#knowing people have talked about it outside of AO3 makes me happy

[peachdoxie]

I decided to search my username in the Danny Phantom discord for funsies and people had some very nice things to say about Trust Your Instincts 🥰

#anecdotes by peachdoxie #trust your instincts #knowing people have talked about it outside of AO3 makes me happy #danny phantom

[girlscience]

i genuinely think fanfic might be ruining my life

#when i say all i do all day is read fic it's not a joke and i'm starting to think it is actually bad for me #it gets in the way of quite literally everything else in my life #it is what i use to deal with any emotion outside of generally happy or vague nothingness #i read it first thing when i wake up i read until the last second i have to get out of bed #i read all day at work and then read all night until my eyes hurt and i have to go to sleep #it makes up 90% of what i think about every single day #it is a huge chunk of what i talk about with other people cause it's all my thoughts #i can't make myself stop reading it #like i actually start going through withdraw or something #it gets hard to think and i can't focus and i can't sit still and i feel so so bored #and it feels like nothing else matters #i used to read science magazines for fun and now i can't even get through one article without feeling like i'm dying #there is some crazy good fic out there but most of what i read is like... the tik tok of stories #it's like the short form version of a book #it is taking over my life (i say that like this hasn't been true for probably a decade at this point) #but i literally don't know how to fix it #i can delete my ao3 but you can read without an account #i guess i could go wholesale and delete the internet off my phone #but i need that for so many other things #i straight up don't know what to do #i might actually need help. like i think i might be addicted the way some people are to social media

[l4long-winded]

mad carmy with sassy reader that doesn’t take his shit!!! (smut!)

ask and you shall receive (happy valentine's day, love)

o.s. fire in the freezer

summary: it's opening night and you're stuck inside the walk-in with your boss, carmen. can the night get any worse? (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: this took me embarrassingly long. i had a lot to get through these past weeks. i still have a busy schedule with college and life, but i want to do more of these. i have about 3 or 4 prompts i need to get to, but i think i'll be able to manage. also, this might be ooc for some people? idk, it's fiction. please enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, longwinded descriptions, angry!carmy, angry!reader, takes place during the season 2 finale (pretending claire doesn't exist), implied enemies to lovers, reader's pov, reader is a line cook(?), arguing, surprise kissing, walk-in shenanigans, dirty talk, mention of fridge guy, use of the word "slutty," walk-in p in v, unprotected (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,140

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

“What the fuck did you just say?”

It’s alarming how crimson his face appears considering the walk-in’s cold air biting at both your limbs, how you imagine the rising heat of his breath combats the freezer’s chill, puffs relaying the steam building within him. It’s a miracle it doesn’t fume from his ears. Fifteen minutes have passed, fifteen minutes of remaining silent as Carmen mouthed off about the unfairness of the situation, how his cell phone doesn’t have service, how he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on out there when your coworkers have seemingly abandoned the both of you to fend for yourselves. You don’t blame him. You don’t want to be in here any more than he does, but there’s this wretched thing about Carmen that he does when tensions are high and his temper flies off the handle. He gets mean. He becomes hurtful. You’ve worked with him long enough to see it occur, the venomous speech he mutters at a high volume as a tendon in his neck protrudes and the person being yelled at flinches in shock. Though such poison’s never been doused over your head, he’s never directed that anger towards you.

Until now. He inadvertently called you an idiot along with the coworkers busying themselves outside the walk-in. There’s not much they can do about the freezer’s handle breaking, and you both know that, but he’s not calming himself down, nor is he making this easier on you when you’re stuck in the same situation as him. You two are prideful and confident in your actions in the kitchen. Sure, you’ve butted heads a few times and stared each other down from afar, but your relationship’s been tame for the most part.

“I said, ‘Stop acting like a fucking cunt.’” You bark back. So much for being tame. You couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. Everyone has the grace and privilege of being able to ignore him since he’s locked away here with you, but unfortunately, you’re not as lucky. You don’t appreciate being talked down to and you won’t take it from your boss just because he’s irate and the world is crumbling beneath your feet. You want to head out there and contribute to the restaurant as he does, but you’re also not spewing hateful soliloquies to the one person who could possibly understand what you’re going through. That, and it’s fucking cold in here, you’re irritated by the temperature frosting over your skin. It’s opening night and you’re stuck with your least favorite person in the kitchen—your least favorite person possibly in Chicago. The last thing you’re going to do is sulk near the stored ingredients while he shouts and pounds away at the freezer’s door.

This is his fucking fault. How fucking dare he? Why are you paying for his sin?

Just as it did the first time, the second time renders him, miraculously, speechless. It’s not because he doesn’t have anything to reply back, this is evident in how he purses his lips together and clenches his jaw. You notice it flex as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, previously hidden by the collar he’s now unbuttoned. He stares at you with a pointed gaze, eyebrows ever so slightly knitted inwards. Neither of you has to utter a single word to understand how much you can’t fucking stand each other, how Carmen is purposely holding back since you’ve caught his petulant tantrum and condescended him for it. The absence of sound between you two is grim as if he’s waiting for the apology, but fuck him, you’re not apologizing for shit. Instead, you mimic his facial expression like he’s staring into a mirror, crossing your arms against your chest for good measure to illustrate the guard he won’t be breaking through anytime soon.

Carmen steps forward. It’s a singular step. There’s only backwards to go before you end up meeting the shelves, so you remain where you are. His body heat radiates, prominent not because you’re that close, but because the freezer’s becoming more unforgiving the longer you’re both in here.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

You blink rapidly as if he’s a mirage, as if he’ll disappear, and as if he’s grown two other heads. He wants you to say it again? Is this some kind of a test? It has to be. There aren’t many other options, besides how he steps even closer within your vicinity and away from the locked palisade ahead. The temperature rises, and the fucked part about it is that your body’s instinctual need to survive urges you to collide into his frame to share feverish flames instead of standing in the chilled atmosphere on your lonesome. Carmen’s mandibles buckle, a sign of his bottled intentions, of what he really wants to say. You wish he’d just spit it out rather than goad you into the unemployment line.

“Call me a cunt again,” he dares and confirms your previous thoughts. He’s standing so close, proximity lacking to the point where his hot breath ghosts your nose and cheeks. Again, your instincts urge, and again, you will them to shut the fuck up and let me handle this. How convoluted and capricious you are. Arguing with innate impulses on the inside while arguing with your superior on the outside, fastened to him inside an icy cage as your coworkers take advantage of the kitchen’s liberating space without you. Fuck them too, they haven’t told either of you shit in what feels like forever and Carmen’s acting out of character. He’s not supposed to be with you like this. He’s not supposed to be gazing at you like he’s about to blow up. He’s not supposed to be challenging you into an impossible situation. You’ve called him a cunt twice. Twice. Three times symbolize the three strikes before you’re out.

Well, if you’re going out, you’re going down swinging your bat as hard as you can, spins and all, dirt flying and wind ricocheting. He’s thrown his virulence. Now, it’s your turn.

“Cun—nnnmph,” is not what you expected to utter, but before you could punctuate that final phoneme, Carmen’s mouth swallowed it greedily, and transitioned it into an astonished noise muffled by his lips. Your eyes flutter, searching his face for a way to explain why the hell this is happening, but suddenly, Carmen shifts his head, the kiss he’s sprung on you deepening, and an accidental swipe of his tongue shuts your eyes. All in a matter of two conflicted seconds.

“Thought you,” you murmur between his stifling, repeated connections, “wanted me to,” he’s practically shoving his tongue against yours, “call you a–”

He grunts in frustration. Seemingly towards you. His hands grasp your biceps, forcing your eyes onto his as his breathing shallows out. “Believe me, it won’t be the only time you put a cunt in my mouth tonight,” he says sharply. You don’t know why your thighs tremor. You fault the near-hypothermia.

“Shit, you’re cold,” he states the obvious as his attention turns to his palms on your arms, as if he didn’t just plant such a filthy image in your mind’s eye. His thumbs stroke over your goosebumps, examining your skin with careful scrutiny. If you didn’t know any better, you swear you see worry cross his visage for a moment. His hands aren’t any better, but they’re warmer than your flesh, and skin-to-skin makes this situation a little more bearable. You won’t tell him that, but he seems to have an idea of how you’re not flinching away from his touch. In fact… you’re leaning into it.

“Of course I am. It’s the walk-in,” you say sarcastically. “Wouldn’t be here if you had just called Tommy,” you add, but he exhales a heavy breath through his nose. He shrugs off his jacket to his Chef’s Whites, rolling his eyes, muttering something to himself about Tony, Terry, and Tommy, fucking fuck it all.

“Shut the fuck up, put this on, and turn around,” he hands you the jacket. He had the prerogative of wearing sleeves in here, so he’s not as frigid as you are (temperature-wise, anyway).

“It’ll keep you warm while I fuck you,” he promises, hard gaze on your eyes. You gulp, a desire within you to tell him off for being so presumptive of what’s happening here. Yet, that desire is viciously censored in favor of the desire to do as he says, or more so, the idea of being railed to distract you from how cold you are.

You slip his jacket on, pivoting on your heel, biting your tongue as you lean forward and grasp the metal belonging to the shelves ahead. The inside of his sleeves are already snug and cozy on your arms because of how long he wore it. You hate it. The smug bastard’s not supposed to be right.

You gulp as Carmen’s knuckles graze your lower back, lifting his jacket out of his way for a moment to tug at the waistband of your pants. You hear his breathing stutter, his hand skimming down the sensitive flesh of your ass as his eyes trace over the thin fabric of the panties you chose today.

“Is your underwear always this slutty?” He asks, his voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. To be fair, you didn’t know this would be happening today.

“Find out tomorrow,” you settle for. It seems to be the appropriate response because he groans and kneads at the flesh gathered at your hip as an appreciative gesture. This won’t be the last time this happens. It can’t be.

There’s rustling behind you. You hear the sound of Carmen’s belt before you feel the cold metal prod at the meat of your posterior, sent forward since he’s not fully tugging the leather material from the loops of his pants. It’s just enough for him to get at his zipper, the noise causing your hands to grip the shelves ahead of you even tighter. Carmen’s thumbnail slides along your skin as he tucks his thumb under your panties to position them to the side. The blunt head of him strokes at your entrance, his opposite hand pushing between your shoulder blades to exacerbate the bend at your hips and the pretty dip in your spine.

“You’re really hard for a man who’s surrounded by this much cold,” you mutter smugly. It’s all your doing, revving up his engine through simply challenging him amid his grizzly attack.

However, the smugness dies on your tongue once Carmen pushes in. He didn’t offer you a smartass response, instead offering you the breach of his length, the swollen head of him prying at your soaked walls up until his hips are flush with yours. Your trembling returns and it’s no longer because of the cool air, but because Carmen begins to thrust the second your cunt gives to him. Wrath fades from your mouth, and a moan replaces it, indicating your lust and enjoyment from this, much to your own dismay.

“M’this hard because I was thinking about how fucking warm you’d be around me,” he grunts, leaning over you and jostling you with his strong movements. His pace isn’t brutal, but the pressure of each of his thrusts is. He pulls back and then buries himself as deep as he could go, the sounds of his effort being in the way his hips collide with the flesh of your ass, a smack every time he hits it just right. And fuck, does he hit it just right. The horrible thing is it’ll stroke his massive ego. The great, amazing, toe-curling thing is that it feels like nirvana. The tip of his cock becomes acquainted with a pivotal point within you that has your vision blurred, unable to make out a single label of the cans and containers in front of your face.

“H-how warm is it?” You manage. Somehow. Conversation isn’t your prerogative while you’re bent over and being receptive, gasping for air every time you attempt to shift your hips back into him and he surpasses another inch inside of you. But you’re curious.

“Like a damn furnace,” he answers quickly, increasing his pace just as fast as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Tighter than I imagined,” he confesses, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. Your feet shuffle apart, legs spreading further for him as you pant and do your best not to whine. You can’t give him that satisfaction.

But it’s no use. His name shoots off your tongue like a prayer, a Freudian slip, his middle finger stroking along your clit in time with his bruising plunges.

“Wet, so, so fucking wet,” he continues, “drenching me and setting me on fire at the same fucking time.”

Fuck, you hope they never open that door.

#l4l.writes #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #the bear fic #the bear #fire in the freezer #l4l.oneshot

[sapphickorro]

Black Sheep´ˎ˗

Pairing(s) - intersex!virgin!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

summary: The mysterious girl of the campus shows up to a party for the first time, turns out you’re the first person to get to know her in more ways than one.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, blow jobs, frat party, college!reader and college!natasha, loss of virginity, first time, natasha has a dick, dirty talk, smut

word count:  2,308

ao3 - masterlist

End of exam parties were a big thing at your university. Friends of friends were invited to one giant frat house to celebrate the last major party before winter break. There’d be so many partygoers to the point that people would start to shift outside to the front lawn to party. You were sat on a couch scoping the room out for a potential hookup. Your friend group surrounded you talking about menial things until your friend’s voice broke you out of your trance. 

“Holy shit, is that Natasha Romanoff?” 

You twist your head to the area they were all looking at. A red haired girl was standing by the door with a red cup in her hand clearly looking as if she didn’t want to be there. She was dressed like a secret agent trying not to be spotted. A completely black attire topped off with a black leather jacket. 

Natasha Romanoff was the black sheep of the campus. She wasn’t shy, she was just reserved. Never raising her hand to answer questions in class, never going out of her way to make friends. If you had books in your hands and needed a door opened, she would never be the one to go out of her way to open it. 

She was the definition of mysterious, having no social media, no friend group, and always wearing those wired earbuds to drown the world out. You would either think she was weird or extremely attractive. She was definitely easy on the eyes so most girls on the campus were caught fawning over her, wanting to be the one to break her cold facade. 

“I’m surprised she decided to show up.” Your friends started talking about the stories they heard about her, whether they were true or not. 

“Well I think you should go talk to her.” Darcy, one of your closest friends, nudges your elbow catching you staring at her. 

“I don’t know…she seems like she’d want to be left alone.” You turn to look back at your friend.

“Maybe she secretly has a warm gooey side to her that someone needs to unlock. I would try but I don’t know if Jane would be very happy with me flirting with her.”  

“You know what else is warm and gooey?” Your other friend, Valkyrie says. You roll your eyes as everyone around you starts to laugh at the innuendo. “Alright, I’m gonna ditch you guys and hang out with a MUCH cooler person.” You get up to walk to Natasha and you hear your friends cheering you on behind you. 

Your brain goes through every possible thing to say to her but when you finally reach her, all that comes out of your mouth is, “Hey.” 

She stares at you and you falter under her gaze. Every ounce of confidence leaving you at the awkwardness of the situation. “I didn’t see you as a party type of person.” You add, trying to get a conversation flowing between the two of you. 

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She just stares at you as if she didn’t understand what you were saying. “Okay! Good talk. Have fun!” You say throwing up finger guns and slowly backing out of there. You hide yourself behind the crowd of dancers at the center of the house and speed walk back to your friend group. 

You friends notice you and start to berate you with questions.”What did she smell like?” “No, better yet, what did she sound like? Does she have an accent?” “Was she as cool as we imagined?” 

“She didn’t say anything, she just stared at me.” You say grabbing your drink off the coffee table and chugging it. You tell your friends about everything that happened in the short three minutes that you were there and they burst into a laughing fit.

“Wait, you threw up FINGER GUNS?” Darcy grabs your shoulders, shaking you. “You have absolutely no game. No wonder she just stared at you.” Monica adds.

“Okay, guys. What if English isn’t her first language and she was staring at Y/N because she didn’t understand what she was saying. What if she’s so mysterious because she literally doesn’t speak English.” Kate tries to pitch in with everyone replying with mixed reactions.

“Why would she attend an all American college IN America if she didn’t understand English. I’m calling b.s.” Monica logics back and everyone breaks into an argument about what they think Natasha’s story was. You were just glad that they dropped how embarrassing your interaction with her was. 

The party was slowly fizzling out. People had left to go get food or to have hookups. Thor and Carol thought it’d be fun to have all the remaining people play a game of seven (or more) minutes in heaven.

You’re all sat on the floor of the guest bedroom in the house and a glass bottle gets placed in the middle. “Alright, is everyone playing?” Thor asks as he takes his seat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice red hair walk in and stand by the door frame.

“Natasha, you playing?” He asks and doesn’t receive an answer back. The silence becomes awkward as he lets out a cough and says, “Okay then, I assume this means Natasha is playing.”  

Everyone takes turns spinning the bottle, some people returning from the closet with their clothes wrinkled and hair messy. When it becomes your turn, you cross your fingers hoping for someone you knew to hopefully ease the awkwardness. 

It lands on Natasha and everyone gasps. You watch as she walks to the closet and you stand up following suit. Your friends hoot and holler behind you.

