end made the pit in your stomach grow. All this pain and suffering only ending in death, it was kinda pathetic. You prayed Jay mourned healthily, prayed Kelly wouldn’t lose himself and moved on, prayed that everything stuck together, and no one let this tear them apart.

Will gripped your hand as tightly as he could, his body shielding yours as best he could because if this was it, then he was going to go down protecting you and putting up some sort of a fight. You squeezed his hand back as tight as you could, expressing words that you were too scared to say in the silence that was interrupted by stomping feet and shattering bullets.

With a watery smile, you squeezed Will’s hand one more time for good measure, maintaining eye contact for just a little longer, having a silent conversation where you both said everything necessary with simply your eyes; eyes that you shared with Jay and eyes that he shared with your dad. Merely the thought of it made a tear slip from where you were pushing it back.

Will softly smiled back at you, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles comfortingly. This minute of silence shared between you two wasn’t enough, you wanted, scratch that you needed more time.

The sound of struggle was the next thing you heard; someone was trying to get into the locked room. The sudden banging overtook your thundering heart that was already having a tough time.

The door burst open; it happened so fast that it hit Will’s back whose face scrunched up in pain. You squeezed his hand tighter to hopefully offer him some comfort, but he only adjusted his position so that his crouched body was fully covering yours from outside eyes.

“Please, please don’t touch her.” Will begged, urgency dripping as it heavily coated his words. He would rather they did all the damage on him than you, you’d been hurt enough, and he could handle a little more violence. You argued he couldn’t since he was barely stable while on the ground. If he wasn’t being so hypervigilant and took the time, he’d realise he was worse off than he thought.

“Thank fuck.”

That didn’t sound like Jackson or Ezra, neither did it sound like any of their bulky lackeys.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, watching as Will froze from shock. All the oxygen left his body as he lay eyes, finally, on Jay.

“Shit, what the hell did they do?!” The fear and anger mixed as Jay took in the sight of his siblings. To see them again took off all the weight on his shoulders, relief replacing it but soon it was gone because you and Will looked worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.

“Help me up Jay.” Will ignored Jay’s question and instead held out his hand. Jay complied easily, pulling Will up onto his feet but as soon as he stood, he crumbled back onto the floor.

“Shit okay, never mind.” Will groaned, eyes screwed shut as he caught his breath, arm protecting his abdomen. “Leave me for now, you gotta carry Y/N, there’s no way she can walk.”

“Dude, neither can you or are you also blind now?” Jay scoffed; his eyes wide in bewilderment at his older brother's insistence. “Kevin’s down the hall, he can help.”

You and Will hummed in reply, neither of you having the energy to properly reply. You felt bad because you barely did anything while Will did all he could and more despite being incapacitated.

“Seeing your ugly mugs makes me want to cry.” Jay said, a smile appearing on his scabbed lips as he looked down at the two of you. There were no lies in his words, relief flooded his body at the simply seeing his siblings even if they were injured beyond human capabilities but being separated for so long, it did things to men.

“Come on Halstead’s, let’s get you outta here.” Kevin said, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere, making you and Will jump in fright. It would’ve been funny had your responses not been a result of the trauma you just experienced.

Jay scooped you into his arms, expletives spilling from your lips from your body being jostled around. His whispered apologies and tried comforting you, trying his best to quell your pain with just his words but it could only do so much. Behind you was Kevin holding Will around his waist, the pair being much slower as Will struggled mightily on his feet, but Kevin was a godsend, being the most patient and kind person as he supported Will.

The bright afternoon sun blinded you as your finally entered the outside world, being met with fresh air, natural lighting and the company of people who had pure intentions of helping. You briefly saw members of intelligence surrounding you, acting as a shield as they guided Jay towards the ambulance waiting.

The familiar faces of your favourite paramedics soon came into view causing a smile to break out on yours. As soon as you approached the ambo, Jay gently lay you on the awaiting stretcher and stood back, letting the professionals do their job while keeping watch.

“Oh Y/N.” Sylvie said sombrely, gingerly pushing your hair back before connecting to a bunch of wires that you couldn’t remember what their purposes were. “We’ve got you, you’re going to be just fine, okay?”

The question was rhetorical, but you still nodded drowsily in reply. You were aware of the two pairs of hands working on you, Violet and Sylvie were very likely panicking on the inside from the state you were in, but their concern took over. They could panic later once you were properly treated.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a new group gathering around the ambo and you could hear voices rising, getting louder the closer they got to 61. If you had it in you, you would’ve looked for the source, but Sylvie reassured you that everything was being handled.

Violets hands suddenly disappeared as she suddenly exited the ambo, rushing with things in her hands. It took a while for you to understand why, your brain all muddled up, but it only now registered that Will was behind you with Kevin.

“Will.” You mumbled, your voice scratching as your panic increased. “Will-”

“Violet's with him.” Sylvie said, her undertone giving it away that she wasn’t confident deep down. “Another ambos on the way for him, don’t worry.” Yet, despite her own words, Sylvie didn’t believe in them. She saw Will for a brief millisecond when he appeared, the ruckus catching her attention, but he somehow looked worse than you under the blaring sun.

Before you could insist on being told what was happening to him, the ambulance doors were suddenly being slammed shut as Violet drove with all lights and sirens.

*****

Maggie couldn’t believe her eyes.

It had been two days since the Halstead’s disappeared. Everyone was informed on day one about their disappearance and it was news that everyone found difficulty in swallowing.

Everyone had been on edge for the 48 hours. While on shift, multiple people from intelligence and 51 made an appearance into the ED and their solemn faces were all identical. The tension was high, and it only got worse when Jay was randomly dumped outside of Med.

Around an hour ago, Kim called in saying that Will and Y/N had finally been found and that they should be prepared for the worst. And so, Maggie did what she does best.