When you enter the closet, you notice how there’s enough room for four people to fit but no more. You close the door behind you and you quickly open your mouth. “You know, we don’t have to do-”

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She nonchalantly says to you, causing your eyes to widen by a fraction. You quickly relax trying to not make the atmosphere as awkward as it was earlier. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say because I think you’re very attractive. I’m not used to pretty girls trying to talk to me.” For the first time, you catch her looking down at the ground. Her hands folded in front of her chest. 

“You think I’m pretty?” She lightly nods and your face warms up. “But you’ve only just met me. I’m sure there’s many other girls who are very pretty and try to talk to you.”

“Actually, I knew you before the party. You sit in front of me in bio class.” Natasha looks up at you again, her face is emotionless, making you unsure about how she actually feels. 

“You…noticed me?” You’re surprised that Natasha Romanoff was more perspective than you and everyone else thought she was. You’re even more surprised that she’s admitting to admiring you.

“Is that creepy?” You hear a tint of nervousness in her voice and quickly ease her worries. 

“No, not at all! I’m just. Surprised.” You’re unsure of what to do with your hands so you start to fidget around, trying to avoid her intense gaze. “What are you doing at this party then?” You finally break the silence.

“My sister urged me to come.” 

“Who’s your sister?” Your curiosity peaks as you might be one of the first people to ever hold such a long conversation with her. 

“I’m older than her but she’s more popular than me, her name’s Yelena.” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yelen Belova is your sister?!” She answers with a nod, unsurprised that you’ve heard of her sister. 

Yelena Belova was a stark contrast to Natasha. She’s extremely popular for the parties she hosts and her easygoing attitude. Her social media presence is also astounding. She helps fundraise for the university racking in thousands of dollars yearly. Her influence on the school helps her escape from situations that normal people would be expelled for. She most likely played a big role in helping set up this giant frat party. 

“You’re like, so different from her though.” You notice her apprehension about talking about her sister and decide to drop the topic. “I think you’re way cooler than her though.” 

She smiles for the first time and it makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Can I…kiss you?” She asks for your permission and you blink at her unsure if you heard her right. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean to make this weird-” You’re the one to cut her off this time, taking her lips into yours. Her hands stay awkwardly at her sides and take initiative to place them onto your hips. You move your own hands down her chest, starting to take off her leather jacket.

You stick your tongue into her mouth and she pulls back, her face flushed. “Sorry, did I go too far?” You quickly apologize, moving your hands away from her jacket.

“No!” She yells a little too loudly. “Sorry, I meant. No. It’s just, I’ve never done something like this.” Her pale face is flushed and she’s already out of breath.

“Done what?” You question her further. 

“I’ve never. Been with someone…intimately.” She admits quietly, shying away from your eyes.

“Oh. We can stop if you want.” 

“No, I want to keep going.” Natasha’s hold on you tightens. You smile at her, feeling special that she trusts you enough to be her first.

“Well, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You pull away from her grip to start undressing yourself. You give her a show as you slowly unzip your bodycon dress. She stares at your body as your braless chest gets freed. She practically drools over your breasts. 

You chuckle and get closer to her. “You see something you like?” She nods slowly, her eyes widening slightly. 

“You can touch.” You grab her fists and relax them, lifting them up to your chest allowing her to cup them. When she starts to experiment by rubbing her thumbs over your hardened nipples, you exaggerate a moan causing her face to redden again. Her breaths come out rugged and heavy. 

You lean in to capture her lips again, slowly moving your hands down to her bulge and lightly rubbing the hardon that protrudes out from her jeans. She whimpers in your mouth. 

You pull back and start to kiss down her neck. She moves her head slightly to the right to give you more room to mark. “W-what if they kick us out for taking too long.” She barely gets her words out.

“Oh baby, youre Natasha fucking Romanoff. They'd give you all the time in the world.” You smirk into her neck and move your hands to start undressing her. She helps you out by removing her jacket and pulling off her shirt from over her head revealing her abs and toned muscles. 

“Wow.” You whisper out. Now you’re the one to admire her body and she cowers under your gaze. You run your hands down her body to her covered cock. 

You kneel down onto your knees slowly unzipping her jeans. Once they slide off, you palm her noticeable bulge forming a tent in her boxers. She jerks her hips up at your touch and she whines out, “Please Y/N.” 

You decide to not tease her any longer and pull her boxers down. Her cock stands straight and pulses at the blood rushing through it. You slide your hand down the member and she groans at finally being touched. Your tongue swipes around her tip collecting all of her precum onto your mouth.

You moan at her taste before swooping in and taking her full length into your mouth. 

“F-fuck.” Natasha’s hands go back to her awkwardly placing them by her side and you pull out to her disapproval. 

“Guide me.” You place her hands behind your head. “What if I hurt you?” You chuckle at her.

“I may gag a bit but that’s only because you’re so big. I don’t want you to stop until my face goes blue and I’m crying. Use me like a fleshlight.” You smirk up at her and begin kitten licking her tip. She bites her lip slowly pushing your head onto her cock again. You can tell she’s nervous but with your words, she slowly moves your head back and forth more. 

Her confidence builds along with her pleasure. The small room is filled with her grunts and the noises of your ministrations on her. 

You stare up at her with doe eyes, drool running down your mouth. Natasha’s face is flushed and her eyes are hooded. She stares at you lustfully.

You start to play with her balls and maneuver your tongue so she feels even better. She contorts her face, “I’m gonna-”

She’s unable to finish her sentence as liquid floods into your mouth. You swallow every last drop until she lets go of your head with a pop. 

“Fuck.” She says catching her breath as you clean off your mouth with your hand. After she calms down from her orgasm, the two of you get dressed. 

“Where are you going?” She asks you while putting her jacket back on. “Home, you should come with. We have all of winter break to be together.” You wink at her before opening the door and walk through the people still sitting there, having abandoned the game and now just talking about plans for their break. 

They quiet down, noticing the two of you walk through the crowd and out the door. Natasha follows behind like a lost puppy. “You think they noticed?” She whispers to you.

“Oh, they for sure did.” You respond as you feel the phone in your hands start vibrating with notifications from your group chat. 

#﹔﹒ korro writes﹒ ෆ #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | winter special

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |

Summary: You’re in labor and live outside of the city, and it just happens to be Christmas time, there’s a lot of snow. Will you and Yoongi be able to make it to the hospital before your baby arrives?

OR– The one where Yoongi fucks you into labor and crashes the car 🙃 (It’s set about 1,5 years after friendcation ended) 🙂

it's obviously part of a series, but it can totally be read as a standalone oneshot (though there's some jokes you might not get, but that's all).

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

Other characters: Jimin 😇 + the rest of the gang makes an appearance at the end too 💜

AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, pregnancy!au, established relationship, married!au, mechanic!Yoongi, holiday!au.

Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff

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 🌸

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings (general) + triggers: sex while pregnant, minor car accident, a lot of crack and humor too, because otherwise it wouldn’t be friendcation. Slight angst. Possessive Yoongi. Jimin deserves a warning too 👀 (it’s always Jimin)! Giving birth in a car in a somewhat detailed description (without medical help). Breastfeeding a baby. A lot of kissing.

Warnings (explicit): smut in the form of unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, breast play, nipple play (with a little bit of lactation), flashing/exposure of vagina and boobs, comfort sex (Yoongi making sure OC is comfortable the whole time 🥺), strong orgasms, blood (because of childbirth, but barely mentioned).

Author’s note: this couple just wouldn’t leave me alone 😂 So here we are, with a winter special. I really hope you like it. It was so fun to write, I just love their relationship and then also with their friends, especially Jimin 🤭 I might do more specials through time, I don’t know. Don’t know if people are interested (but I’d probably write it anyway, lol). Like, we still don’t know how Yoongi proposed, their wedding, their honeymoon 👀

This has different povs, mainly Yoongi's, then Jimin's and reader's (I hope it isn't too confusing).

Thank you so much – and thanks to all that likes, comments, reblogs, yeah, anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, it makes me so happy and a damn smiling fool 💜

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **if you wish to be removed from the taglist, let me know 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

He is used to it.

But ever since you became pregnant, it’s been getting worse.

Your sleep moaning, that is.

And it’s always turning him on.

His frustration simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the magnetic allure you effortlessly wield. Yet, with a single glance from you, his resolve melts away like butter on a warm summer day. This magnetic power you wield over him isn't a recent revelation; it's been your enchanting spell, cast long before that memorable camping trip more than a year ago.

Memories surge like a tidal wave, setting his irises ablaze with vivid snapshots of you both, entwined amidst the intimate cocoon of his van, sheets tangled in the echoes of passion.

Countless adventures and camping escapades have unfolded since that fateful journey with your friends, yet it's the kaleidoscope of memories created with you that he holds as precious treasures, each moment a vibrant gem in the tapestry of your relationship.

At last, his gaze shifts towards you, and he beholds the tranquility that graces your sleeping form, nestled beside him. There you lie, on your back nonetheless, which really mustn't be nice considering your big belly.

You’re almost nine months pregnant and the baby can come any minute, he knows.

You’d been trying to conceive for some time, a delightful excuse to have sex all the damn time–although, truth be told, he never needed one.

He feels his dick strain against the confines of his boxers and he wonders  whether to rouse you from slumber, it's not merely the urgency of his arousal but the genuine concern for your well-being—your supine position hindering blood flow and oxygen to the precious life within your belly. 

Thus, with a tender touch, he delicately stirs you from your peaceful slumber.

Initially met with silence, your slumbering form stirs slightly, emitting a soft murmur of both moans and snores.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he observes your endearing response, yet undeterred, he persists in gently prodding you.

In a hushed and tender tone, he attempts to reach out to you with a gentle “Babe,” his voice a delicate whisper, carrying the weight of affection.

As your head gracefully pivots towards him, your eyes, like delicate butterflies, flutter open in response to the gentle call. A soft smile graces his lips, a silent serenade to the gradual awakening of your consciousness.

As consciousness fully embraces you, your eyes roam the dimly lit room before finding solace in his gaze.”Why did you wake me? It’s the middle of the night…” you inquire, the bedroom's shadows bearing witness to the query that hangs in the air.

With a gentle yawn, you pivot your body, settling into the comforting curve of your side. In the quiet accomplishment of this subtle shift, one of his cherished missions finds completion.

In a tender tone infused with love, he begins, “You were sleeping on your back. It’s not good for the baby,” his words a gentle caress carrying the weight of concern for the precious life cradled within your belly.

A warmth infuses your smile as you meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude for the depth of his concern and the wellspring of love that envelops you both.

And with a playful chuckle lacing his words, he adds, “And you were moaning too.” Your laughter joins his, and you both know what this means.

“You’re always horny, Yoon.” you tease, your hands exploring the contours of his body with purpose. Swiftly finding the elastic of his boxers, you trace the outline of his dick with a deliberate touch, a dance of desire that unfolds seamlessly between you.

Your hand glides sensually over him, a teasing caress through the fabric of his boxers, and a guttural groan of pleasure escapes his lips.

He seizes your hand, bringing a pause to the tantalizing dance between you. “Do you want to, babe?” he inquires, his gaze a reflection of both restraint and anticipation, hanging on the unspoken words between you.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your body and mind fully alive, the air already charged with the unmistakable electricity that Yoongi seems to effortlessly ignite within you. You’re already soaked in your panties, and with a whispered moan, you confess, “Yes, I need you Yoongi.”

Gently guiding your hand away from his cock, he inches closer, turning you to lay on your side facing away from him.

Swiftly seizing his pillow, he artfully tucks it beneath the gentle curve of your belly, sculpting a cocoon of support and comfort.

Nestling his head into the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, savoring the heady and intoxicating essence that is uniquely yours. It's more than a fragrance; it's a potent elixir that courses through him, a sensory drug that elicits an involuntary response—a subtle, primal twitch in the fabric of boxers.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, intimately shared in the cocoon of your embrace, as he senses your shiver echo through his touch.His skilled hand embarks on a journey, tenderly caressing your breasts, lingering over the soft expanse of your tummy where the fluttering life within makes its presence known. As his exploration ventures lower, he cups your pussy outside your panties.

Your hips undulate into his dick, a rhythmic dance that draws an involuntary duet of pleasure-laden moans from both of you. His awareness sharpens, attuned to the undeniable evidence of your arousal. With a deliberate touch, he tugs your panties aside, revealing your drenched pussy.

Initiating a delicate exploration, he trails his fingertips along the contours of your folds, gathering the essence of your arousal before skillfully guiding a single digit into the velvety warmth of your desire.

With a rhythmic precision, he starts a sensual dance, his digit sliding in and out of your eager core. Each movement draws forth an increasing symphony of heavy pants, and he can already hear that you’re not gonna last long.

Adding another skilled finger, he intensifies the intimate pleasure, a seamless union of sensation as your bodies synchronize in a provocative dance. Your backside grinds into the rigid length of his desire, fueling his fervor to push the limits further. With an escalating pace, his fingers move within you, a crescendo of pleasure building with every adept stroke.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you urgently plead, “I'm so close, Yoongi. Touch my clit instead,” your voice a desperate plea. He complies with a deft move, withdrawing his slickened fingers from the depths of your core to redirect their attention, skillfully navigating the peaks of your pussy with an intoxicating dance against your throbbing clit.

Yoongi has become attuned to the cadence of your breath, a masterful symphony that he has memorized like the back of his hand. In the harmonious rhythm, he discerns the telltale signs that you are on the precipice of ecstasy—so close that the intoxicating anticipation hangs in the air like an electric charge.

His fingers move in a tantalizing dance, tracing circles around your clit with an intimate familiarity. As he senses you teetering on the brink, your breaths hang heavy in the charged air, and the ethereal moans escape your lips like a whispered melody. In a bold move, he pinches your clit. Your body responds in an electric surge, tension radiating through every inch of your being, held in the exquisite grip of his deliberate touch.

Returning to the rhythmic circles on your clit, he guides you through the waves of your orgasm, a seismic tremor that reverberates through your being. Each stroke of his touch acts as a steady anchor, grounding you in the aftermath of what feels like an earth-shattering climax.

You gasp for air, your breaths coming in furious bursts, and in a voice drawn out with need, you moan his name—a melody of pleasure that lingers in the charged air between you.

“'Fuck!” escapes you in a guttural moan, your hands clenching into fists under the watchful gaze of his darkened, appreciative eyes. 

Withdrawing his hand from the depths of your core, he endeavors to temper the tempestuous movements coursing through you, a steadying touch anchoring your fervent reactions with a gentle grip on your hips. 

“'Damn. It's like the orgasm is lingering,” you confess in a strained voice, leaving Yoongi uncertain whether to interpret it as a blissful prolongation or a potential intensity that might overwhelm you. 

“What do you mean?” he inquires, his voice a warm breath against your neck.

“It's just... I can feel it all the way around my stomach,” you pant, the lingering sensations creating a unique symphony within you. “Ah, it's probably Braxton Hicks contractions, because of the orgasm,” you assert with a newfound certainty. In response, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment, his hand delicately finding its place on your belly, where he can feel the subtle tightness.

“Are you sure it’s just that?” he questions, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow. Yet, as your assurance unfolds, a palpable relaxation courses through the muscles of your belly. “Yeah, they're fading now,” you confirm.

“Yoongi, I need you inside me now,” you declare, your words a sultry plea as you sensually grind your ass into the rigid bulge within his boxers. 

With a sharp intake of breath, he hisses, seizing your hips in a possessive grip, molding you against the heat of his pelvis.

Effortlessly, he peels your panties down your thighs, and you willingly lift your legs to aid in their complete removal. As he holds the damp evidence of your arousal in his hand, a wicked glint in his eyes betrays the realization, damn they are soaked. Without a second thought, he discards them to the floor.

“'Is this position comfortable for you?” he tenderly inquires, a gentle concern threading through his words as he sheds his boxers. Adjusting his position, he moves slightly, aligning himself with the contours of your core from behind.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Lying down and approaching from behind, the fit feels unusually snug. Yoongi, with deliberate intent, spreads your ass cheeks, his hand tracing a teasing path before he strokes his arousal, the anticipation building. As he aligns with the entrance to your core, a slow and deliberate entrance ensues, eliciting a moan from you.

An almost primal growl escapes your lips as he sinks in, each agonizingly slow inch a delicious torment. It's not just amazing; it's an exquisite tightness that makes you acutely aware of his presence, as if you can feel him reverberating through every fiber of your being, from the deepest reaches of your pussy to the intimate confines of your uterus.

Yoongi indulges in a series of deliberate thrusts, each movement a slow dance that unveils the exquisite tightness enveloping him. With each rhythmic advance into your core, he keenly senses the escalating tension in your body.

“Yoon,” you pant, the syllables a breathless plea that lingers in the charged air. Yoongi, attuned to your every reaction, halts his movements, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “I can feel you everywhere inside, fuck.”

“Is it good, or should we stop?” he asks, a genuine concern etched across his features. His desire is not just for pleasure but for your comfort and satisfaction.