61 Was the first to arrive with police escort, Hailey and Adam drove in front with Kim behind with Jay. They almost formed a protective circle as Sylvie exited along with Violet who helped pulling out the stretcher.

Laying eyes on you for the first time made the charge nurse sick. No matter how long she’d been working in the emergency department, nothing could ever make her get used to this.

Sylvie relayed shakily what she knew about your condition, Crocket and Natalie listening intently with April’s assistance as they got to work as soon as they entered a trauma bay. Maggie stood with Ethan and Connor by her side, watching as chaos descended in the bay. The three of them were waiting for Will.

“Jay, how about we finally get a good look at you, huh?” Ethan said, remembering what happened yesterday as he caught sight of the green-eyed detective at the back of the group who refused to look away from his baby sister.

But the man in question looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Will’s not going to make it.” Jay stated, his voice strong and firm as he spoke. He looked away from where you were being treated and looked at everyone almost robotically. “Will’s not making it.”

Before anyone could say anything, the bay doors were opened and everyone flooded out, pushing the gurney towards the elevator. Crocket stayed back from the rest, slowly walking backwards as he explained, “We’re taking her into surgery, but all things considered, she’s looking okay.”

And with that, the surgeon was speeding off to basically save your life.

“How about we look at you Jay? You promised me, remember?” Ethan asked rhetorically, guiding the stoic man towards a different, cleaner trauma bay so that he could properly treat him, giving him everything he desperately needed yesterday.

“I don’t have Will.” Jay retorted but followed the doctor anyways.

Maggie and Connor watched the two men enter another bay before all they could hear was the sounds of the bustling yet peaceful ED. They didn’t know what to make of Jay’s words, but the man seemed hopeless and on the verge of breaking down. He looked awfully similar to the time when his dad died.

They turned to the paramedics and the three members of intelligence but the look on their faces told them everything they needed to know.

*****

Jay finally broke down when he was left alone, your sleeping body being the only thing present in the room with him.

Crocket fully led Jay through every procedure that they did, explaining what they did during the surgery and what exactly your injuries were. Usually, that was Will’s job, but Jay tried not to think about that when the surgeon gently spoke to him.

You had several broken ribs, some even fractured, and it’d been very very close to puncturing your lungs - it was apparently surprising you didn’t have a pneumothorax. You had quite the concussion, multiple lacerations that were both superficial and that needed surgical fixing. There also had been some damage to your spleen that was repaired, a fractured left hand and an out of place bone in your foot.

Overall, everyone had been expecting much worse, but they did explain to Jay that recovering would be the worst part of all of this. They weren’t sure about neurological damage nor how bad your vocal damage was. Once you woke up, there was plenty of testing to be done.

Seeing you alive and breathing, even while connected to a bunch of tubes and wires, Jay felt relief but oh so overwhelmed at the same time. So much happened in the last two days and now that he finally was left alone with his thoughts and feelings, the sounds of beeping machines and you sleeping painlessly, everything came crashing down on him.

It properly dawned on him that the three of you had been kidnapped, you’d been hurt and hurt time after time. He was left to fight and get you back home and he’d been so close. For a while, Jay thought everything was done and he did it but then, but then Will happened.

Jay harshly wiped away the tears on his cheek, his eyes catching sight of his bandaged knuckles and the IV in his left hand that he was itching to remove but then a voice sounding like Will warned him against doing so.

Ethan did an x-ray on him, stitching his bullet wound and thoroughly wrapping it. He plucked several butterfly stripes and many cotton swabs to get rid of any and all blood stains. All in all, Jay would be off work for a few weeks, maybe some physio depending on how his leg felt but he was in pretty decent shape given the circumstances.

Jay bitterly laughed, shaking his head at the thought that he was expecting to have a full recovering with barely any long-lasting damage. He hated to admit it aloud, but this was going to stay with him forever, there was no way he was ever going to get rid of your gut-wrenching screams, they were forever engraved into his mind.

And well, if Jay didn’t see Will at least arrive at Med, then nothing was ever going to be the same again.

And so, what if Jay cried himself to sleep in the chair at his sister's bedside, at perhaps his only sibling's side.

Jay drowned out his thoughts as he sobbed, hand curling around his mouth to muffle his cries as not to alert anyone of his emotional state. But, when Maggie walks in later to find the two younger Halstead’s gone to the world, she pretends not to see the tear tracks staining Jay’s cheeks.

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e @lanea-1 @swidkid

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #jay halstead x reader #onechicago #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #will halstead x reader #halstead sister #halstead brothers #kelly severide x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x sister!reader

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pedroshotwifey · 2 months

Text

To The Flame chapter nine

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark Javier Peña x Fem!reader

Chapter word count: 2.1k

Chapter tags/warnings: fluff, angst, manipulation, anxiety

Chapter summary: Making this move is going to be tougher than you thought...

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm super excited because after this, things are going to get real dark real quick. We can really see some of the first big bits of manipulation here. I already have so many deliciously dark scenes written, and I can't wait to share!

****

The next couple of days are chaotic, full of making arrangements for flights, organizing through all of your possessions, and figuring out what bills need to be discontinued. It’s a lot to handle, but Javi takes it in stride, making sure you don’t have too much to worry about.

He handles most of the interactions and arrangements when he’s not working, leaving you to get the little things done. Even though you’re not tasked with much, it’s still extra stressful to deal with after just having moved a few weeks prior.

You barely have any time together since Javi’s running around trying to get everything done in time, so you savor the moments when your schedules actually align. It’s mostly at night, after he gets home, and the two of you will eat dinner together and then do whatever you have the energy for.

Today’s the first day he’s been given off since he found out about the promotion, and if everything goes according to plan, he should be off until the move. The two of you have gotten everything you’d needed to do today knocked off the list, and decided that you deserve a bit to relax instead of more packing.