“No, it's good for now, but I'll let you know if it gets too intense, okay? Maybe we can change positions then?” you inquire, your voice a sultry whisper that hangs in the air. As you sensually grind your ass down into his pelvis, fucking yourself on his cock, a soft moan leaves your lips.

Yoongi releases a low, guttural moan against the sensitive skin of your neck, his reverberating pleasure mingling with lust between you. His hand journeys down the curve of your hips, gripping them with a possessive urgency. In this tactile exchange, he finds stability, a grounding force that allows him to drive into you once more, each thrust a testament to the fervor building between you.

As you surrender completely against him, a harmonious synchrony of pleasure unfolds. Sensing the shift, he accelerates his thrusts, a rhythmic dance that quickens the desire between you. 

Yoongi inhales deeply against the canvas of your neck, and in a sudden, electrifying twist, you feel the graze of his teeth. Your body shivers with anticipation, and then he descends, sinking his teeth into your neck. Not too forcefully, but with a compelling intensity that sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your body responds in kind, grinding against his, and a sinful moan escapes you.

Then, with a sensual grace, he traces the path where his teeth had left their mark, his tongue delicately caressing your neck before placing soft, lingering kisses. Your response is a sultry mewl, the audible manifestation of pleasure, and in the electric aftermath, you feel a surge of arousal saturate his dick.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you gasp, “Yoongi, I'm—,” the words trailing off into a passionate pant as he skillfully drives into you, each thrust an artful symphony of pleasure that transcends language, leaving you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Hmm?”

His grip on your hips tightens, and with each deeper thrust, the world around you seems to blur as you swear that, despite the physical limitations of the position, you can feel him everywhere. It's an overwhelming sensation, almost too much.

“I want to change positions,” you pant, and in an instant, Yoongi withdraws, his response swift and attentive. With a purposeful motion, he turns you around, orchestrating a seamless transition that repositions you to face him once again.

“What do you want to do?” he smiles, his gaze tender as he caresses your cheek with the gentle strokes of his long, slender fingers. In the delicate dance of his touch, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and appreciation.

“I want to ride you,” you confess, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. As you pull away, a playful smile dances across your face, your eyes reflecting a potent mix of love and lust.

“Fuck, yeah, babe,” he breathes in eager agreement, turning to lie on his back. As you discard the pillow he thoughtfully fetched for you, you proceed to shed your nightgown, leaving both of you completely bare.

With a graceful motion, you hike one leg over his body, settling into a commanding straddle. Your hand confidently takes hold of his dick, aligning it with the eager warmth of your pussy again. A smile plays on your lips as you gaze down at him, relishing the empowering intimacy of having him beneath you in this moment.

His smile mirrors the adoration and appreciation he feels as he takes in every incredible feature of yours. As you descend slowly onto his cock, your face flushes a subtle shade of red, your quivering lips betraying the intensity of your desire. Your nipples stand proudly, and your gracefully rounded belly hangs low, a testament to the life you’ve both created and soon to welcome into the world.

God he loves you. So fucking much. In his eyes, you’re a goddess.

As you lower yourself onto his dick, a duet of moans escapes both of you, the soft stretch heightening the sensory experience. The angle of this position enhances the feeling, and in the synchronized exchange of pleasure, you both revel in the palpable sensation that binds you together.

“Fuck, Yoon!” you pant, the breathless exclamation escaping your lips as you reach the apex of his pelvis, his cock filling you up completely. 

“'Ah! It's so much better like this,” you moan, the words dripping with satisfaction and pleasure as you take control, beginning to ride him with a rhythmic motion. 

Yoongi's hands find purchase on your hips, their firm grasp not only steadying you but becoming an integral part of the rhythmic dance as you bounce on his dick. 

It's undeniably exquisite, the sensation heightened by the captivating sight of you taking control, sending Yoongi into a feral state of desire. The raw power of your dominance, setting the pace and depth, fuels an irresistible fire within him. Your expressions—those eyes closing in lust, the whimpering pleas—seemingly unravel his restraint, threatening to push him over the edge. 

“You look so good, bouncing on my dick. Such a good girl,” he pants, the words imbued with a husky appreciation. His hands, slightly squeezing your hips, become a tactile affirmation, letting you know that every movement is not just good but exceptionally arousing. 

You keen in response to his praise, a melodious symphony of pleasure that resonates in the air. Empowered by the encouragement, you guide yourself down deeper, every movement an exquisite dance that intensifies the feeling of being incredibly full.

“Yoongi, I don't think I'm gonna last long,” you pant, the admission hanging in the air like an electrifying confession. Sensing the imminent climax, you slow your movements, the deliberate deceleration amplifying the anticipation.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you, “I’m not going to either.”

You chuckle at him, the sound a melodic blend of pleasure and fatigue as you continue to bounce on his arousal. “I'm also so damn tired. This is challenging with my belly being this big,”

“I can take over if you want—or we can try another position?” His offer is laced with genuine concern, a desire to ensure you don't strain or tire yourself unnecessarily. 

“No! I love this. I want to ride you,” you moan, the words a passionate declaration as you sink down on him once more. The anticipation of your impending orgasm begins to unfurl in the depths of your stomach.

“Yoongi—, I'm close,” you pant, the admission a breathless revelation as you continue to move at a languid pace, the enticing rhythm showcasing the delightful bounce of your tits with each motion.

He has always been captivated by the allure of your tits—a mesmerizing aspect of your physicality that leaves him in awe. A part of him remains undecided, caught in the delightful dilemma of whether he prefers your tits or your ass, a choice he'd willingly forego, harboring a fervent desire for both.

Your hands find purchase on his sculpted pectorals, seeking support as exhaustion sets in, causing your movements to slow, each languid motion bringing you closer to climax. His gaze lingers on your face, a canvas painted with the intensity of the moment—sweat glistening, mouth slightly agape, and eyebrows creased in ecstasy as you fervently ride him, lost in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.

He senses a primal twitch within as he stays deep within you, and his gaze traces a path down your neck where the evidence of his love bite remains visible. Continuing his journey, his eyes appreciate the sight of your wonderful, bouncy tits.

Withdrawing both of his hands from your hips, they now tenderly grasp both of your tits. “These are so wonderful, as is every part of you,” he murmurs in a voice laced with appreciation.

You feel the walls of your pussy contract in response to his words of praise, a cascading sensation that culminates in a soft moan, his name escaping your lips like a whispered melody. 

He caresses your tits, their softness, fullness, and weight filling his palms with a tangible desire. As his hands explore, he discovers your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers in a delicate dance of pleasure.

“Yoongi!” A high-pitched moan escapes your lips, the fervent cry echoing in the charged atmosphere as you throw your head back, surrendering to the pleasure of sinking down on him once more. 

He luxuriates in the splendor of your beauty, every facet of your amazing body a source of enchantment. Everything about you accelerates the rhythm of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach multiplying with each passing moment. 

He gives a gentle tug on your nipple, sending a surge of sensations through your body like an electric current, a simultaneous feeling of warmth and chill enveloping you in a paradoxical embrace.

You sense a delightful tingling sensation rippling across your entire body, a prelude to an impending climax that hovers tantalizingly on the edge.

“Shit, Yoongi, I think I'm gonna come,” you moan, the admission carrying the weight of impending ecstasy.

He grunts in response, the primal sound echoing the urgency of his own impending release. “I'm close too.”

You start to sense a delightful tightness in your breasts, with Yoongi skillfully alternating between rolling your nipples, tugging, and pinching them. The exquisite play on your sensitive peaks sends shivers down your spine. Simultaneously, you become acutely aware of the wetness between your thighs, a slippery testament to the overwhelming arousal that courses through your body.

The sound of skin on skin slapping resonates through the air, a visceral percussion that punctuates the charged atmosphere. The noise sends a jolt through your body, causing your muscles to tense in response.

The tingling and prickling sensation in your breasts intensifies, creating a crescendo of arousal that surges through your body. Then, in a sudden release, you feel the pressure in them subside, a wave of pleasure ebbing away like a tide.

Yoongi watches in awe as a gush of milk shoots out of your tits, creating a mesmerizing display that soon turns into a sensuous drip. His finger skillfully rolls your nipples, the fluid covering them and your tits in a glistening sheen of your breastmilk. Fuck it’s hot. He feels his dick twitch again, as he keeps looking at your tits.

You sense a wetness on your breasts and instinctively glance down, only to be met with a wave of horror as you realize you've begun lactating. In an instant, you cover your bobs, a mix of shock and embarrassment washing over you. The sudden shift in your body leaves you feeling vulnerable and a bit grossed out.

“I'm so sorry,” you begin, breathless words escaping your lips as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick. 

“You don't have to be sorry, babe. It's natural and sexy,” he reassures you with a loving smile, a genuine attempt to dispel any insecurity. His eyes, filled with both warmth and desire, convey a message beyond words—that he not only doesn't mind but finds the situation undeniably hot. 

“Please let me touch them,” he pleads with a rare vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor. 

You take a moment to contemplate, acknowledging that while you might not find it as inherently sexy as he does, the arousal sparked by his desire for you is undeniably enticing. Embracing the vulnerability, you lean in and press your tits closer to his face, your tummy meeting his, as you concede with a whispered “okay.” 

You release your breasts from your grasp, and like a magnet seeking its counterpart, his hands find them once more. With deliberate tenderness, he begins to massage your tts, each slow and deliberate stroke creating ripples of pleasure that resonate through your body. 

As you move up and down on his length, the kaleidoscope of emotions—love, lust, and adoration—mirrored in Yoongi's eyes sends a shiver down your spine. In that charged moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you feel like you could die a happy woman. 

His fingers resume their dance, skillfully rolling your nipples and coating them with the warm fluid of your breast milk.

With a newfound determination, you pick up the pace, fervently chasing the brink of your orgasm. Yoongi, fully immersed in the moment, continues to fondle your tits with an affectionate touch.

“Ah! Yoongi, it's so good!” you moan with a symphony of pleasure as you lower yourself onto him, and in response, he tugs a little harder on your nipples.

“Fuck,” you pant, breathless, the sensation of being so thoroughly filled with desire and pleasure overwhelming your senses.

As your stomach tightens, the internal coil finally springs free, and you unleash your slick juices on his dick. A surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering your vision blurry, a temporary blindness overcome by the intensity of pleasure. A strange ringing noise fills your ears, and your body collapses against Yoongi's in a state of blissful surrender.

With remarkable speed, he intercepts your naked form before it collides with him, his strong and firm hands seizing your hips to anchor you on top of him. 

You man fervently, the echoes of your climax still reverberating through your body. In the throes of your descent from ecstasy, a desperate plea escapes your lips, “Yoongi, please fcuk me.”

With a firm grip on your hips, he squeezes them again, initiating a rapid and relentless pace of thrusting into you. The urgency in his movements mirrors the crescendo of desire building within him as he fervently chases his own impending orgasm. 

Fuck, it was hot to witness you unravel in such ecstasy. The lingering sensation of your walls pulsating around his dick lingers, as if you're tightly embracing him, and he revels in it. Being inside you, outside you, every facet of connection with you fuels a deep and insatiable love within him. 

“Fuck, babe – you’re so tight!” he moans in pure delight. As you sit up, a newfound intensity in your movements, your hands find your tits, skillfully rolling your nipples, and a rivulet of breast milk drips out. Fuck. That will be his undoing.

“Ah, babe—,” he moans your name with a drawn-out, languid tone, his eyes unable to tear away from the sinful allure of your face and the captivating sight of your incredible tits. 

Inexplicably, your walls continue to throb around him, coaxing an unbridled release from him. A guttural moan of your name escapes his lips, a primal declaration of the intensity of the moment, synchronized with the eruption of his warm seed, cascading into the depths of your pulsating pussy. 

“Fuck!” he pants, his thrusts persisting a few times before he deftly lifts you, positioning you higher on his stomach. In the aftermath of shared ecstasy, both of you lost in the haze of pleasure, the residue of your combined orgasms coats and binds you together, a slick and intimate testament to the intensity of lust.

“Ah…” you moan, a sultry melody escaping your lips as you descend into Yoongi's embrace. Despite the undertones of desire that lace your voice, he can't help but wonder what might be amiss as he sees pain etched in your face.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, his gaze locking onto your lustful eyes as he seeks to unravel the secrets veiled behind their desire-laden depths.

“I think I’m still orgasming,” you pant, rising once more, “it’s like my body won’t stop.” A shared gaze lingers between you, uncertainty flickering in both your eyes as the lingering waves of pleasure blur the lines between ecstasy and the unknown.

“Is it good or bad though?” he probes, a furrow forming on his brow as he attempts to unravel the mystery. “It’s not bad, but my tummy feels so tight,” your hand guides his to the firmness, and indeed, it does feel tight.

“Hmmm…” he contemplates the peculiar situation, his curiosity piqued but not overly concerned. “I’ll grab some towels and clean us up. Let’s wait a moment to see if it subsides, alright?”

You nod at him, then gracefully ease down from his lap, sprawling on your side, the remnants of passion and desire lingering in the air as you continue to pant for the sweet breath of satisfaction.

Yoongi gracefully rises from the bed, navigating the darkness of the night with an innate sense of purpose. He effortlessly locates your bathroom, skillfully secures a handful of towels, and returns to your bedroom with a quiet assurance, the dim shadows highlighting his silhouette as he prepares to tend to your shared aftermath.

“Here—, I–” With a sudden urgency, he tosses the towels aside as his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your figure is curled in on itself, hands instinctively cradling your stomach, every muscle in your body taut and tense.

“Yoongi, I think I’m in labor,” you declare, the gravity of the moment reflected not just in your words but also in the silent agony etched across your face, a shared understanding mirrored in the intensity of his gaze.

And then it hits him like a tidal wave; the tightness in your tummy was contractions. A surge of realization floods over him—shit, it’s happening. You're having your baby. In the whirlwind of emotions, he battles to remain calm, to steady himself for the pivotal moments ahead.

“Okay. Let's time the contractions and then call the hospital, okay?” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice, frantically searching for his phone on the nightstand.

“Let me know the moment you sense the beginning of a contraction,” he instructs, poised to start the timer.

“Right now,” you gasp, clutching your stomach tightly. The sensation grips you, an intense pressure, especially at the apex, and then, moments later, it releases. “It’s gone now.”

“Almost a minute,” he observes, his tone laden with the realization that you're edging closer to the throes of labor.

“Describe them to me. Are they intense? The pain worries me, seeing you in discomfort tears me apart,” he inquires, genuine concern etched across his face as he tries to understand what you're going through.

“Just a hint of pain, nothing unbearable. I can handle it,” you reassure with a soft chuckle, a resilient spirit shining through despite the discomfort, and he finds solace in your strength.

“Let's keep an eye on the contractions for about an hour, and then we'll give the hospital a call,” he suggests, retrieving the towels scattered on the floor earlier with a sense of urgency.

“While we wait, let me take care of you,” he proposes, coming closer with a towel. Gently lifting one of your legs, he begins to clean you, erasing the traces of our orgasms.

Your body quivers in response to his tender touch, eliciting delicate moans that dance in the air.

“Fuck. I don’t know why, but it’s turning me on, Yoon.” You moan softly, unable to explain the unexpected arousal, but your body instinctively grinds against the towel, turning a simple act into a sensual dance of lust.

A playful chuckle escapes him as he tends to your aftermath, skillfully cleaning you up. Satisfied with the tender care he has given you, he proceeds to clean himself up. Together, you reclaim your clothing, sitting down in your bed anxiously waiting for your contractions to pick up. 

As the cadence of contractions quickens, Yoongi takes decisive action, reaching out to the hospital to announce the fact that you’re in labor. With a voice poised between urgency and excitement, he navigates the conversation, detailing the progression of your contractions over the past hour. He wants to know how you should proceed.

As anticipation swirls in the air like a palpable force, Yoongi's voice resonates with a newfound sense of joy. “They've given us the green light to drive to the hospital,” he announces, his eyes reflecting the shared excitement. As you both perch on the edge of the bed, he turns to you with a practical inquiry, “Where did you stash your hospital bag?”

Your gesture guides him to the dresser, and with a graceful sweep, Yoongi retrieves your carefully prepared hospital bag. His voice, a comforting melody, invites you to join him, “Come, we can go now.”

Guiding you with a gentle hand, Yoongi accompanies you to the entryway of your home, a silent pact of shared determination. The darkness outside, coupled with the December chill, calls for the practicality of boots and a warm coat.

Assertively reaching for Yoongi's car keys, you declare, “I can drive.” The shift in Yoongi's expression is so abrupt, it's as if you've caught a fleeting glimpse of a storm cloud on a clear day, the sour twist on his face a testament to the unexpectedness of your statement.

His voice takes on a stern edge, swiftly denying your attempt to take the wheel. Yoongi snatches the keys from your grasp, his firm tone leaving no room for negotiation. “It’s not safe for you to drive in the midst of contractions,” he insists, a protective glint in his eyes amplifying the weight of his concern.

“But it’s not that bad,” you argue, why, you don’t really know.