You both sat and watched TV for the better half of the day, all the fans on and the windows open in an attempt to cool off. The house is fucking sweltering thanks to having to cancel the A/C. It’s one of the hottest days you’ve had all year, because that figures.

Both you and Javi have peeled off your shirts, leaving you in your bra and shorts, and him in his usual jeans. Despite the lingering looks thrown each other’s way, you both know it’s too hot to engage in celebratory activities right now.

Javi’s on the phone in the living room while you prep some sandwiches for lunch to use the rest of what you have in the fridge. It’s likely that the next few days will be filled with an ungodly amount of fast food and diners.

You finish putting the sandwiches together and slip back into the living room with two plates, handing one to Javi as he hangs it back up on the reciever.

“Here you go baby.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Javi smiles at you.

You take a seat next to him on the couch and the two of you eat in silence, too tired to have much to say. You’re both off in your own worlds, you thinking about what you have left on your checklist; sort through clothes, pack pictures, get the dishes organized, call your sister.

You stop on that one, resisting the urge to cringe. You haven’t called her since you moved, and she has no way of getting to you. You feel like a coward but you almost don’t want to face her. You’ve done nothing wrong, and yet you almost feel like you’d abandoned her and moved on.

You know she wouldn’t think that, but it’s still a nagging concern in the back of your mind. What would you even say? Just tell her that you’re moving? You don’t know your address for Columbia yet, but the least you could do is let her know what’s going on.

You finish your sandwich and sigh, making Javi glance your way.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you tell him after a second, deciding you don’t really want to explain the way your entire thought process just went.

“I’m sorry, baby. We could take a nap if you want?”

You smile at him. “ I Might have to take you up on that in a minute.”

You gesture for his empty plate and he hands it to you, offering to do the dishes instead. You, of course, shoot him down. It doesn’t take you long, but you’re able to convince yourself to bite the bullet as you’re sticking the plates in the drying rack.

You walk into the hall with the phone, drying your hands on your shorts as you go. Javi’s brows furrow as he watches you pick it up.

“What are you doing?”

You pause on dialing and look up at him to where he’s still sat on the couch.

“I’m going to try to get a hold of my sister to tell her we’re moving.”

Javi sits up a bit, suddenly more energetic than he has been all day. “You can do that later, can’t you? Come see me.” He flips his palm up and reaches for you the tiniest bit. You smile warmly at him.

“Just give me one second, it’ll be quick,” you tell him. He frowns.

“I’ll be quick too. Just a kiss?” He smiles hopefully up at you and you melt a bit before giving in.

“Alright, just a kiss, no more, you bad man,” you laugh at him as his smile widens the closer you get.

You lean down to meet his lips, and then you’re being pulled forward, giggling as you land in his lap. His mouth immediately finds yours as he pulls you into him, trapping your body against his.

“Baby,” you laugh, trying to pull away. “I’ve got to call her!”

Javi hums to signify that he heard you, but doesn’t let up from the sloppy kisses he’s planting on your neck and chest. You can’t help the small moan that slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot.

“M, Javi, I’m being serious honey,” you try again. “I need to get in touch with her before they cut off our service.” You try to push yourself up, but his arms tangle more tightly around you.

“Javi, quit,” you’re not joking around anymore. You’re a little concerned that the service is going to be cut off sometime today, since it was the day you were supposed to pay for it. You’ve already put off calling your sister for too long just out of nerves, and now you don’t want to miss your chance.

You push against him, trying to pry his arms away, and this, combined with the seriousness ebbing into your tone, finally catches his attention. He looks up at you, a slight pout on his full lips.

“I just need to let her know,” you say, waiting for him to loosen his grip, but he only sighs.

“Honestly, I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” he admits, looking at you with genuine concern.

You frown, a bit taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs again and looks down past you, almost like he’s getting ready to explain something to a small child. You don’t like the way it makes you feel like such. You’ve noticed recently that he has a tendency to make you feel like a kid, though you don’t think it’s intentional. The age gap definitely doesn’t help either. It makes you worry sometimes that you’re too immature for him, even though you know you’re not in the slightest.

“I don’t think you should tell anyone you’re leaving,” he explains.

“What? Why? She’s my sister, she deserves to know.” You have no idea where this is coming from. You’ve told him about your relationship with your sister, how it’s nothing like your connection with your parents.

“Can you really trust her not to tell your parents though? Or them to not listen in? They don’t need to know your address.”

You shift uncomfortably in his lap, getting agitated with his protests.

“Javi, I’ll literally be in a different country, I don’t think it matters even if they do.”

His lips press into a thin line and breathes deeply through his nose. He unwraps his arms from around you to place his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he looks back into your eyes.

“Honestly, sweetheart, it’s my job. My superiors want me to limit who knows our address, especially if it’s not someone we can completely trust.”

Your stomach sinks at this. It makes sense, and you don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize his position, but leaving your sister with no explanation? She’s done nothing to deserve that.

“But I–”

He cuts you off with a pointed stare, his jaw ticking slightly.

“I’m not asking for much here. It’s just one thing. You really can’t do that?”

Your ears heat with shame as you swallow down bile rising into your mouth. You cast your gaze down so you don’t have to look at him with your embarrassment. You’re being selfish again, and you both know it.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” you apologize quietly through the lump in your throat.

Javi’s hand comes to your chin, raising your eyes back to his and seeing the sheen in them. He tuts sympathetically and cradles your head to his chest, petting your hair in a soothing motion.

“I know it’s hard, honey. I’m sorry it has to be like this.”

You nod into his shirt, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your efforts to keep them in. You feel extremely overwhelmed all of a sudden.

He hushes you and lets you cry silently into his chest, whispering encouragement as he rocks you gently.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And you know you will be, it just doesn’t seem like it right now.

*****

You have pretty much everything else packed within the next few days. It was honestly miserable having to put everything away after you’d just put it out, both in a physical and emotional sense. You don’t know how many times you had to remind yourself that you were doing this for Javi, that he deserved it.

That fact definitely softened the blow, but not enough so that the sadness was completely snuffed. And now knowing that you’ll have to pretty much cut contact with your sister, who is also your only friend, it’s been a hard pill to swallow. It’s going to be hard leaving everything behind, but you’re willing to do it for your husband. Hell, he’s the one that got you here in the first place—it’s the least you could do.

You leave for Columbia tomorrow, most of your stuff already in the process of being moved to the apartment Javi was assigned to. Well, most of the stuff you were able to move anyway. You’ve had to pick and choose what you want to bring with you, and what needs to stay at the old house for storage. The apartment isn’t very large, so there’s no way to take everything. Another thing that saddens you.

You’d picked through all of your clothes and decided to put all your dresses into a box for storage and take everything else. There’s no sense in bringing them since you’ll likely not have a need for them. There’s only a couple that you stuffed in with everything else, just in case. You’re also bringing your books, some photos, and some sentimental things from your childhood.

Javi’s bringing about the same. Just his everyday clothes, a suit or two, and some of his personal items. It all got loaded onto a little trailer, and Javi took it either to the old house or to the airport.

You’re left now with just the bare minimum in the house. A few kitchen items, the couch that you won’t be able to move, and the mattress that you’ll be taking tomorrow. You’re both laying on that now, you with a book in your hand, and Javi reading through some paperwork.

He received his assignments a couple of days ago, and he’s been looking through to memorize most of the important stuff. It sounds like there’s going to be a lot less office work in his future.

You put your book down, huffing a dramatic sigh.

“Javi?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m bored.”

He puts his paperwork down, rubs his eyes, and purses his lips at you.

You smile at him, and he can’t resist the way his lips tug up as well. You crawl over to him, situating yourself into his side, and hand your book to him.

“Read to me.”

He sighs at you but takes the book.

“I’m probably going to be slow.”

“That’s okay.”

“Alright, fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You smile wider, snuggling further into his body as he clears his throat and picks up from the page you left off on. Your eyes close as you listen to the sound of his gravelly voice somehow smoothing out as he gets into the groove of the love story.

Before long, your eyes start to get heavy and you have to actively resist the urge to fall asleep. He’s not even a chapter in when you’re lulled to sleep by his voice and the ceiling fan running in the background.

**** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It wasn't my favorite but some of these next ones are, so stay tuned 😈

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #angst #fluff #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #javier pena angst #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

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bettdraws · 2 months

Note

Genuine question but if elain and azriel weren’t going to have some romantic relationship, why did SJM even write that first half of the bonus chapter? Elucien are already mates, she could’ve written a scene with them or not mentioned azriel and elain at all.

I’m not saying that gwynriel half of the bonus chapter was meaningless, they DID have good banter and the language used was eyebrow-raising at the very least, like something is def hinted there but I’m just confused about it. Like if she’s going in gwynriel direction, she could’ve JUST written the second half of the scene. We didn’t even KNOW elain and azriel were interacting before. Like why write a scene with Az + elain and then wreck them in the same chapter?

It’s so weird?? It could’ve easily been a set up for elucien and gwynriel but now it looks more like she was setting up for a love triangle between Az Gwyn and Elain.

I don’t know what to make of this 🤷🏻‍♀️ it just felt unnecessary lol bc if the next book IS azriel, I really don’t think she is going to have him move on from Mor to Elain, then Elain to Gwyn over the course of one chapter that didn’t even make it in the book?

It makes me so annoyed to think about that stupid BC. She should’ve never released it bc whether it’s gwynriel or elriel, that bonus chapter doesn’t make sense.

Like yeah yeah, we see how toxic elriel could’ve been and we see how they would never work - but like… tbh I didn’t think anything was happening between elain and azriel UNTIL the bonus chapter. I literally read that and was like HUH when did they—??? And then he was like “this was a mistake” and they went their separate ways and he ended the chapter with Gwyn. If SJM is going for Gwynriel endgame, it would’ve been so much better if she just didn’t even include the first part of the bonus chapter?? And vice versa.

If she hadn’t written the first part, I wouldn’t think elriel was a thing. If she hadn’t written the second part I wouldn’t think gwynriel was a thing.

I don’t think she did it just for drama either so I literally dunno what purpose it serves.

Hey!! That’s a great question, let me dive into it…

I think the bonus chapter has three parts, one with Elain, one with Rhys, one with Gwyn, not only to cement Gwynriel but also to give an end to Elriel. This also while deep diving into Azriel’s thoughts and motivations.

I for one, never really considered Elriel as strongly as their shippers do, but I could tell there was something going on there, in Acowar we got some winks at Elain being comfortable with Azriel (even if kind of in a childish, innocent way) and in Acofas we got the beginning of them acting awkward with eachother, Elain showing Azriel her plans etc, I remember thinking it was at best cute and Elain obviously had a crush on Az (but he was still pretty much still hung up with Mor and she was still mourning her fiance). When I read the BC I was so shocked and uncomfortable with Azriel’s purely sexual thoughts about Elain, it was deliberate, to show the reader Azriel is probably confusing lust with romantic feelings. That’s I think why you say the BC was the first time you saw them as a couple, but this shock to me was more in the way Azriel himself actually viewed Elain, until then we all at least agreed it was in a more tender way, and this was absolutely crushed with his pov (and we actually see this tenderness in the way he thinks about Gwyn instead).

Now to your main question: Why add Elain in his chapter? And to that we first need to answer why SJM wrote Elriel at all.