“Look, babe. I know you can do everything by yourself, you’re strong, and I love you for it. But you’re not driving the car,” he says with a tone that brooks no argument, a gentle firmness underlining his love and concern for your well-being.

As you both prepare and the keys find their place in Yoongi's firm grip, you swing the door wide open, only to be greeted by a blanket of white—the snow-draped landscape stretching across the grass, road, and your car. To top it off, gentle snowflakes dance down from the heavens. Fuck.

“Ugh, it’s going to take forever driving into the city in this weather,” you grumble, trudging your way towards the car through the dense, snow-laden path. The flakes fall thick and heavy, making it difficult to see ahead.

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, popping the trunk to stow away your bag. With meticulous care, he ensures you've got everything essential for the journey. Satisfied, you both slide into the car, ready to face the challenges the snowy night has in store.

“It's going to be alright, babe,” he reassures you, his hand gently covering yours before tenderly moving to your belly. “Can't wait to finally meet you.” 

Yoongi is accustomed to navigating challenging weather conditions on the road, his driving skills unaffected by the snow. However, the incompetence of other drivers in snowy conditions infuriates him. Inside the cocoon of your car, he vents his frustration, unleashing a symphony of curses directed at everyone causing chaos on the wintry roads.

“Ease up on the road rage, Yoongi. I don't want our little one picking up a vocabulary lesson in expletives before they even arrive,” you chime in, settling deeper into the seat, your concern for the baby evident in your voice.

“Babe, seriously, who ventures out on the road without a clue about driving in the snow? And it's the crack of dawn—why is everyone suddenly on a snow-day adventure?” Yoongi grumbles in exasperation, his frustration bringing a smile to your face despite the situation.

“Have you forgotten it’s Christmas time?” you quip, chuckling as he gapes at you, realization dawning on him. Damn, he had indeed forgotten.

“We haven’t even reached the city yet and there’s already so many cars,” he complains some more, and you let him. His voice, a melody that always soothes, even in the midst of chaotic Christmas traffic.

“They’re going home to their families—, watch out!” you point at the car in front of you, its headlights blazing like a comet in the snowy morning, almost blinding in their intensity.

Yoongi's keen eyes caught sight of the car in the opposite lane, and it became painfully evident that the driver couldn't navigate the snowy roads to save their life. Inexplicably, this inept driver seemed to believe they owned the road, arrogantly straddling both lanes. Distinguishing one lane from another was challenging in the snowy chaos, but it wasn't rocket science either.

Yoongi skillfully swerves the car to the side, narrowly avoiding a collision with the vehicle in front. The abrupt move sends a rumble through the car as it navigates the bumpy terrain, plowing through a massive mound of snow hastily shoved to the side.

The car grinds to a halt, Yoongi unleashing a string of colorful curses directed at the absent driver. Now, you find yourselves stranded in the unforgiving grip of the snow.

His concerned gaze shifts to you, seeking reassurance. “Are you okay, babe?” he asks, and although you appear unharmed, your response carries the weight of the unexpected. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit shaken.”

As he hums a soothing melody, his attempts to reassure you echo in the confined space, yet beneath the surface, he senses the gradual erosion of his own calm demeanor.

“That fucking jerk,” his frustration intensifies as he hisses about the reckless driver, but you, amidst the escalating contractions, offer soothing reassurance, masking the growing urgency within the car.

“I'll assess the damage outside, okay?” he proposes, seeking your consent. You nod, delving into your bag for a snack, a sudden wave of hunger overtaking you amid the unfolding situation.

Yoongi steps out into the freezing cold, the car's engine humming in the background. He surveys the vehicle, searching for any visible damage, but to his relief, nothing appears broken or in need of immediate repair.

The towering mound of snow engulfs the car, rendering the hood invisible. Yoongi, realizing the severity of the situation, understands that extricating the vehicle from this icy trap is no easy feat. The sheer depth of the snow suggests a challenging predicament, one that requires assistance. Knowing you're in no condition to lend a hand, he contemplates the help he'll need to navigate the car out of this wintry predicament.

He reenters the car, discovering you engrossed in a candy bar, and a hearty chuckle escapes his lips.

Between bites, you inquire, “I was hungry. How's the car?”

“It's stuck pretty bad in the snow pile. Can't get it out myself,” he begins, but you interrupt with a smile, “I can help you with that.”

“Have you forgotten that you're in labor?” he laughs, his voice raspy from the cold outside. “And you're not going out to shovel snow. We don't even have shovels,” he adds, sharing a hearty laugh with you.

“I thought you had all kinds of things in the car,” you chuckle, finishing your candy bar with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, but not shovels,” his laughter resonates in the car, a contagious sound that brings a smile to your face.

“What are we gonna do then, just wait?” you inquire, a hint of worry coloring your voice as the realization dawns that you might not make it to the hospital in time.

“I’ll call Jimin and ask him to come help,” he declares, urgency in his tone as he swiftly pulls out his phone, dialing Jimin’s number with determination.

Even in the early morning hush, Jimin's phone vibrates, and he glances at the caller ID to find Yoongi's name flashing. It's an unusual call at this hour, sparking an immediate concern that propels him to answer without hesitation.

“Hey, Yoongi hyung, something wrong?” His voice, tinged with worry and genuine concern, breaks the silence of the room as he answers the call. He rises from the bed, instantly alert to the unusual urgency in Yoongi's early morning summons. 

“We had a car accident,” Yoongi's words hang heavy in the air, shattering the tranquility of the room. Jimin's reaction is immediate, a storm of worry and disbelief brewing within him. He erupts from the bed, shouting into the phone, “What??” The sheer concern in his voice mirrors the gravity of the situation.

Yoongi's reassurance echoes through the phone, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “It's minor, relax,” he utters, and the calmness in his voice acts as a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of panic.

“A guy forced us off the road, and we ended up plowing into a massive snowbank. Now, the damn car's wedged in tight,” Yoongi recounts, frustration coloring his words. Jimin, attentive, absorbs the details. “Think you can come lend a hand? Bring some shovels. I'll shoot you our coordinates,” Yoongi requests, the urgency evident in his tone.

Jimin readily agrees to help, his concern palpable through the phone. However, he can't shake the worry as he inquires, “Are you guys okay? And ___? How's the baby?”

“Yeah, we're all fine,” Yoongi reassures, his voice a bit raspy. Jimin strains to catch some muffled sounds on the other end, unable to discern the details.

He glances at the dropped location on his phone, “I can be there in about 30 minutes,” he assures Yoongi, swiftly rising from his bed to grab some warm clothes.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

As the promised 30 minutes Jimin assured you passed an hour ago, he couldn't help but wonder if you were growing impatient with the prolonged wait.

Jimin spots your car on the roadside, its hazard lights casting an eerie glow, and he expertly maneuvers his own vehicle to a stop right behind yours.

He steps out, ready to retrieve tools from the trunk, but his attention is abruptly stolen by piercing screams emanating from your car. His muscles tense, and without a second thought, he dashes towards the source of the cries.

Why are you screaming? What's going on, and why are the windows so foggy?

With an overpowering urgency, he wrenches open the left door to the backseats, sending it flinging wide, the metallic screech echoing the urgency pulsing through his veins.

He hadn't anticipated the shocking scene that unfolded before him; there you were, legs pressed against the headrest on both the front and back seats, completely exposed from the waist down. He can clearly see your vagina. Fuck, your vagina is big—wait, something is coming out of it!

Yoongi catches Jimin unabashedly staring at your vagina, prompting an eye roll from him. What's with Jimin? Having already witnessed your tits and now your vagina, it annoys Yoongi to no end. He's possessive; the idea of others seeing you in such a vulnerable state doesn't sit well with him. Sharing is not his forte.

He hisses sharply, capturing Jimin's attention, all while the symphony of your agonized screams continues to pierce the air.

“Stop looking at her vagina, man! You’ve seen enough of her, Jimin,” Yoongi snaps, frustration dripping from his words as your writhing form remains nestled against his supporting frame.

Jimin's eyes widen in disbelief, his mouth agape at the unexpected scene. He quickly redirects his gaze to Yoongi, his expression a mix of shock and apology as he stammers, “I—I didn't mean to, Yoongi, I'm so sorry!”

You clutch your thighs tightly, a guttural scream escaping your lips as the contraction envelops you. Once it recedes, you direct an exasperated shout at Jimin, “Close the damn door! You’re letting all the cold air in.”

Jimin snaps out of his daze, berating himself for standing there like a fool. Swiftly, he slips into the driver's seat, positioning himself to face the backseats with a determined look on his face.

“How long has she been in labor?” Jimin queries Yoongi, who glances up from your panting form for a moment before responding, “A few hours, actually.”

“You could have mentioned that when you called!” Jimin hisses in frustration. Not that the information would have made a big difference, given that the snow was the primary cause of his tardiness.

“But that’s a long time. I can see the head coming out,” he informs, prompting both you and Yoongi to exchange amused eye rolls.

“Yeah, she's crowning,” Yoongi adds with a soft stroke to your cheeks, his touch a comforting anchor as you brace yourself for another contraction.

“What can I do to help? I don't think we can get the car ready in time to make it to the hospital,” Jimin inquires, his gaze shifting between you and Yoongi with a mix of concern and determination.

“I already realized I’m having this baby in the backseat of a fucking car. Serves me right — getting fucked in a car, giving birth in a car. I’ve come full circle!” you laugh hysterically between contractions, the situation not lost on you. Jimin shifts uncomfortably in the driver's seat, but Yoongi remains a steady rock, his presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

As Yoongi directs his attention to Jimin, he suggests, “Maybe you could call the hospital and check if they can send an ambulance our way, just in case. I haven't had a moment to make that call yet.” His fingers trace soothing circles on your thighs, a stark contrast to the urgency of your sudden need to push.

Jimin's face reflects genuine concern as he admits he's never witnessed someone in labor before, only having gleaned insights from movies. However, a memory surfaces—advice from Seokjin after his girlfriend gave birth. “You can try changing positions, something where gravity can aid the baby's descent,” he shares, a eureka moment breaking through the tension.

Following Jimin's suggestion, you and Yoongi exchange a glance filled with gratitude and amazement. Acting on the advice, you shift positions, moving to sit over the seats with your upper body draped across them, your face turned towards the back. The atmosphere is tense, yet the three of you share a determined resolve in the face of the unexpected delivery.

With Yoongi's steady support, you manage to assume a half-standing, half-seated position, your body poised for the imminent arrival of your baby. Meanwhile, the car fills with the sound of Jimin's urgent voice as he communicates with the hospital over the phone.

“They are sending an ambulance now,” he informs.

Gratitude colors Yoongi's urgent request, a plea wrapped in the intensity of the moment. “Thank you, Jimin. Could you come back here and lend a hand?” he implores, a mix of worry and determination in his voice, as you cling to the rhythm of your breaths, navigating the storm of contractions.

He teases with a nonchalant shrug, “I thought you didn't want me looking.” Yet, it's clear he's here to assist you; after all, you're his ride or die, and in this crucial moment, his quip holds a trace of underlying devotion and readiness to stand by your side.

In a playful retort, he asserts, “Bold of you to assume I wanted you to look at her vagina again. There are other ways to assist, you know. I'll keep vagina watch—she's my wife,” emphasizing the relationship he shares with you, as Jimin exits the car to join you in the backseat.

Your tired yet grateful gaze meets Jimin's as you acknowledge, “You were right, Jimin. This position is a game-changer. The pressure has eased up a bit.” Despite the sweat-soaked exhaustion etched on your face, a soft smile conveys your appreciation.

For a second, Jimin doesn’t know what to do – can he touch you? Where? How can he help?

“Fuck it hurts!” Agony courses through you, each breath a struggle as you arch your back, a desperate attempt to wrestle against the relentless ache.

As the waves of pain intensify, he instinctively rests his hand on the small of your back, gently tracing soothing circles. To his relief, he witnesses the tension in your body slowly surrender to the rhythmic comfort of his touch.

Summoning all his composure, Yoongi bravely steals a glance downward, discovering a tuft of hair signaling the imminent arrival. Damn. He knows he must remain composed, steady—for you.

“How did you go into labor anyway? How did the water break, was it like in the movies?” Jimin launches into a barrage of questions, his curiosity pouring out like an unbridled stream. You shoot a glare his way, practically hurling invisible daggers in his direction at the audacity of his inquiries.

His hands continue their soothing circles on your lower back as he asks, “What?” Yoongi resurfaces, his expression a blank canvas.

And suddenly, realization flashes across Jimin's face. “You totally fucked! And then she went into labor!” he exclaims, a mix of shock and amusement in his voice.

You hiss in pain, your fingers clenching the seat with a vice-like grip, the intensity of the moment etched in the white-knuckle grasp of your hands.

Both your expressions affirm Jimin's earlier assumption, a silent confirmation that lingers in the charged air of the confined space.

“Shit, I can’t do this,” you gasp, exhaustion etched across your face, your body seemingly on the brink of surrender.

“You're almost there, babe. It's safe to keep pushing,” Yoongi reassures you with a tender kiss on your cheek, but you push him away, a fiery glare in your gaze.

“This is all your fault. You and your damn big dick!” you scream at him, and he understands, recognizing it as your pain talking and not the real you. Jimin chuckles from beside you, and you turn to give him a death glare, saying, “Don’t act so innocent, Mr. ‘I think Yoongi likes you.’”

“But I was right. And now you're about to have his baby. It's going to be okay,” Jimin reassures you, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“Just relax,” Jimin adds.

“Easy for you to say; a baby isn't shooting out of your body,” you huff, the intensity of your anger subsiding.

“I know it hurts, babe. But focus on your breathing, and when you're ready, push with all you've got,” Yoongi encourages, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

The kiss sends electric shivers down your spine, and strangely, it acts as a calming balm, making the pain feel somewhat more bearable.

When he pulls away, he notices the lingering frown on your face, and a sense of curiosity washes over him. “It was nice, Yoongi. I think it helps alleviate the pain,” you admit, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and appreciation.

“Kiss me again,” you pant, your desperation echoing in the quiet space of the car. Yoongi obliges, capturing your lips with a hunger that elicits a moan from deep within you. In that stolen moment, the world fades away, forgotten in the intoxicating blend of passion and the rhythmic circles Jimin traces on your back.

“Don’t mind me. But I think the baby is coming, I can see more of its head just from here,” he informs, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and amusement. Yoongi's gaze follows Jimin's, confirming the imminent arrival. 

He positions his hands underneath your core, preparing to catch your baby as soon as it emerges. Yet, your screams of pain prompt a plea, “Please distract me with kisses,” you cry out, your hands clenching around the seats in a desperate search for relief. 

Yoongi glances up at you, your pain evident, and the desperate desire for relief palpable in your eyes. However, he's torn between wanting to provide comfort and being there to catch and deliver your baby. A moment of realization dawns upon him – he can't be in two places at once, something Jimin seems to realize too.

Yoongi gazes at Jimin, a silent plea for guidance evident in his eyes, but Jimin, with a mischievous grin, utters, “You've got two choices, hyung – catch the baby or let me kiss your wife. What's it gonna be?”

Yoongi gapes at him, astounded by the audacity Jimin displays in even suggesting such a choice. He's acutely aware of his own possessiveness, and Jimin knows how much he fucking wants to deliver his own child. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

With a sense of urgency, you turn your head and implore, “Do something! I don't care who kisses me, just someone, please!” Your plea echoes with a mixture of sternness and desperation, the pain coursing through your entire body amplifying the need for any distraction.

Yoongi moves with unwavering determination, ascending once more. “Fine. Deliver the baby. You're going to be the godfather anyway,” he grumbles to Jimin, reaching your head and pressing his lips plush against yours. Instantly, you relax, a moan escaping in the midst of the chaos.

“I am?” Jimin questions, uncertainty lacing his voice. Yet, he positions his hands beneath your vagina, mirroring Yoongi's earlier gesture.

You eagerly press your lips to Yoongi's, seeking out his tongue in a passionate exchange, panting and moaning in response to the surge of arousal coursing through you. Amid the heated kiss, you offer affirmative murmurs to Jimin, your desires spoken through the intensity of the embrace with Yoongi.

“It's working, the baby is coming out,” Jimin exclaims with a mix of excitement and focus, his hands securing the baby's head with delicate precision to ensure a safe descent into the world.

Yoongi abandons your mouth, tracing a fiery path down to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of searing kisses and tantalizing bites. Your response is an involuntary groan, a symphony of pleasure escaping your lips, as you gasp out, “Fuuuck, Yoongi.”

“The head is completely out now!” Jimin’s voice breaks through the intense moment and in response, you instinctively grab Yoongi’s head, pulling him back up into a passionate kiss.

As your lips entwine in an ardently sensual dance, the symphony of pleasure resonates, eliciting increasingly fervent moans from you.

Breaking away, you gasp, “Fuck. Why does it feel like I’m coming?” Your breath comes in pants, and you sense a relieving tightness escaping your body.