As an Elucien I can’t come here and say Elriel never existed because it did, but the reason SJM wrote it is not to lead them as endgame, but to add layers and tension to these characters. Firstly, Elriel for me was there to add some will-they-won’t-they to Elucien’s mating bond. Look, with no other couple did we have a mating bond snapped and proclaimed even before the two characters even spoke to each-other. This the first time we have this scenario, and things need to go one way for the tension to be there.

If Elain was just mourning Graysen (which relationship was ended in the same book Elucien gained traction) then it would have been too given that they would inevitably find their way to eachother. So she adds Azriel to the mix, who at that point had only ever been interested in Mor for 500 years, with absolutely zero possibility of her ever mirroring his interest. It just makes sense for his character to also find that fixation on Elain, another unattainable female. This was another way Azriel continued his self sabotage behavior, and so we had the first real stepping stone into what his character arc will be when he gets his book.

But we can agree Elriel started (to act as a red herring for Elucien, add character tension, give Az an arc), gained traction in Acofas, and when Sarah introduced us to Gwyn and had the realization she was perfect for Azriel, she had to close the Elriel thread. So here comes the BC.

As readers we needed to see with our own eyes why exactly these two characters weren’t good together, just like she did this with Tamlin in a more dramatic way before Feyre could see Rhys in a romantic way, Sarah gave us all the clues in the way Azriel thought about Elain hyper sexually, how he called their encounter a mistake, how he focused too much in her mating bond, even in ACOSF we got winks of him limiting Elain when she clearly wanted to help, because she should not be exposed to darkness. Then comes Rhys, asking Azriel the questions we as readers were asking him: what about Mor? No answer. Do you think you deserve Elain? Diverting the answer to say Lucien doesn’t (showing us his possible insecurity towards him). And then we have the Gwyn part, in which we see Azriel’s character actually shine, even if he still can’t see this is actually the way, not the doomed self sabotage relationship he was entertaining with Elain.

The thing is it IS a set up for Elucien and Gwynriel:

Elucien: Lucien was there in the same house when the almost kiss happened, this is a calculated thing, the chapter could have happened a day after and it would have worked perfectly, but no, Lucien was there too. Something tells me Lucien knows what transpired, he probably could feel it, hear it, smell it or at least have some perception of it. And this just adds more angst to what Elain and him are going to go through.

Gwynriel: the obvious banter, exact opposite of Azriel’s and Elain’s interaction (for the better), and the hints of their potential mating bond.

To sum it up, Elriel was a thing before the bonus chapter, thats for sure, but Sarah needed to end it before she could continue, however small and insignificant their relationship actually was. And I don’t agree that this set up a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn, when Azriel said “this was a mistake” Sarah ended any possibility of that, Elain gave him back the necklace she was at first eager to receive, Lucien was there and probably knows something happened, Azriel thought he had been right to stay away, and it ended with him thinking about Gwyn’s glowing eyes and smiling about her.

I hope this answers your question, I actually think the bonus chapter was masterfully written to tell us everything we need to know about what was actually happening inside Azriels head, and give us a hint of his future and the future of the other characters.

If she hadn’t written the first part, then we could’ve never gotten those rich pieces of information into Azriel’s trauma, red flags, jealousy and thought process that will play a part in his own book (because they’re far from resolved). By having both we could see how Elain brings up the worse in him, while Gwyn calms the restlessness inside of him instantly.

#i should have just said elriel are eachothers rebound #i love deep diving into this #elucien #pro elucien #anti e/riel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #azriel shadowsinger #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #gwyneth berdara

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jinhyun · 9 months

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↬part one.

"these days, i haven't been sleepin'

stayin' up playin' back myself leavin'"

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: written series, angst, fluff, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder, yearning, mutual pining, non-idol au, baker!y/n, movie producer!hyunjin.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: y/n has self-sabotaging tendencies, cursing, mentions of alcohol, eventual smut, mature content, MINORS DNI!!!

tag list: open. send me an ASK to be a part of it, otherwise i might miss it. i will only be adding people who are willing to reblog the chapters and/or comment on them, because it does take time out of my day to tag everyone and likes or straight up cricket noises do nothing for me in return if i'm honest.

a/n: so, here's the first part!! idk how long the rest will be but i feel like 4k is okay for now :'). some things were just lightly acknowledged in this part but don't worry, everything will be explained better later on. i hope you guys enjoy!

feedback is very dearly appreciated<3

"You look terrible".

You jolted at Seungmin's remark, feeling your heart race after he had crept up behind you while you focused on neatly placing the freshly made cupcakes in the showcase.

Without saying a word to him as you tried to calm down from the sudden scare, your eyes focused on the large Caramel Macchiato he had placed by you on the counter, smiling softly at his silent show of affection.

"A 'hello' would've been appreciated too, you know?" you hummed, straightening up and leaving the half-emptied tray on the counter before your eyes met your friend's unamused ones.

"I see you every day. Thought we were past hello's by now" he shrugged.

"Are we?" you scrunched up your nose.

"I mean, we should be because it's tiresome to—Just drink your damn coffee".

A throaty laugh escaped your mouth at his sudden exasperation, not waiting another second to follow his order and take a long sip of the beverage he had prepared for you, feeling your muscles relax as soon as the sweetness of it reached your tastebuds.

"Is it good?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "You already know the answer to that, you cocky bastard".

"Doesn't hurt to hear it every once in a while" he smirked proudly.

"What did I even do to deserve a coffee made by the Kim Seungmin anyway?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't ask me to make you at least three of these every day".

"Ask is the keyword" you pointed out, taking another sip of it.

He sighed, finally dropping the playful mood and leaning against the wall. "You seemed out of it…"

"Aww, were you worried about me?" you brought a hand to your chest.

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You didn't even hear me come in. I was literally right next to you making your coffee and you wouldn't notice. And your face is…"

"Do I look that bad?" you wondered.