Jimin swiftly takes charge, catching the remainder of your baby as it emerges, and Yoongi lends his support, ensuring Jimin's hands remain steady in the crucial moment.

The infant rests gently between your thighs in the hands of both Yoongi and Jimin, and as you gasp for air, you steal a glance downward. There, your precious baby lies, serene and silent. A moment of quietude settles in, and a disquieting realization begins to dawn upon you—silence, in this context, isn't the reassuring sound you anticipated.

Dread courses through you as you breathe heavily, realizing the absence of that expected newborn cry. Without hesitation, you extend your trembling arms, pulling your baby up against your chest in a desperate embrace.

An air of tension hangs heavy, mirrored in the anxious expressions on Jimin and Yoongi's faces, both men holding their breath, awaiting the sound that should signify life's beginning.

In an instinctual surge of emotion, you tear your shirt to shreds with one hand, cradling your newborn against your bare chest. Shock registers on both Jimin and Yoongi's faces as they witness this raw display of maternal instinct, captivated by the power and determination radiating from you.

As you gently rub the baby's back, waves of sadness wash over you, and tears stream down your face. In a choked voice, you express your fear, “This is why I should have delivered in the hospital. What if something happened to the baby and it's...gone?” The last part of the sentence catches in your throat, too emotional to articulate fully.

In the confined space of the car, you twist around, pressing your back against the seat as tears cascade down your cheeks. The anguish in your body is palpable, each sob causing a tremor that echoes the pain you're enduring.

In an instant, a second cry intertwines with yours, and you lower your gaze to behold your baby, tiny and fragile, yet alive. A surge of relief floods through every fiber of your being, mirrored in the eyes of the two men who exchange a profound, knowing glance.

Clutching your newborn close, you haven't even taken a moment to check the gender, but in this raw and tender moment, it hardly matters. All that echoes through your soul is the reassurance that everything is alright.

Overflowing with gratitude, your voice carries a symphony of love as your eyes dance between your husband and Jimin. “Thank you, both of you” you whisper, your heart swelling with the depth of the moment.

Yoongi whispers, his voice a tender melody, “You did incredible, babe,” as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your cheek, his words echoing with admiration for your strength and resilience.

“No problem at all. You were amazing, ___,” Jimin commends, leaning back into the seat beside you, his hands stained with blood, that he wipes off on his pants.

“Jimin, could you check the trunk for some thermal blankets?” Yoongi requests, his gaze tenderly fixed on your baby, who has quieted down and now rests peacefully against your boobs—what he believes to be the most comforting place.

Jimin returns with a bundle of blankets, and Yoongi, with a sense of urgency, joins him in carefully wrapping you and the baby. The blankets cocoon you both, shielding you from the biting cold as you patiently await the arrival of the ambulance.

“Should we find anything to cut the cord with?” In a sudden burst of practicality, Jimin scans the car, his eyes searching for anything suitable to cut the cord.

“No, no. I've read that the baby can stay attached for hours and even days. So I'm fine waiting to do it in the hospital,” you say, your voice carrying a mixture of fatigue and overwhelming love. Your eyes remain fixed on your baby, and you don't glance at Jimin as you express your decision.

Then, a sensation grips your attention, warmth and thickness enveloping you between your legs. As you cast your gaze downward, the revelation dawns upon you – it's the placenta.

“You guys might need a new car,” Jimin breaks into laughter and Yoongi looks at him perplexed, before he scans the state of the car; it’s filled with blood, anatomic fluid and God knows what else. He reckons you’ll have to burn it, if it can’t be cleaned.

Half an hour post-delivery, the ambulance team arrives like guardian angels, swooping in to cradle you in their capable hands as they whisk you away to the sanctuary of the hospital.

Jimin swiftly summons roadside assistance, ensuring a caretaker for your stranded car, while he maneuvers his own vehicle through the snowy streets to the hospital.

Nestled in the hospital room, you're navigating the nuances of new motherhood. The compassionate nurses guide you through the art of breastfeeding, and you're determined to master this intimate dance with your newborn.

Beside you, Yoongi shares in the enchantment, both of you reveling in the miracle of your beautiful baby girl, awestruck at the realization that you've crafted this extraordinary little being together.

Gazing into his eyes, a kaleidoscope of love, affection, and adoration, he whispers, “I love you, babe,” before tenderly leaning in for a heartfelt kiss.

“I love you too, Yoongi.”

Jimin sweeps into the room, a harbinger of warmth and color, bearing a bouquet of your favorite purple flowers. Your heart flutters as you press a grateful kiss to his cheek, expressing your thanks.

Deep gratitude colors Yoongi's voice as he wraps Jimin in a tight embrace. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you for everything,” he murmurs, sincerity etched in his words. Jimin, with a warm smile, responds, “It's no problem. You're welcome.”

Clutching Jimin's hand, you squeeze it tightly, your eyes reflecting sincere appreciation. “No, thank you. I would never have made it without you,” you express, the gravity of your words resonating in the room.

You express your heartfelt appreciation, looking directly at Jimin as you speak. “You are my best, best friend, Jimin. I love you and thank you,” your words carrying the weight of genuine gratitude. Jimin meets your gaze with tenderness, carefully keeping his eyes on your face, mindful of not stepping on any toes with Yoongi, not that there's anything he should be worried about.

“She’s really cute—the baby, I mean,” Jimin throws his hands up in mock defense, unable to contain his admiration. His genuine enthusiasm shines through as he revels in the adorable sight of your newborn.

Yoongi begins with a playful smirk, “Relax, Jimin. You're allowed to call my wife cute and pretty, and occasionally sneak a glance at her assets if the situation calls for it; like a birth or a bra mishap—but nothing more.” He chuckles, wrapping up his words with a friendly hug, leaving Jimin with a mix of relief and amusement.

Jimin's laughter resonates in response, and just as the sound fills the room, the door swings open, ushering in the rest of your friends.

They flood the room with warm greetings, and your eyes quickly catch Jungkook, who enters with a whimsical unicorn plushie and a vibrant bouquet in shades of purple, pink, and blue.

“These are for you,” he beams, thrusting the bouquet towards Yoongi, who delicately places them on the table beside you.

“Congratulations,” the boys chime in unison, closing in to catch a glimpse of your precious little one.

You shift your baby in your arms, delicately adjusting your gown to reveal the other breast for feeding. With each nourishing moment, you sense post-contractions coursing through your body, a gentle reminder of your uterus gradually returning to its normal size.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon inadvertently direct their gaze toward your breasts, drawing Yoongi’s attention. However, Seokjin interjects sternly, “Enough, guys. Show some respect. Quit staring at her breasts while she's feeding. You've seen other breasts before; let's not be rude.”

Jimin lets out a chuckle from his position beside you on the bed, quietly noting that the others should consider themselves lucky that Yoongi didn't snap at them for sneaking glances at your breasts.

“Starting today, a strict no-gazing policy is in effect for anyone trying to sneak a peek at my wife's breasts or her vagina,” Yoongi declares, shooting a pointed yet appreciative smile in Jimin's direction.

Confusion flickers across the faces of all the guys as their gazes shift between Jimin, Yoongi, and then you, signaling that something intriguing might have unfolded.

As their jaws drop in surprise, you casually spill the details, “He played a crucial role in delivering the baby and got an unexpected front-row view of my vagina in the process.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, his gaze piercing through the room as he asserts, “Yes, that happened. Eyes off—especially you two,” he warns, shooting a stern look at Jungkook and Taehyung, who quickly avert their eyes.

Jungkook hesitantly clears his throat, his curiosity overcoming his apprehension, “___, what's that on your neck?”

A rosy hue tints your cheeks as you recall the passionate love bite that Yoongi left on your neck just before the chaotic journey into labor began, and you find yourself cursing your husband under your breath for the intimate moment that now decorates your skin.

What do you think??? Any kind of feedback is much appreciated ✨

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x y/n #bts x reader smut #bts fic #bts x you #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi #yoongi #myg x you #myg x reader #myg smut #myg #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #bts imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #friendcation series

[witchy-scribblings]

for good

shinazugawa sanemi x reader

synopsis ➳ his plan had been perfect: push everyone away to escape the responsibility of death when it inevitably happened. it had been perfectly crafted to protect himself and the people who surrounded him... the only problem with this plan is that you vehemently refused to stick to it.

warnings ➳ angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, mean sanemi, lots of swearing, lowercase

wordcount ➳ 3.5k

[crossposted on ao3]

requested by @generic-teez-127

“thank you for helping out with the shopping today.” sanemi’s voice called for your attention to stray from the dusty path extending ahead of you. the street was bustling with people, as it was to be expected at midday, but your friend’s voice reached you firm and clear. you smiled.

“it’s nothing. it’s the least i can do since i stay over so often,” you giggle. “i might as well just move into your house at this point.” 

you had known sanemi and his family for almost as long as you could remember, but it wasn’t until after his father’s recent death that your visits to the shinazugawa household began to increase in number. the eldest son would have been surprised if he didn’t already know you like he did after all those years of budding friendship in the streets. he was aware of the distant relationship you held with your parents as much as he knew that you loved his mom and little siblings like they were your own. 

“that could work…” he acquiesced, and you turned to stare at him, perplexed. “i mean, we could use as many available hands as we can get now that he …” he trailed off, huffing. “it’s going to be hard from now on. but everyone back home loves you, really. mom is always asking if you’re planning to stay for dinner to make more food, or overnight so she can take out an extra futon. genya hasn’t stopped talking about you since you stayed that time to help with his fever while mom and i were busy.” the fond smile on his face was impossible to miss.

“i… i was joking, nemi. i really wouldn’t want to impose-”

“i want to have you over more often.” he spoke, quietly. “i want you with us- me , for good.” those statements, along with the faint blush on his cheeks, were enough to dissipate any further reservations you may have had.

“okay,” you beamed at him, delighted by his own blinding smile. “i will stay with you. for good.”

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

the ubuyashiki estate was deadly quiet. at least, you couldn’t hear anything outside of the guest room, no rushing servants, nor chatter between the manor’s residents. it almost felt sacrilegious to break the silence by starting a conversation with genya, who was sitting right in front of you, just as silent and tense as you felt.

“we can just leave, genya. we don’t have to wait for master himejima here…”

today had been the day assigned for one of the semiannual pillar meetings, as well as the first one held since you became the rock pillar’s tsuguko. himejima had been kind enough to take you in as his successor while also offering to train genya, your childhood friend, despite his inability to perform a breathing style. you had known genya long enough to guess when anxiety was eating him alive; his stiff shoulders, unfocused gaze and pinched lips were more than obvious tells. he didn’t answer, but you knew he had heard you, so you took that as a sign to continue.

“are you sure you’re ready to see him?” you, personally, didn’t think he was. and, frankly, neither were you. genya finally looked up at you, and he appeared absolutely offended by your question.

“i am ready,” he protested, determined. “everything i’ve done up until now has been so i could face sanemi again. there’s no way i’m chickening out now.” and then, he wavered, and you knew he wouldn’t have shared his next words with anyone who wasn’t you: “but i admit… i’m scared. i called him some really messed up shit that day.”

you hated that he kept blaming himself for that.

“you didn’t know,” you reminded him, gently. “you couldn’t have known, genya.” but he remained quiet, and you were left with a sour and tight feeling in the back of your mouth; you knew he would never stop beating himself up for the way he accused his brother of such a heinous crime, all those years back.

shinazugawa sanemi certainly hadn’t deserved being called a murderer, but it wasn’t genya’s fault that grief and ignorance had clouded his judgment. you wished he’d understand.

“...what if he doesn’t forgive me?” he spoke after another extended period of heavy silence. this time, words failed you. the sanemi you knew would have never held it against his beloved brother, but neither would he have run away without a word, leaving you to pick up the broken pieces that remained of his one living brother and yourself.

you weren’t sure you knew sanemi anymore. you couldn’t assure genya that the man he was about to face again, for the first time in years, was still the brother he once looked up to.

“if he doesn’t forgive you…” you take a deep breath, reaching out for genya’s hands, petting them gently until he released their harsh grip on the legs of his pants, “...i’ll still be right by you, genya.” you offer what you hope comes across as a comforting smile. “we’re together in this.”

you’re relieved when genya finally cracks a smile. it’s small and uncertain, but a smile nonetheless.

“we’re together in this.”

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

all things considered, it was a beautiful day despite the cloud of dread looming close by wherever you went. the sky was blue and the air, crisp. ubuyashiki’s garden was stunning as it was impressive, and you wondered if you would one day have seen it enough to take its beauty for granted.

the meeting had come and gone without a hitch, and you now found yourself next to genya, waiting for the rock pillar to appear and whisk you back to your training duties. deep down, you wished you wouldn’t see sanemi before being forced to left; perhaps it’d be for the best to simply walk different paths, but you knew that your roads were headed in the same direction, that confrontation would eventually be inevitable.

so inevitable that it was immediate.

the wind pillar had been the first one to excuse himself with the adjournment of the meeting, or so you assumed, because so far he was the only one on his way to leave the impressive building, walking in a confident stride towards the entrance of the estate; a confident stride that faltered to a gradual stop the moment you came into view, with genya standing stiffly by your side.

you could see the younger brother open his mouth to speak from the corner of your eye, but speech failed him and no one said a word for what felt like minutes, but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

“is this some kind of twisted joke?” breathed sanemi, eyes wide and crazed, while he kicked himself into action and closed the distance in a scarily small amount of steps. you noticed how he seemed unable to decide who to focus all of simmering wrath on, until his eyes descended on you. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? why are you wearing that? ”

unlike genya, who wasn’t yet deemed ready to partake in final selection, you were already an official demon slayer, a tsuchinoto and a tsuguko, and as such you were donning the slayer uniform you had been provided.

“we’re demon slayers, sanemi.” you didn’t let your voice waver, no matter how much the stranger in front of you radiated intimidation through each of his pores. staring firmly into his eyes, you were unable to miss the irritated twitch of an eyelid. “just like you.”

“bullshit,” he spat, and you fought the urge to flinch. the man who was currently breaking into your bubble of personal space may have looked like your sanemi, but those lilac eyes you had always found yourself lost into didn’t hold an ounce of that familiar fondness. not anymore. “weaklings like you, demon slayers? don’t make me fucking laugh.”

“it’s true!” genya finally stepped forward and forced sanemi to get out of your face, if only so he could direct that murderous glare to who had once been his cherished little brother. “this was the only way… the only way we could be together again, like a family. sanemi, i’m so s-”

“i don’t want your fucking apology. i don’t even want to see your face,” he hissed, and genya did startle, because those words were filled with a venom you’d have never attributed to the eldest shinazugawa son. you felt yourself begin to bristle. “a worthless piece of shit like you has no business calling himself my brother. get the fuck out of the corps before i do something about it myself.”

your hand moved faster than your mind, but slower than sanemi’s battle-hardened reflexes, and he caught your wrist in a bruising grip before you could make ill-intentioned contact with his face. those feral eyes were once more nailing you in place, and you couldn’t have stopped the whimper that crept up your throat even if you had tried, not when you felt and heard a sickening crack coming from your hindered wrist.

“and what the fuck are you tryna pull? you think i won’t break your wrist, don’t you? that i won’t show you how weak and useless you are?” sanemi chose to ignore the small tears springing along your waterline.

“nemi… you’re hurting me, please-”

“oh, am i? good.” his lips curled into a sadistic grin that had terror pooling in your gut. who the hell was this man standing there, sneering down at you so cruelly with the face of your childhood best friend? “do you see now why you're not cut out for this? and don’t you fucking dare call me that again, do you hear me?”

“i believe that’s enough, shinazugawa.” the spell was broken and sanemi’s hand dropped your sore wrist like it had burned him. “i would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my students like that.”

you blinked back unshed tears to focus on himejima’s imposing presence standing next to genya, offering a kind and comforting palm on his slumped shoulder. the fear and anger that had festered in you started to simmer into anguish when you noticed how utterly defeated the teenager looked, downcast eyes fixated on the gravel where he stood.

then, you looked back at sanemi; you weren’t expecting to catch the briefest glimpse of bewilderment on his semblance before it morphed back into his carefully crafted indifference.

“your habit of picking up strays is starting to get on my nerves, himejima,” he countered, clicking his tongue and sending you a look full of finality. “heed my words and forget about becoming slayers. i’d better not see you again.”

and one more time, sanemi left without looking back.

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

it wasn’t hard to learn the whereabouts of the shinazugawa residence; it’s not like it was a hidden location like the headquarters or the swordsmith village, so asking around easily set you in the right direction that one moon bathed night.

genya hadn’t been the same since that day at the ubuyashiki estate, and even though neither had he been discouraged to carry on with his training, both you and your teacher knew that the brutal rejection had carved a bleeding hole in his psyche. himejima had warned the two of you to steer clear of the wind pillar, and you had decided it was best to obey.

one week was all it took for that resolution to slip, and against you master’s orders, you were off to reignite an unfinished conversation.

sanemi had yet to get the piece of your mind you’ve been brewing for years.

truthfully, it was a dangerous idea, because that child you used to love had become just that: dangerous and unpredictable, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to head back. not with how he had treated genya and you like neither had ever meant a thing to him. and so, you sneaked into the training yard with as much stealth as you could muster, hoping that your skills and the element of surprise would be enough to avoid a confrontation against your favor. it was a solid enough plan, or so you had hoped, until you found yourself restrained - with a calloused hand around you neck and another on your arm - against the stone wall that surrounded the residence just because you had underestimated the prowess of a fucking pillar.

looking back, it really had been a plan so idiotic it deserved praise.