Seungmin shook his head no, yet the concern on his face was clear. "Just tired as hell. Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really," you sighed, leaving the cup on the counter and running your hands over your face. "I'd say I got like three hours of sleep at most".

"Something happened?" he tilted his head.

You lowered your head, and that was all it took for him to read you like an open book.

"Did you get the invitation?"

You felt the air being punched out of your lungs at Seungmin's question. You had hoped that particular question wouldn't be asked at all that day. You had hoped the topic as a whole wouldn't be brought up. But it was Seungmin, you should've expected him to be up-front about it.

You sighed, nervously wiping your hands against your apron before turning around to head towards the cash register — with absolutely no other purpose than to avoid this conversation.

"Did you?" he pushed it, following hot on your heels. "Y/N, come on".

You said nothing.

The answer was so obvious, you wondered why he wanted you to confirm it to him so bad.

Had it been facing upwards all along, you wouldn't have felt your heart being stabbed by a thousand knives.

Of course you had gotten the invitation. It had been lying on the floor of your apartment all day, patiently waiting by the door for you to arrive.

It had been the first thing that caught your eye as soon as you entered your place, and you cursed at whoever decided to slide it downwards under the door. Had it been facing up, you wouldn't have felt your pressure drop the moment your eyes fell on it. You wouldn't have felt your knees go weak and tremble as you reached down to pick it up, and you wouldn't have felt your face heat up at the same time that tears welled up in your eyes.

Because, for the five seconds that it took for you to kneel down and pick the delicate creme envelope up, and for the ten others that it took for you to gain enough strength to flip it over in your shaking hands, you believed the names on the invitation would be the same two that were the cause of your heartbreak.

Hyunjin and Minji, you said under your breath — cursing once again, over how even their names sounded perfect next to one another.

Please, don't be Hyunjin and Minji.

Please.

As soon as you flipped it over, you felt pathetic. How scarred did you have to be for your first thought to a wedding invite being that Hyunjin and his best friend were getting married?

It had been nearly eight months now since you broke up with him, you would've thought your body wouldn't get such a reaction out of a simple envelope on your floor. And the rational part in you wanted to believe he wouldn’t be marrying someone else when it hadn’t even been a year yet. You knew you wouldn’t; not when you were nowhere near halfway there when it came to getting over him and moving on.

Pathetic, that's how you felt.

Wanting to forget about it all, you threw the invitation on your key table before taking your shoes off and heading to bed. Thankfully, this time it laid facing upwards and wouldn't bring you any more heartbreak, since it now displayed the names of the lovely couple who was about to get married and would like you to join them on such a special day.

Felix and Hyejin.

"Mhm…" you hummed in response after what felt like an eternity.

That was as much of an answer as Seungmin would get from you.

"Are you going?" he inquired.

You shrugged. "Don't know".

"What do you mean you don't know?!" he scoffed. "Y/N, it's Felix and Hyejin we're talking about. We've been friends since the beginning of college. Fuck, we’ve been friends with Hyejin since high school!"

"So?" you helplessly tried to fight back, knowing well enough you were at disadvantage here.

"So?!" Seungmin grew frustrated. "I get that you and Hyunjin broke up and I've been very understanding when it comes to not pushing you into hanging out with our group anymore, but it's our friends' wedding we're talking about this time".

You sighed, leaning against the counter in search of some kind of support. "I know…"

"You can't avoid us forever".

"I haven't avoided you" you pouted.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only reason you didn't push me away like the rest was because we're literally linked by a contract and have to see each other at our coffee shop on the daily".

"Come on now, don't be like that" your voice weakened, reaching for his hand and holding it in between both of yours. "I can't even remember what my life was like before we became friends, I wouldn't have pushed you away out of everyone".

Seungmin's semblance softened — both at your words and at the miserable look in your eyes. In the end, he was all you had, and although honored, he couldn't help but feel his chest hurt over how you had ended up here.

Not even a year ago, you used to have a team of ten people rooting for you. You used to have a perfect support system, and you used to be a part of it for your friends, too. Now, you had managed to close yourself off and push everyone away. You had cleared the way for Hyunjin and Minji to take over, not wanting to make things awkward after everything that went down. After all, you were the one who ended things, it was only fair for you to be the one to take a step back.

Now, it was only him to you. Y/N and Seungmin, just like it had been up until high school.

With a small smile, he squeezed your hand tenderly. "I really think you should go…"

You bit your lip, looking down to your black shoes, which suddenly seemed like the most interesting view in the world.

Truth be told, you wanted to go. For Hyejin and Felix, you wanted to attend. Being there with them on the most important day of their lives would be a dream come true. But you just weren't ready to face their guests — two of them in particular.

"Will you at least think about it?" he pushed it once more when he realised you might not speak up again. "Before sending your confirmation back by the end of the week".

"Will he…" your voice came out of your mouth before you could stop it, still not being able to look up. "Are they…" you sighed, feeling like you might break down from the thought of it alone. "Are they going together?"

It wasn't necessary for you to say their names, for Seungmin knew well enough who 'they' were.

"You made me promise not to ever tell you about them, no matter how hard you begged".

"That was before knowing I'd might have to face them again".

Seungmin smiled reassuringly. "I don't know, if I'm honest".

The glare you gave him was enough to have him step back and hold both hands up as a sign of peace.

"Cross my heart!" he promised. "Lix and Hye had talked about getting married here and there but the invitation took us all by surprise, you would've known if you hadn't left our group chat".

You smiled melancholically. You used to love that group chat, it had been one of your main sources of sanity all throughout college, and later on the source of many callouts from your friends when Hyunjin and you started dating and inevitably became that couple.

You missed it. You missed your friend group, all of them, even Minji, as sad as it was. But being in the same group as her and Hyunjin was something you were not strong enough to make it through, so you left.