“what the fuck did i tell you, huh?” the night wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t make out his face; those purple eyes glowered down at you with a mercilessness that, coupled with the low snarl of his voice, almost made you regret having come back for more. you tried not to dwell on how his touch lacked the distinct warmth it had always spared you. “you weren’t always this fucking dumb.”

“and you weren’t always… this fucking awful.” it hurt to breathe and to try getting the words out, but you weren’t going to let him have the last word if you could help it. there was no reaction to be perceived, but you felt the grip on your neck loosen slightly, enough to allow you to speak but not to let you escape.

“what the hell are you doing here?” he pressed, and you felt more than saw him invade your space once more with how his warm breath started to fan over your heated face.

“we weren’t done. i wasn’t done-”

“like i give a shit what you have to say, just disappear from my fucking life.”

“you did that well enough for the three of us.” you knew you had struck a chord when sanemi growled your name lowly, a warning, but you continued, hardly caring what he did to you at this point. “you had no right to leave without a word and you had no right to say those foul things to genya.”

“he needs to be put in his place, and so do you.” if you weren’t so fucking pissed off maybe you’d have caught the hesitance barely peeking from behind his detached tone. but you were, so you didn’t.

“what the fuck is your problem, sanemi?” you shouted, raising your free hand, but the pillar removed his fingers from your neck to restrain both of your arms before you could strike him, pining you further against the scratchy stone. “there isn’t a day genya doesn’t regret what he called you that day, and when he tries to apologize-”

“i don’t care about his apology,” he huffed, coldly.

“he couldn’t have known! if only you had stayed-”

“it’s not about what he said, will you just fucking shut up-”

“i’m not going to shut up, for fuck’s sake! we are family, sanemi! what the fuck did we even do for you to push us away like this?” you tried to push through the burn in your eyes and the tightness in your throat because you really needed to understand, more than anything, where it had all gone so wrong. “just help me figure out why you won’t let us in. we still lo-!”

“don’t you fucking understand?! i don’t want you anywhere near me ever again!” that stunned you into silence, but sanemi still wouldn’t stop his mouth now that it had begun running. “what the fuck do i need to do to make you understand that you need to fuck right off and leave me alone?! we’re. not . family. anymore. get that through your dumb skull and move the fuck on!”

the night air blew cold against the dampness on your cheeks. sanemi’s hands were unmistakably trembling where they pined you, and in a moment of clarity you realized that it wasn’t anger that made them shake, at least not entirely. 

“sanemi… you’re just a fucking coward.”

“...say that again,” his whisper was dangerous and near crazed, but you accepted the challenge despite the goosebumps that licked over your clammy skin.

“you’re a coward, and i’m not leaving you alone. neither is genya. we’re together in this whether you like it or not, so drop this fucking attitude at once and let us in.”

only crickets filled the contemplative silence that ensued and, for a moment, you dared to feel hopeful that, somehow, you had managed to bring your sanemi back.

“why are you so hellbent on staying?” you found strength in how he sounded near defeated. as if you had expected his question, you released the words without an ounce of hesitation.

“because that’s the last thing you ever asked of me. to stay, for good. and, even now, you’re still asking me.”

“i’m not-”

“yes, you are,” you insisted, desperately trying to come to a breakthrough, “you’re trying so hard to put up a front that is not you, and don’t think for a second i’m going to believe that you just stopped caring about us because that’s not something that the nemi i know would ever do.” you were sure it was the nemi you knew who slowly let go of your arms, letting his hands fall limply by his sides.

“stop. fucking stop. i told you not to call me by that name. you don’t know anything about me-”

“-so teach me, then. i want to learn all about this new you, nemi.” tentatively, you reached out towards the silver outline of his face until your fingers made gentle contact with his cheek. the way he flinched made you sure that he was going to slap your hand away. and yet, he didn’t.

sanemi tried. he tried so hard to resist the warmth of your fingertips on the rough surface of the scar that split his face in halves, despite coming to the fast realization that he was fighting a losing battle. he didn’t protest in any way when you cupped his cheeks in your hands, succumbing to those searching eyes that had never stopped coming back to him in his dreams.

he hated how much prettier they were than what he remembered, now that they were seeing him at last.

“you won’t like the new me,” he warns, but there’s barely any trace of the bite he’s flaunted since since you saw him for the first time in years; it was surprising, to sat the least, to see the façade finally crumbling.

“the only you i don’t like is the sanemi who’s fighting tooth and nail to keep me out.” the tears were another, grander surprise when you felt them run into the hands cradling him so lovingly, and your thumbs worked fast to gather and wipe away the wetness.

“i’m begging you…” he tried, one last desperate effort to push you away before every wall he had spent so long building and strengthening came crashing down like a house of cards. “this is not the kind of life i want for you two. i’ve lost so much to those heartless fuckers already… you’re all i have left. i… i can’t-”

“then let’s fight together and protect each other to the best of our abilities, okay?” tentatively, you let yourself fall forward, burrowing into the warmth that he had tried so hard not to spare you, and sanemi let you; against his better judgment, he welcomed your trembling body against his, and he held you like he hadn’t held you in far too long. “you don’t have to be alone anymore, nemi. we’re here. i’m here.”

sanemi didn’t let himself hope, he didn’t think he was able to anymore. but he grasped your promise and ran with it, and he allowed himself to at least believe you.

“...this doesn’t fix everything,” you mutter into the open window of his chest, taking in the sweet smell that you had found there, “you’ve hurt genya very badly, sanemi.”

“i know,” he admitted it like the guilt had been eating at his mind for a long time. it probably had. “i know this isn’t an excuse, but everything i said and did was with your best interest in mind and-”

“-and you suck at guessing best interests because you didn’t even bother to ask us what we wanted.”

“for what it’s worth, i’m sorry i threatened you and pushed you away, and i’m sorry i nearly broke your wrist.” as if to emphasize his point, his large hand came to wrap itself around the offended joint, caressing with a gentleness that finally had his name on it. “i’ll… apologize to genya in the morning, i can promise you that but, for tonight… would you stay with me?”

it was a question, asked with such vulnerability, that brought you back years before, and the answer came to you as easy as breathing-

“i’ll stay, for good.”

-as easy as loving shinazugawa sanemi.

thank you to @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi and @sunandflame for the ideas and for convincing me not to make this hurt/no comfort :D

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #kny x reader #kny angst #kny fluff #kny fanfic #demon slayer x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #sanemi angst #sanemi fluff #shinazugawa sanemi x reader

[esamastation]

Part thirty-four of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three

-

Sephiroth feels a little better after an evening of meditation and a full night of sleep. Things look a little better in the light of day, and though the question of what the fuck he'd going to do about the war is still there, it has been put off. In favour of monster hunting!

"You seem… excited?" Angeal comments as they prepare to go.

He is! "Mn," Sephiroth answers, and carefully doesn't bounce with eagerness.

Even if the monsters of Final Fantasy can't hold a candle to the convoluted, messy and lazily put together nature of the monsters in PIDW, they're still interesting! Especially since he isn't sure what they actually are and how they work. Advent Children and Crisis Core really make it so unclear, because, like, everything turned into energy sparkles when it died? And he thinks in the movie one of the Sephiroth copies - weird to think about them now - summoned some monsters with magic? And then there was Zack in Crisis Core. Who turned into sparkles when he died!

Not everything can just disappear into energy, right, you need living things dying and rotting and composting to make up soil and stuff! If plants just disappear when they die, what do people eat, what were all these buildings made from? Plus he distinctly remembers coal being a thing in this setting, there was a whole town that got shafted because of it and everything, so fossil fuels exist, therefore stuff must leave behind physical remains! Except when it doesn't?

So! Is death like instant ascending here? Or like it descending, since all energy returns to the Planet? Sephiroth is pretty sure that Aerith left behind a body, and there were definitely corpses in the original game - but again, in the prequel it was really unclear. Enemies in combat disappeared, but cutscene death left a body. Except when it didn't!

Ah, the limitations of technology.

Still, he's interested in seeing how the creatures would look and feel and compare them to those he knows from PIDW. Final Fantasy VII had some really weird monsters, and he has a bet going with himself about how much they resemble awakened beasts or yaoguai. 

Angeal looks at him and then smiles, hoisting the Buster Sword to his back. "Ready to go, then?"

"Ready," Sephiroth agrees.

"We're going to have to talk to the Colonel first, but don't worry - I'll handle the talking," Angeal says. "He's an… old-fashioned soldier." 

Sephiroth arches a brow. It sounds like a warning. "Which means…?"

"He doesn't like SOLDIER, he thinks we're stuck up and get our abilities handed to us, we don't deserve our reputation, the usual stuff," Angeal shrugs. "Just ignore it and let me handle it."

"... If you say so."

They head outside together, and Sephiroth takes a moment to look around and try to be an objective observer. This place isn't really anything like the towns back home, in PIDW - the aesthetics are mixed, and though they're more like home than Midgar was, it's as if the place was squeezed through a funhouse mirror. It's just a little off.

And of course, there are no locals anywhere to be seen for a full comparison - just Shinra troops, infantry men and SOLDIERs. Who, the moment they notice him and Angeal, stop to stare and point and whisper.

Has the… incident in Midgar already spread this far, or is this really what it's like being Sephiroth all the time?

Depressing.

"Here," Angeal says and leads him to another house, apparently being used by the Colonel. "Remember, let me do the talking. You just stand there and look imposing, okay?"

Sephiroth snorts. "I think I can manage that."

The Colonel didn't look happy to see them, but then, he doesn't look like a man that's ever really happy. He sizes Sephiroth up and then scoffs. "It's about time. I don't know what kind of discipline you SOLDIER Firsts enjoy in Midgar, but this is a war front, sir, there are rules here."

Does that mean Sephiroth isn't a General then? 

"Right, you're right, of course, sir," Angeal says placatingly. "Well, we're here now, and we already have missions lined up, so -"

The Colonel ignores him and comes around his desk and to Sephiroth's face. "You've been in and out of Wutai for most of this war, isn't that correct, SOLDIER?"

Sephiroth blinks at the man, slowly. "I suppose so." Behind the Colonel Angeal looks panicked.

"What was that?" The Colonel asks dangerously, narrowing his eyes. "You suppose so?"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes back.

The Colonel continues. "When talking to an officer of superior rank, you answer yes sir, or no sir. You do not suppose! Now, do you have experience in the war or not, SOLDIER?!"

Oh, someone is feeling very insecure in their boots, aren't they?

Now, Sephiroth could handle this with all the tact and delicacy of Shen Qingqiu… but even Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have swallowed that kind of spiel without biting. The original definitely wouldn't have! And Sephiroth is supposed to be a villain… well.

Sephiroth smiles - the Colonel recoils.

Last night he'd reread everything there was on his phone about Wutai, going through all his missions again, trying to get as much intelligence as he could. Funny, the things the tutorial left out. 

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth says sweetly. "Who are you?"

The Colonel goes a little red. "Excuse me, SOLDIER?"

"You're barking at me as though at a private, expecting me to go yes sir and no sir," Sephiroth says mockingly. "And yet I have no clue as to who you even are."

Behind the Colonel Angeal gapes and then lifts a pleading look to the ceiling.

The Colonel sputters. "You, you - How dare -"

Ah, you gotta love zero IQ bullies.

"I was given a whole slew of missions and orders," Sephiroth says softly. "All are very vital and high priority. I'm to slay monsters that have killed your men, I'm to hunt down spies you've clearly failed to find, I'm to clear a guard station you haven't been able to get near, I'm to weaken a fortress you cannot even touch, and ten other things besides. All my mission files are very clear. And you know what they all have in common?"

He leans a little closer to the Colonel - right in his purple face. "Not a single one of them mentions you."

Then, before the Colonel can recover, Sephiroth turns on his heel with an imaginary mike drop and saunters out, feeling a whole lot better about everything. The sun is shining, the troopers are scattering at the mere sight of him, and the air is fresh and sweet with natural Qi.

Already this day is looking up.

Angeal, clearly deciding that evasion was the better part of valour, hurries after him. "We're going to pay for that later, you know," he says, sounding defeated.

Of that Sephiroth doesn't have any doubts. What good is a one-time bully? There'd either be a horrifying scene of comeuppance to bring home the realities of war, or a heartfelt discovery and understanding about how they're not so different after all, or whatever else. 

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Sephiroth says cheerfully. "Now. I was promised monsters."

Angeal sighs, glancing back at the house commandeered by the Colonel. "... I guess we better clear out anyway. Alright," he motions. "Right this way to the monsters."

Sephiroth grins at his bitchy tone, and together they head out.

-

SY can have a petty bully scene, as a treat.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #ff7 #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #sephiroth #angeal hewley

[alex-journal]

Creep (Zoro Version)

Click for Sanji [x] Luffy [x] Law [x] Kid [x] Click for Ao3 here [x]

Summary: One night, the crew decided to visit a local bar to drink and party. But beside music, booze and food, y/n meets a creepy dude with too much confident. Luckily, Zoro is there to safe the night. Pronouns: he/him cw: creepy dude, unwanted flirt,

As a newcomer to the crew, y/n was still trying to find his place. He was excited to be part of such an amazing group of people, but he also felt like he didn't quite fit in. The rest of the crew had been together for so long, and sometimes he felt like an outsider looking in.

One night, the crew decided to visit a local bar to drink and party. y/n was excited at the prospect of letting off some steam, he had always enjoyed a good bar. Drinking, laughing, and talking with old and new friends and meeting new people had always been one of his favorite pastimes. The bar was crowded, and the atmosphere was rowdy. People were drinking and dancing, and the noise level was almost deafening.

At first, y/n tried his best to fit in. He talked to some townsfolk, danced with Chopper, but as the night went on, he found himself getting more and more uncomfortable. To calm his nerves, he went to the bar counter and sat there for a beer, or two. But the feeling of being watched didn’t go away, and he started to feel like he was being targeted, singled out by one of the other patrons.

As he sat there at the bar, sipping on a drink, a man approached him. At first, the man seemed friendly, but the longer they talked, the more y/n realized that he was being hit on. The man was making suggestive comments and invading y/n‘s personal space, he started to feel anxious. 

y/n didn't know what to do. He felt trapped, and he didn't want to cause a scene. No matter how much he tried to politely excuse himself and to leave, the men in front of him roped him back up in the conversation. Looking for a way out or help, he looked around in the bar. y/n noticed Zoro watching him from across the room, and he felt a sense of relief. Even tho he was new on the Crew it felt like Zoro looked out for him and as their gaze meet, it seemed Zoro understand him and how unconformable y/n felt.

Then, as if on a cue of now or never, the man at the bar leaned in to kiss y/n. y/n froze, not knowing what to do. But Zoro rushed over, grabbing the man by the collar and pulling him away from y/n .

"You need to back off!" Zoro growled, his eyes flashing with anger.

The man stumbled back, staring at Zoro in surprise.

"What the hell, man? I was just trying to have a little fun."

Zoro glared at him, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Leave him alone," he said, his voice low and menacing.

The man looked from Zoro to y/n, then shook his head and walked away, mumbling some insults but knowing better as to start a direct fight with the green haired man. 

y/n let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He looked over at Zoro, feeling a rush of gratitude.

"Thanks," he said, his voice shaking a little but a smile on his lips.

Zoro shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"No problem," he muttered, avoiding y/n‘s gaze.

But y/n could tell that Zoro was happy to have been able to help. At that moment, he felt a sense of kinship with Zoro that he hadn’t felt before. “You should join me at the table, it’s easier to keep the creeps away..” Surprised, y/n nodded and followed Zoro to the table the swordsman had sat earlier. They didn’t talk much, but they didn’t need to. Usopp talked a lot, told stories about their Adventures to every patron, who was willing - or unwilling- to listen. Nami ripped off a handful of people at poker, though y/n had a feeling that Robin played her part in Nami's success one way or another. When Luffy didn’t eat, he danced and sang with Chopper and Franky, while Sanji flirted with every beautiful woman he saw- tho Sanji seemed less creepy as the men y/n meet at the bar, accepting a no and just moving on to flirt with the next.

The night at the bar continued, and y/n had a great time. He realized that he wasn't an outsider, he was part of a family. A family of pirates who would do anything to protect one of their own, they just show their love differently than he is used to. 

As they left the bar, y/n walked over to Zoro and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said again, his voice a little more confident this time.

Zoro looked at him and smiled, a tiny smile that showed how much he had come to care for y/n.

"No problem," he said. "You're one of us."

#Zoro x Reader #Roronoa Zoro x reader #Zoro x Male Reader #Roronoa Zoro x Male reader #Zoro & Reader #Roronoa Zoro & reader #Zoro & Male Reader #Roronoa Zoro & Male reader #One Piece x Reader #One Piece x y/n #One Piece x male Reader #One Piece x Male y/n #Straw Hat Reader #one piece x platonic reader #x male reader x y/n #x male y/n #Straw Hat x Reader #Straw Hat x y/n #Platonic Reader #Content Warning #cw: creep #cw: unwanted flirting

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

My AO3 acount

writershapeholeonthedoor

My Masterlist on Tumblr

Requests

SUPERCORP

One-Shots

Yellow Sun: Lena had never been more comfortable in her entire life

It's Cold Outside: 6 times Lena feels cold and 1 time Kara promises to keep her warm

Good Luck Kisses: There's a new trend around

You marked more than just my skin: Kara gets a tattoo and Lena is an tattoo artist

Dino gear: Kara’s main goal is to make Lena happy

You look perfect: Lena can't stop staring

I'm slowly dying (with or without you): Lena has a panic attack, Kara’s there

Old friends: Sam attends Alex's wedding.

Baby Driver: Lena doesn't know how to drive and Kara offers to teach her so she can take her license, however, driving proves to be harder than Lena thought it would be.

Drabbles

Kara declaims short poems at Lena part 1

Kara declaims short poems at Lena part 2

Supercorp at Quarantine part 1

Fanart/Gif sets drabbles (inspired by fanarts or gif sets from other people)

Wives spending a cozy night at home

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Kara explaining her tattoos

Lena’s Birthday

BISHOVA

Slumber Party: Yelena wants to have a slumber party tonight.

That is not cutlery: Yelena keeps coming back and Kate just might end up wanting her to stay.

CAROLNAT

I Wanna Believe (that we're a masterpiece): Natasha seems to be unable to take care of herself, so Carol decides she will be the one to do that.

WANDANAT

Pillow talk: Natasha is back from a mission and all she wants is to see Wanda. Wanda, however, is already enterteined with another activity.

Take Care: Everyone tries to warn Wanda what a bad idea it is to fall in love with the big, bad, scary spy.

TWILIGHT

Drabble: Cute Rosalie and Charlie bonding moment.

Bella is high: Bella smokes weed.

FLORENCE PUGH X READER

Sunday Plans: It's a lazy Sunday morning and Florence has an important question for you

Happy Together: A cute unplanned date night with your girlfriend, Florence.

Black widow: Cooking With Flo is back and you make an accidental cameo that get the entire world to know about you relationship with Florence.

Kiss me more: This is the first time your friends are meeting your girlfriend and you're excited about it.

Sunrise in the East: Reader is very happy having one-night stands or having friends with benefits, avoiding any serious relationship for a while now. However, things change and she suddenly starts to think that dating wouldn't be all that bad.

SCARLETT JOHANSSON X READER

Mrs Hollywood: It's not always easy to date a Hollywood star.

Make up your mind: You ask Scarlett out on a date.

Mayores: Someone sends you flowers and your girlfriend isn't happy about it.

ELIZABETH OLSEN X READER

Marry you: During an interview, someone asks you to marry them and your girlfriend isn't happy about it.

Marry you (part 2): Your girlfriend proposed, your friends are happy for you, and you still have work to do.

Marry you (part 3): It's time for the world to know about your relationship.

Cool kids: Elizabeth meets your son.

Love me harder: You are having a nice day out with Elizabeth when a paparazzi stumble over you.

Happier than ever: Your last relationship was toxic and you're still coping with that.

Only girl: You and Elizabeth enjoy a quiet night at home.

She's so lovely: Elizabeth introduces you to the world.

Lay all your love (on me): You get hired to be Elizabeth’s love interest in her new movie and nothing could prepare you to how your life would change upon meeting her.

Skin: *SMUT* There are times when you need Elizabeth to consume you.

Runnin' home to you: After months of trying, it’s time to tell your wife that you're pregnant.

Dog days are over: Elizabeth isn’t a dog person… but you are. After the puppy interview, you try to convince your girlfriend to take one of them home.

Tattooed heart: You have tattoos everywhere and your girlfriend suffers from severe anxiety. You learned to walk around with Sharpies to help her out.

Into you: A quiet day at home with the person that consumes your every breath.

| Last updated: Jan. 20th, 2024.

#my writing #masterlist #fanfic #ao3 #supercorp #bishova #carolnat #twilight #florence pugh #scarlett johansson #florence pugh x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #drabbles #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wandanat #wanda x natasha

[writtenonreceipts]

a/n: Bonus points if you can point out where one of my (many) mental breakdowns occurs.  She’s a bit of a disaster.  I literally don’t know where this came from…

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas @aelinschild!  Written as part of the @rowaelinscourt secret santa exchange. Thanks for putting up with me and my myriad of asks.  It’s been wonderful to get to know you these last few weeks! <3<3<3<3

Find the companion Elorcan piece here! Set just a few months before the main events of this story.

AO3 Link here

Warnings: nothing major, non-explicit/passing mentions of trauma/abuse, very brief mention of drugs ~25k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Until the Dust Settles

A golden sun set behind the Oakwald Mountains, casting long shadows across the long stretch of land that made up Whitethorn Ranch.  The acres were a makeup of subtle rills and hills where horses could run for ages and the flatter earth where a decent sized garden yielded a fair amount for the farmers market in the spring and summer. 

The land had been in Rowan Whitethorn’s family for over one hundred years—it was the only home he’d ever known.  He’d grown up racing horses through the vast fields or spending winter chasing down animals that had gotten loose in a storm.  He would admit that sometimes it was a hard life to live—the constant work, the fear for the animal’s safety.  But it certainly had its benefits.

The spring and summer that actually made the land worth having.  Not only because there in the farther outreaches of the countryside, things seemed untouched by society—which really was the only thing worth mentioning.  But it also allowed for the most tourism and when most people came to visit that ranch.

For nearly twenty years now, Whitethorn Ranch was mostly known for its outreach program for troubled teens.  When kids needed time away from home where it was for depression, anxiety, trauma, misbehavior—they came to the ranch.  

It had started ages ago when Rowan’s great-grandfather came to own the land and took on the runaways who were escaping bad situations.  His great-grandparents accepted anyone who came by the ranch as their own and the attitude extended through the generations.  By the time Rowan’s father gained the land, things had turned to be more professional.  

The ranch used a mix of therapy modems and simple outreach to help those who needed it.  They offered day visits for schools, riding lessons, even month-long visits and stays for extreme cases.  It was careful water to tread sometimes.  Recently, Rowan had been more conscious about making sure the kids who came felt safe and wanted.  He never accepted anyone who was forced to come, unless he could talk to the kid first.  Even then, he knew that help only helped when someone actually wanted it.

But now as Rowan stared over the golden horizon, he wondered how anyone could turn a sight like this down.

He tightened Goldryn’s reins and clicked his tongue, directing the horse back to the stables.  It had been a long day of checkouts and clean up.  This late in the fall, most people only came by for tours or field trips.  Business wouldn’t pick back up until May at least.

For now, the ranch would rely on its usual borders.  There were a few families that owned horses but didn’t have the land to keep them, so Rowan rented out stalls and charged for care.  It kept him busy enough in the slower months.  Him and Lorcan, his best friend from college, made things work though.  It had taken a great deal of convincing to get Lorcan to come out here, but the grumpy bastard enjoyed being outside and this job presented plenty of opportunity.

It certainly helped that Lorcan had recently started dating Elide Lochan, who was a staple to the small town.  And Rowan had to admit—they were good together.

As he rode down a worn path along the paddock fence, Rowan could see a shape waiting for him in the distance.  He grimaced.  There was only one person that would be so intent on talking to him.

He slowed Goldryn to a trot, knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

Leaning against a fence post with her arms crossed and golden blonde hair hanging in loose curls was Aelin Galathynius.  Brilliant, beautiful, and a pain in his ass.  She had come to the ranch almost six months ago after graduating from a top university specializing in trauma.  She was exactly what he needed for what he was trying to accomplish here and exactly the right person to drive him insane.

Rowan pulled Goldryn to a stop at the fence gate and stared down at Aelin.  Her cold blue eyes stared right back up.  She’d long since traded her fancy clothes and high heels out for jeans and t-shirts.  She even wore a baseball cap on occasion.  And yet the change of close did nothing to diminish her looks.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.  She didn’t flinch when Goldryn stamped her feet with a loud snort.  Another thing Aelin had improved upon, not being jumpy around the animals.  Though, she did eye the mare with a bit of distrust.

“It’s outside of my office hours,” he replied.  “Try again tomorrow.”

Aelin scowled at him.  It was the same excuse she used on him when he needed to talk to her, he didn’t see why she should be so upset to have it thrown back in her face.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” she said.

“I know what I said.”  He adjusted his hold on the reins and shrugged. “It’s been a busy few days.”

He jumped off of Goldryn’s back, landing in the earth with a soft thump.  He could just as easily have Aelin open the gate for him, but he was convinced she would have tried to scratch his eyes out if he’d asked.  Keeping one hand in the reins, Rowan unlatched the gate and swung it open towards him.  Goldryn snorted again, huffing as she backed up a few feet to make room.  

Aelin too had taken a step back but she didn’t go far.  She was several inches shorter than he was, even in the boots she wore, but still taller than the average woman.  She had a lean, athletic build Rowan had seen put to good use.  When some of the kids got restless on their extended stays she would workout with them, go for runs, turn hay bales, the whole nine-yards.  She wasn’t weak by any means.

“What do you need, princess?” he asked as he led Goldryn through the gate, locking the paddock again behind him.  He kept himself between Aelin and the horse, mostly because he knew she still wasn’t comfortable around the larger animals and even he wasn’t that cruel.

Still, Aelin almost stalked off right then.  Rowan could see it in her eyes, the tilt of her chin.  It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had.  Hell, he’d never met anyone as stubborn as Aelin Galathynius.  Not even one of his horses had as much attitude.

But he knew she needed something and even though it killed her, she uncrossed her arms and kept pace with him as he set off toward the stables.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said flatly.  She flicked her hair over one shoulder as she kept her steps purposeful, even when she stepped in a small hole and nearly went careening forward.

Rowan tried to reach out and steady her as he kept Goldryn reined in, but Aelin waved him off.  She straightened herself out and got on even footing before she continued to scowl at the ground.  She’d always been like that too—refusing help and insisting she could manage things on her own.  She was damned near worse than Farasha.

“Easy,” he said.  He was talking to the horse, who was yanking on the reins a bit too hard.  Aelin of course would never miss an opportunity to glare at him.

It was a shame they hated each other; Rowan decided.  Because try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.  Between her blue eyes, the golden waves of hair, the mischievous tilt of her lips—he’d be a fool not to acknowledge it.  But Aelin was also impossibly stubborn.  She fought him on everything.  She was opinionated.  She was selfish.  She was—

“I want you to open up another week for kids to come and stay over Christmas and New Years,” Aelin said.  She adjusted the yellow and black flannel she wore, eyes straight forward.

She was going to drive him to an early grave.

It was Rowan’s turn to stumble as he spun to look at her. “You what?”

Goldryn snorted, pulling on the reins again.  Oh she was mad at him.  They were a few minutes late to dinner now and she knew it.  Damn horse.

“An extra week for kids to come stay over the holidays,” Aelin repeated.  She didn’t flinch from the way he turned his own glare on her, only kept walking with that insufferable tilt to her chin.

“Why?” he asked.

Christmas—any of the holidays this time of year really—always made for a quieter time on the ranch.  People were more content to stay at home and put off their problems a little longer.  It wasn’t until after that people realized how much they hated their circumstances.  Even then, they didn’t seek out his ranch for anything more than daily horse rides.  Nothing to actually problem solve.

“It’s a hard time of year for kids,” Aelin said.  

They reached the stables and she helped slide the great door open.  Immediately, the heating system blasted them with a warm gush of air accompanied by the scent of hay, manure, and feed.  It was a scent Rowan had grown used to and, strange as it was, he took comfort in.

Rowan handed Goldryn off to one of the stable hands who took the mare to her stall.  Turning to Aelin, Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, taking her in.  She had a fiery determination about her and he knew he wouldn’t be able to brush her off easily.

“Open up an extra week so these kids can have a safe place to come,” Aelin insisted. “There’s a program with the city—”

“Please, Aelin, I know what that means,” he said, already walking away.  She could trail him and make her case if it was so important. “I won’t actually get paid for the extra costs.  The city pretends to take care of all the funding but doesn’t actually give me what I need.”

“I’ll take care of it all,” Aelin said, indeed following right after him as he moved to the feed barrels.  She even managed to dodge the droppings from the lone pig that wandered the stables. “I’ll keep up the communications with the program.  I know the director, she’s not a flake.”

Rowan had heard things like this before.  Sellene had tried to get him to take state funding before too, all that resulted in was mounds of paperwork and audits.

He opened the feed barrels and started scooping portions into waiting buckets that would go to the various horse stalls.  Aelin took one of the buckets as soon as it was filled, her manicured fingers wrapping around the handle.  

“The Cavarre Foundation wants to help kids,” Aelin continued.  She grabbed another bucket. “They’ve already got a list of kids they can send over.”

“Then they can wait til after the holidays,” Rowan said.

He hefted his own buckets and went to the first stall.  A yearling named Quinn was already waiting for his feed.  His owners were aiming for the colt to be a stallion and show for congress.  Quinn had a bit too much attitude to take to that sort of training, he’d be better as a rodeo horse or in the fields, but Rowan wasn’t being paid for that commentary.

“Watch it buddy,” Rowan warned the colt as he opened the stall and eased toward the trough in the corner.  Quinn nickered and pranced a bit, but ultimately didn’t give him any issues.

Aelin waited outside the stall, the tension in her body obvious.  She should just go and catch up with him later.  He would have suggested it too if she didn’t immediately start talking again.

“What if their home lives aren’t the best?  These kids have been selected from a few of the foster homes in the area and recommended by psychiatrists that this would be a beneficial healing opportunity.”  Aelin dodged around a worker moving hay, this time landing one foot in a pile of pig dung.  She didn’t flinch. “Isn’t that what this ranch is about?”

No it wasn’t.

Rowan opened the door of Hessina’s stall.  The mare was pregnant, due in late February, and had to be the sweetest horse he actually owned.  Rowan offered her a nose rub that she eagerly accepted.

“Are you even listening to me?” Aelin asked as Rowan closed the stall again.

“Hard not to when you won’t shut up,” he muttered.  He couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not--her scowl remained perfectly etched on her face and she betrayed nothing as she walked with him to the next two stalls.

It didn’t take long to get most of the horses fed and ensure they had plenty of water.  The night wasn’t set to get too cold, so they wouldn’t bring out the blankets.  The heating system worked well enough to keep things warm but not freezing and these horses were all conditioned and bred for the chilly winter weather as it was.

By the time Rowan was ready to head back to the main house it had almost darkened completely outside.  Another long day done only for it to continue tomorrow and the day after.  He’d only been officially running the ranch for five years and he was ready to be done with it.

After making sure everything was set for the night, and checking in with the shift leader, Rowan decided he could leave everything as it was.  Lorcan would be in tomorrow to do a once over.  As the lead stable manager, he oversaw the functioning of the workers and the horses.  He even did a bit of training on the horses.  Not that Lorcan would ever admit to doing so.  

“You still here?” Rowan said to Aelin as he headed back to the cold night.  It was a twenty-minute walk, but the weather had been decent enough that he hadn’t wanted to bother with his car. 

“You never gave me an answer,” she said.

They walked across the long drive that led straight to the main house.  The road wasn’t paved, only gravel packed dirt that wound it’s way around the property.  When kids were staying in the cabins, Aelin had a room designated for her in the house, but she usually just went back into town where she rented an apartment.  As far as he knew, she was still planning on leaving when they reached her car.

“I already told you no,” he said.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make; opening the ranch up for a week.  Especially over the holidays.  He knew that Lorcan didn’t care about this time of year and there were a few ranch hands that wouldn’t mind the extra time to work.  But if the city program never paid him, he could never pay for the extra work.  And while he knew he could handle the work on his own if necessary…well, Rowan just didn’t see the point of approving this.

“It’s a lot to take on without much warning,” he added, before Aelin could rise up in a defensive retort. “Give me a day, alright?”

They finally reached the main house with its large wrap-around porch, the whitewashed wood, and three-story windows.  His cousin was probably inside already cooking up a meal that she’d filmed for her Instagram page.  It was the kind of house for a family, for someone with more to their name than Rowan did.  Sometimes he really hated coming home.

Aelin car, a small two-door Audi, waited from where she’d parked it that morning.  Rowan would be very interested to know how she planned on getting around once the snow started.