"I'm not sure I should go then…" you confessed. "Imagine if they went there together. I would break down right there, Min".

"Aww, no, come here" he pulled you into a hug, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your face into his chest. "I doubt they'll go together, but if they do you can leave. I just want you to show up for Felix and Hyejin, even if you literally only go there to congratulate them and then dip".

A muffled chuckle was heard against his chest. "That would be a bit rude, don't you think?"

"Then stay" he pulled you back by your shoulders, locking his eyes with yours. "You don't even have to look their way. We can go together, I'll make sure to block his view whenever he's within your visual range".

"You'd do that for me?" you pouted.

"Of course, I'll be like your personal bodyguard".

"You should probably gain a bit more muscle for that" you teased, poking his bicep.

"Shut up" he offendedly let go of you.

"You don't have to sacrifice your plus one for me, though" you let him know. "You can take whoever you want with you, I'll be fine".

"Well, it's not like I've got a lot of people lined up to date me, do I?" his snarky remark earned a laugh from you. "Plus, we'd kill three birds with one shot".

"Isn't it supposed to be two?" you tilted your head.

He shook his head. "Three".

You motioned for him to go on with his point.

"The both of us would get a date and wouldn't be put in one of those lame tables for single people so we can mingle" he cringed, and you giggled. "I'd be able to keep you from interacting with Hyunjin and Minji all day long. And, we could make Hwang a lil jealous while at it. I know he was lowkey always jealous of me being close to you".

You snorted, finding his third point absolutely ridiculous. "Oh, come on. What was there to be jealous of?"

"Should I be offended?"

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "But I will take you up on your offer".

"So you're going?!" he cheered up.

"No, I mean… I still have to think of it, but if I do, we should go together".

"Okay then, I guess I'll be waiting" he sighed, quite over dramatically at that. "Please let me know when you make up your mind, so I know whether to check the plus one option or not".

"Will do" you smiled, going back to the long-forgotten cupcakes on the counter in order to keep placing them in the showcase. "Now go see if everything's in order so we can open for the day".

"Yes, boss".

You rolled your eyes. "For the millionth time, I'm not your boss. We're literally associates".

"Yeah, and we're both the bosses here" he reminded you, stealing a salted caramel cupcake from the tray. "Would really appreciate it if you called me boss around our workers from time to time".

"Just go, big boss" you humored him.

Seeing him give you the middle finger while he stuffed his mouth and walked away, you knew the day would go by smoothly.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

When you arrived home later that night, you were confident to check your assistance on the invitation. Seungmin's pep talk that morning had really done the trick, and the fact that it had been a very busy day at the coffee shop hadn't left that much space for overthinking throughout the day.

So, when you walked into your apartment that evening, you confidently grabbed the envelope you had thrown to the table by the entrance the day before and made your way to the desk inside your bedroom.

Taking a seat by it, you allowed yourself to pay attention to the details on the envelope for the first time. Violet had always been Hyejin's favourite colour, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw the few touches of it on the creme paper. Their names were delicately written in cursive with a black pen right in the middle, and it looked so perfect that it actually had you wondering whether it had been written by hand or in a computer.

Just like Hyunjin and Minji, Felix and Hyejin were, too, names that you considered to look perfect together. You wanted to believe Hyunjin and Minji weren't actually meant to be, though — unlike Lix and Hye, who were so fucking perfect for each other, that it only took you one minute with them the day you all met to realise they were meant to be.

Trying to erase the melancholic smile from off your face, you grabbed a black pen and opened the envelope for once and for all.

The words on the paper that informed the details of when and where the event was taking place went right through your head as you searched for the small square you would have to check in order to attend.

You were going.

Yes, you were going.

That's what you repeated to yourself like a mantra while your mind fought with your body, as the still hand holding the pen wouldn't come down to check the goddamn 'I'm attending' box.

You were going.

You had told yourself you were going.

But, after staring blankly at the paper on your desk for five minutes without being able to move, you came down to the conclusion that you couldn't bring yourself to write down on it.

Not when you were reminded of who you might bump into if you ended up attending.

No matter how hard Seungmin tried to block your view, no matter how hard you tried not to look around for him and have tunnel vision for the groom and bride standing on the aisle only, you knew you would somehow end up caving in.

Because no matter how hard you fought it, your eyes would always look for him in a room full of people. And you knew that if you looked and he was with her, your heart would break all over again and you would not be able to control the tears that would come rolling down your face in an instant.

Even if they were not a couple, even if they did not attend as each other's plus one, you knew you would break down at the most minimal of their interactions — because Hyunjin was no longer yours, and he had been hers first.

Granted, they had never been physically involved —as far as you knew and as far as you wanted with everything in you to believe—, and you had always been too scared to ask Minji if she ever had feelings for him, but Hyunjin did have feelings for her. To make matters worse, he used to have them up until right before you and him got romantically involved.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on" Hyunjin said one night.

You had all been drinking at Minho's on a Friday night, just for the sake of having a good time as the best friends you were — all eleven of you.

Hyunjin was on his third drink already and could feel his eyes becoming heavy, but even then, his eyes would light up at the sight of Minji. Your heart tightened at the realisation, having to remind yourself that it was just a crush and you needed to let go of it before you ended up hurt.

You were well aware of it, but it was hard to let it go when you were sitting down next to him on the couch and his knee was ever-so-naturally touching yours. It was hard to let go of it when the two of you got along so well and would spend hours just sitting beside each other talking about anything and everything at the same time.

And it was hard not to feel your chest hurt every single time he would steal a glance towards Minji, who kept laughing at anything that Han said as they talked by the kitchen's entrance.

It hurt, because he looked at her like she held the stars in the sky, and you wished he would look at you the same.

You wished he would look at you like that. Period.

Not her. Only you.

But he did not. You could tell the difference in his chocolate eyes when they focused on you and when they focused on her, and it hurt the same every single time.

"Why don't you tell her?" you asked regardless, trying your best to push your feelings away.

Hyunjin looked at you as if the most stupid of ideas had just come out of your mouth — and, in a way, it had. "We've been friends since we were twelve, there's no way".

"She's gonna find out eventually if you keep saying those things out loud when she's in the same room" you shrugged, bringing your cup to your mouth, quietly sipping down on your beer.

"What? Did I say something? What did I say?" he silently freaked out.

A bitter smile curved up your mouth, which was thankfully covered by the cup still pressed to your lips.

Hwang Hyunjin was so in love with his best friend that he didn't even realise when he called her the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen.

You wished he could ever feel that way about you, but you knew he wouldn't. Between Minji and you, you knew his heart would always choose her. And it was okay. After all, you only had a crush on him. You could make it go away any time.

Oh, how wrong you were. And how you wished it was just a crush.

How you wished you had actually put some effort into making it go away when you had the chance, instead of only letting it grow bigger and stronger by the day.

But not falling for Hyunjin was one of the hardest things you had fought against, and you failed oh-so-miserably at it.

It was his way with words and how he made you feel like the most special person in the world before the two of you were even a thing. It was the way he made you feel like no one else but the both of you existed. The way he would stare and not even try to play it off. The way he would out of nowhere say the sweetest of things to you and expect you not to become a blabbering mess in front of him.

How he would Facetime you at any time of the day just to check up on you and tell you about the plot he had randomly came up with while doing the most mundane of chores; and how he'd show up at your place with your favourite drinks and food, only for the latter to inevitably go cold, as he always seemed to arrive in the middle of your baking sessions, which resulted in him becoming your personal assistant whose commissions would be paid in all the pastries his stomach could handle.

Everything was too perfect for you not to fall head over heels for him.

The darkside of it all was that you only got to experience all that when Minji went abroad for one semester.

He didn't have her anymore, and suddenly he noticed you.

It was as if a switch had been turned off and just like that all the attention he paid to her was now focused on you. It almost felt like he was looking for a replacement in the meantime, and you were too over the moon to realise. Until she came back, and everything you had built together came crashing down.

And maybe it was your fault for letting your insecurities win over the love he claimed to feel for you, but it was hard —if not impossible— for you not to feel like you had just been there to temporarily fill a void.

As soon as she came back, you felt threatened. The second his eyes laid on her and they hugged like they were each other's oxygen after being at the verge of drowning, you knew your days together were counted.

You should've stopped it all back when it was just a crush, when she still hadn't left and you didn't have the chance to have Hwang Hyunjin's attention on you in all its splendor yet.

Maybe then the two of you wouldn't have ended up getting together when she was away. Maybe then you wouldn't have gotten so goddamn insecure when she came back and they inevitably became attached to the hip all over again, like they always were.

Maybe then you wouldn't have gone through the hardest of breakups and the most painful of heartbreaks.

No matter how convinced you were that leaving him was the best you could've done to keep your sanity, you couldn't help but feel like it was not the best choice for your heart.

Ever since you walked away that December night, it felt like something was missing, like you were in a constant state of waiting for something to arrive at your doorstep but it never would.

It was almost comical, how no matter what decision you made, whether you stayed with him or not, your heart would break regardless. If you stayed, your heart would keep hurting every single time you saw him and Minji together. If you left, your heart would hurt over the loss of him.

In the end, you just had to choose the lesser evil. And fuck, letting go of him hurt so damn much you wondered if it was the lesser evil at all.

You wished you could erase that night from your memory. The words you said to push him away and the ones he said to keep you close, the sound of his voice breaking with each sentence leaving his mouth, his gloomy, red eyes looking at you like you had just ripped his heart apart, the endless tears staining those rosy cheeks of his you had just been covering with kisses one day ago.

Everything about it, about how you walked away, you wished you could forget.

It was all on you. You hurt him, and would never forgive yourself for it, no matter how much you convinced yourself it had been the best choice for you.

He had fought for you until the end, and you did not look back from your decision once.

You had lost sleep for weeks after that, and then last night you could not bat an eye as you went through all the possibilities that would come with you attending the wedding. Over and over, you wondered whether you would be able to handle seeing him again after all this time.

Overwhelmed by all the memories and what if's that had been unleashed inside your head by simply staring at that one piece of paper, you took a deep breath and put the pen down.

Although Seungmin’s pep talk had worked wonders to help you get through with the day, and although it had managed to convince you for most of it, you realised it was not a decision you could make that easily. Not that day, at least.

With a heavy heart, you stood up from your desk and decided to make yourself some tea in hopes to ease your mind — leaving the invitation laying there in the darkness of your room, once again left to be forgotten.

You still had the rest of the week to think this through.

tag list: @brinnalaine @slut4colinbridgerton @sherryblossom @svintsandghosts @phenomenalgirl9 @meloncremesoda @jxcesstuff @nhyunn @armystay89 @babrieeee

#skz #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #skz series #stray kids series #hyunjin series

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me.

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

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“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable.

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place.

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget.

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city.

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack.

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem.

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia.

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch.

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel.

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city.

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears.

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul?

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time.

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath.

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?”

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house.

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories.

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones.

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you.

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance.

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive.

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore.

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments.

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice.

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?”

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments.

“Park?”

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease.

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.”

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake.

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin.

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance.

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding.

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds.

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room.

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes.

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate.

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face.

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart.

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating.

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making.

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality.

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group.

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table.

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering.

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge.

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse.

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you.

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at.

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.”

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too.

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you.

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation.

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray.

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.”

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.”

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you.

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.”

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows.

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours.

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively.

It's Jimin.

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere.

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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