“I’ll take on any extra work you need,” she said, “cooking, cleaning, I’ll care for horses—”

“You hate the horses,” he said.

Her mouth twisted to the side. “I’ll do what I need to do.  Please, Rowan.  I think this would be a really good opportunity.”

Rowan didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that she said please or used his first name.  He made the mistake of meeting her gaze, the gold undertones of the blue bright in the porch lights.  Shaking his head, Rowan muttered a curse.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” he told her.

Aelin nodded once. “Thank-you.”

It was the most civil they’d been to each other in a long time.  Usually their exchanges ended in accusations, shouting, and name calling.  Aelin too seemed caught off guard by it.  She stepped back, digging for her keys in her pocket.  She nodded again before returning to her car.

Rowan remained outside as she made a quick U-turn in the large gravel drive.  She disappeared into the night quietly, the taillights soon lost as she curved down a bend in the road.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Rowan already knew the answer he would have to give Aelin.  It was one he’d have to give his entire staff.  And he knew no one was going to like it.  Come new year he was going to sell the ranch to someone new.  And just like that the legacy his family had left him would be gone.

…

As she drove down the highway into town, Aelin found herself wringing the steering wheel of the car while imagining it was Rowan Whitethorn’s neck.  She knew, she knew, he was going to tell her no.  He would text her first thing in the morning and tell her that her request would be denied.  That the thing she actually cared about wouldn’t see the light of day.

He was a bastard.

She’d known it from the first day she’d met him so many months ago.  

It was her first full day in Oakwald, having left everything behind in Terrasen, and she was ready to start anew.  She’d expected things to be hard.  But she hadn’t expected Rowan Whitethorn to look at her with such contempt and tell her that she really had no business being there in the first place.  As if he hadn’t hired her just a week ago to fill a vacancy in his staff.

Not to mention the look he’d given her clothes, her car, everything about her was some big cosmic joke.  

Aelin sighed and turned off the highway to the bar where her one real friend worked.

Her little Audi was out of place among the trucks and SUVs.  She just needed to make it another two weeks without any bad weather and she’d have access to her new car.  Locking up, she hurried into the bar, already relishing the warmth awaiting.

In the span of one minute, the cold November air nearly sucked the life out of her.  The bar was a welcome reprieve as it was always kept at a decent heat.  Even with the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air, it had a comforting air about it.

Aelin went to the counter and slipped into a stool right next to Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Seriously?” he growled at her with a malicious side eye.

“It's the best of both worlds,” Aelin said with a cheeky smile. “You don’t like sharing your girlfriend, but she’s my best friend.  You still can talk to her and freely ignore me.”

Lorcan was not impressed by the explanation.  Back in the city, Aelin would have done everything in her power to avoid a man like him.  He was massive with long black hair and enough scars to indicate bad news.  His leather jacket strained with his broad shoulders and thick muscles.  And while Aelin would admit she had a thing for guys of a certain physique there was something dark about Lorcan that she couldn’t explain.  Which made it all the more surprising that he and Elide had started dating.

“Hey, Aelin!” Elide appeared from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, carrying a tray of appetizers for another table.

“Hey!” Aelin called back.

Just a few months ago, Elide had told her about the confession she’d overheard where Lorcan admitted his feelings for her.  It had led to a heated kiss and a night that Elide said was the best of her life.  It was the only explanation Aelin needed or wanted.  She was glad her friend was happy, even if it was with Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Glad to see you’re still grumpy as ever,” Aelin told Lorcan.  She snagged a few pretzels in one of the many bowls set up along the bar.  She’d long gotten over her germ contamination worries.  

Lorcan grunted and sipped his beer.  Aelin rolled her eyes.

“You’re just like Whitethorn,” she said.

Another grunt.  Well, it was better than utter ignorance she supposed.

Elide appeared a minute later.  She leaned against the counter and raised a brow.

“Wow, you actually chose to sit next to Lorcan,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”

“I figured it would be better than making the old man upset that you would choose me over him to talk to,” Aelin explained.  “Besides, I think he’s warming up to me.”

Lorcan cut her a look that only had her grinning.

Elide snorted a laugh. “Yeah, besties the two of you.  What would you like to drink?”

“Just a coke,” Aelin said, “I should get home soon.”

“Coke and mozzarella sticks coming up,” Elide said with a wink.  She glanced at Lorcan. “Babe?”

Lorcan stared at his girlfriend for a long moment before registering what she said.  The corner of his mouth picked up in a smile and he shook his head.  

“Nah, I’m good.”

Elide only smiled fondly as she got Aelin her coke and went to put in an order for mozzarella sticks.

It was strange to Aelin just how enmeshed she’d gotten into this small town just in the past few months since arriving.  She never thought she’d find a place to belong more than in Terrasen, but there was something about Oakwald that she couldn’t deny enjoying.  It certainly helped that she and Elide had become such quick friends.  

But really, Aelin was glad to be out of Terrasen.  She needed a new start.  A new life.  Here, no one knew her history, her parents, anything beyond the fact that she was the new therapist on Whitethorn Ranch.  And she liked it that way.

Elide returned a minute later, her thick black hair piled in a new bun atop her head.  She often worked doubles all week long without much time for herself, let alone to date anyone.  But Aelin had learned a long time ago that Elide was as good as they came.  She worked hard, cared harder, and was one of the most genuine individuals she’d ever met.

“How was the ranch?” Elide asked.  She set another beer on the bar for Lorcan without his needing to ask for it.

“Good,” Aelin said, “it’s been slowing down.  But if Whitethorn wouldn’t be such an ass, it would pick up.  I pitched him my idea for the extra week over the holidays.  He’s just going to say no, though.” Beside her, Lorcan made a noise.  She shot him a glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “it doesn’t matter.”

He looked up when the bar door opened and a few of his friends came in.  He rapped his knuckles on the counter before standing to go join them.

Aelin looked back to Elide. “How can you like him?”

“Because I do,” Elide said simply.  She leaned across the counter with a sigh. “I’m sure Rowan will approve your idea.  It’s a good one and he knows it’s what his ranch is for.  Take him the numbers and notes you came up with.  He can’t say no to concrete evidence.”

Aelin nodded absently.  When she’d come to Oakwald it had been in part to get away from Terrasen.  But it had also been a beckoning call from her cousin and his wife.

Lysandra Cavarre-Ashryver had been a close friend of Aelin’s for years when they’d grown up together in Terrasen.  They’d lost contact when Lysandra’s foster family took her across the country.  Aelin too had lost contact with her cousin after a series of messy family drama.  It was only after Aelin’s…accident a few years ago that they’d slowly reconnected.

And to be honest ever since talking with Lysandra and Aedion again, Aelin had slowly started feeling like herself.  It had only taken six years.

“I just…I really think it’s a good plan, especially for those kids,” she said.  This entire thing was the only thing keeping her afloat right now.  A job that gave her purpose, a chance to reunite with her cousin…it was better than being left with the reality of potentially going back to Terrasen.

Aelin shuddered at the thought and sipped her coke.  The carbonation danced on her tongue as she swallowed.

“He’s going to say yes,” Elide said.  She gave Aelin another look of assurance before going back to the kitchen to check on orders.

Aelin didn’t know what to think.  Elide had to be on her side, that’s what friends did.  But Elide was also not the kind to cling to false hope.

“Yeah,” she said to herself.  She had to believe that this would go right.  Because the alternative…well she didn’t want to think about that.

…

“What do you mean no?” Aelin asked.

She stared across the desk at Rowan who looked utterly passive as he sat in his chair, fingers steepled before him.

They were in the office of the main house where most of the “on paper” business of the ranch was taken care of.  Aelin had spent a bit of time here over the last several months.  Mostly to force Rowan to listen to her on a subject.  And just like all the other times before it was proving to be hostile and unproductive.

The office was simple in decoration with only a few framed pictures of Rowan’s dad, granddad, and great-granddad, a few knick-knacks on the shelves, and medals and certificates of recognition that the ranch had received over the years for various horses that had made nationals and other such things.

 Aelin didn’t like the room very much.  The rest of the house had a homey feel, but she believed that was because Sellene lived on site while she went to school at the local community college and hosted an online cooking show with Instagram.  It was Sellene that added the feminine touch to the main concourses.  Rowan hardly seemed like the domestic type.  If things were his way the entire house would be empty save for a display of guns.

“I mean no,” Rowan said.  He didn’t even look apologetic as he delivered the news.  “It’s too much work for the ranch in this season.  Most of the workers are already leaving until things pick up in the spring.  And if you can’t guarantee payment then I’m not putting in the risk.”

She pulled out the binder she’d curated with Lysandra and dropped it on the desk with a thunk.

“I have the costs and benefits listed, what the program will offer in payment before and after, they have releases all lined up, the programs director is willing to come down and help with whatever is needed supervision wise for the kids.”  Aelin flipped the binder open to the different graphs and spreadsheets. “If you’d just look it over.”

She was trying desperately to keep her voice even, to keep from shaking and revealing too much, but Aelin could feel a familiar sense of panic rising within her.  This was happening.  He was going to turn her down and she would be left with the solid evidence that she couldn’t even do something as simple as start a therapeutic program on her own.

“Aelin,” Rowan said.  He leaned across the desk and placed a hand on the open binder.  He didn’t even bother to look at the pages of carefully crafted data.  Instead, his stupid green eyes bore into her with what Aelin could only describe as pity.

The bastard was pitying her?

She slid the binder away from him, protective of it and all the work she’d put into its contents.  

“Fine,” she said.  She shouldn’t have been surprised.  In the last seven months of knowing him, he had always been cold and heartless. The kind of person that Aelin should have known better than getting into business with.  He wasn’t any better than—

“I have three conditions,” Rowan said suddenly.

Aelin snapped her eyes back to his.  He couldn’t really mean—

“First, you’ll be expected to pick up extra slack from the workers who already have approved time off for the holiday,” Rowan said, “and you’ll have to convince Lorcan to work over time.”

Aelin blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No strings attached?”

“Well, I doubt you’re going to get Lorcan to help.” Rowan shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He paused as if considering what his next words would be. “He doesn’t like helping people very much.”

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Aelin said, her body still thrumming with excitement. “No need to sugar coat it.  What was your third condition?”

Rowan adjusted the cuff of his shirt. “The program director needs to have at least a quarter of the payment to me by tomorrow afternoon.”

“She can have it to you by today,” Aelin said automatically.  She knew that just like her, Lysandra had been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along and had made sure she had sufficient funding all lined up.  Plus, there was Aedion who would go to hell and back if it meant getting Lysandra something she wanted.

Rowan didn’t seem convinced that her words held much weight but he only nodded. “Alright.  Then from the twenty third to January second you’re in charge.”

“Deal.  Done.”  Aelin agreed automatically.  She would have given him the twenty in her wallet and her library card if it would make a difference.  Which it should.  Her library card was worth gold.

Despite his agreement, displeasure was plain to see on Rowan’s face.  He still didn’t like this plan.  Well he could just suck it up.  By the time Aelin was through and was able to execute all the ideas she had—he would see.  This was going to be a brilliant idea, one that could easily become a new tradition for the ranch.

He held out a hand toward her and Aelin stared.  Did he want to shake on this?

“The binder,” he said, one silver brow raised.

Aelin felt a bit of heat rise in her cheeks, but she forced it back.  This binder was her baby.  Quite literally the thing that had pulled her through her master’s program, and hopefully to a doctorate.

“You’re going to be mean to her,” she said.

“It’s a binder.”

“It’s my child.”

Rowan’s lips parted in surprise.  Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d caught him off guard.  It was his turn to stare at her, those green eyes boring into her with such intensity Aelin would have thought he could actually see into her soul.

“I need to know what you’re going to put my ranch through,” he said.

Aelin pursed her lips.  She knew she’d have to relent, but handing over the binder felt like handing over a piece of her and she didn’t think she was ready for that.  Rowan’s hand still wanted expectantly and she glanced down at it.  His palm was upturned and she could see the roughhewn calluses on his fingers and knuckles.  His skin was clean though, the nails neatly trimmed and no dirt tucked in the nail beds.  She’d never quite realized just how big Rowan actually was, in all these months.  And here he was holding out a hand to her and all she could do was stare.

Like a maniac.

She dropped the binder into his hand.  He barely twitched.

“I’ll just wait to hear from your…friend?” he asked.

“Lysandra Cavarre,” Aelin said.  Technically Lysandra Ashryver, but Aelin really didn’t want to go into the complications of last names and what they meant.  She’d made it this far without any association to her past, she could keep it up a while longer.

“Lysandra,” Rowan repeated, committing the name to memory.  He nodded and accepted the binder onto his desk. “I’ll leave you to it then.  You’ve got a lot of work to do if you think Lorcan’s going to agree to this easily.”

“Oh, he’s even more of a bastard than you,” Aelin replied quickly.  She smiled as sweetly as she would if she were talking with someone she liked. “But I’m best friends with his girlfriend.”

With that, Aelin rose from her seat, collecting her bag as she went.  When she reached the door, she turned back and smiled again.

“You won’t regret this.”

Just as she was pulling the door of his office shut behind her, she could have sworn she heard the soft murmur: Mala save me.

Aelin smirked to herself as she walked back through the house.  If she was adding just a little bit of extra misery to Rowans day, she didn’t suppose that would be an issue.  The grumpy buzzard deserved it.

She passed the kitchen where Sellene was sitting at the counter, a pile of books for school in front of her.  Pausing, Aelin rerouted to just say hi to the Whitethorn cousin.

Sellene, a few years older than Aelin’s twenty-five, had always been a staple of the ranch.  Even when she was doing her schooling, she’d taken time off to help raise her younger brother Endymion after their parents passed, she was almost always at the ranch.  Now that Endymion had gone to his own college of choice, Sellene was now able to pursue her own desires.

“Hey, Sel,” Aelin greeted.  She went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.

“Hey Aelin,” Sellene said. “Rowan giving you a hard time?”

“Has he always been so cranky?”  Aelin asked.  She sighed and leaned against the counter as she rested her elbows on the granite.  

Across from her, Sellene chuckled. “I guess you could say that.  Just be glad he likes you.”

“Please.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “He hates me.”

“If he hated you, do you think he’d keep you around?” Sellene raised a brow in question. “He’s an ass, but he knows you work hard.”

Aelin wasn’t so sure of that.  Really, she was convinced the only reason Rowan didn’t kick her off the ranch was because there were no other options for therapists to come out into the area.  It had only taken half a day for Rowan to call her in for an interview when she’d first applied.  The job offer came the next day.

“Whatever you say,” Aelin said. “You want to help me piss him off even more?”

Sellene sighed. “I would love to, unfortunately I am going to be headed out to visit Endymion during his break.  It’s harder for him to leave his job.”

Aelin shouldn’t have been surprised.  In the few months she’d been a part of the homestead she’d learned quickly that the Whitethorn cousins were a tight knit group.  Still, it would have been fun to pit Sellene against Rowan at least for a little bit.

“That’ll be fun,” she said.  “I’m sure he misses you.”

“Oh, I plan on embarrassing him to no end,” Sellene replied seriously. “He’s eighteen and thinks he’s the smartest person alive.  The boy’s gotta learn some humility.”

Aelin snorted a laugh.  Honestly, it was the same thing her own cousin would have said about her. 

Sellene shut down her computer sighed. “But I am going to miss this place.  It’s always the best being here during the holidays.  It’ll be weird not to see it all.”

It was a strange sentiment to share and Aelin didn’t quite know how to respond.  But she didn’t have time to ask about it.  It was already getting late in the day and she needed to call Elide to enlist her help.  And then tell Lysandra to send a deposit Rowan’s direction.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Aelin said, she’d have time to get more information from Sellene later.

“Yeah, good luck, Aelin,” Sellene said, smiling softly.

Aelin offered a wave before she hurried out of the house, phone in hand.  

It only rang once before Elide answered.

“Elide?” she asked. “I need your help.”

…

For some reason, Rowan had thought that Aelin wouldn’t succeed in meeting the three conditions he’d set out for her.  Because, really, how would she be able to convince Lorcan of all people to work over time?

He supposed this was his first lesson in not underestimating her because not half an hour after Aelin left his office the morning, he’d approved the project then he got a call from one Lysandra Cavarre asking for routing information that she could send money to.

By the end of the day, he’d gotten a text from Lorcan.

Your girlfriend’s a menace.

Rowan had stared at the message for entirely too long.

Not my girlfriend.

Lorcan’s brief response said more than anything else could: right.

The brief exchange caught Rowan off guard.  Not only for the fact that Lorcan didn’t insult Aelin, but the mere idea of calling her his girlfriend.  She was the bane of his existence.  In the entirety of her time on the ranch she’d demanded change, created chaos, and riled him up with all her little remarks.

Aelin Galathynius sought to drive him insane.  Even when he tried to return the favor, nothing he did seemed enough to deter her.  She only rose to the challenge.  He guessed he could respect her for that.

Three days after striking the deal with Aelin, Rowan woke early, as he usually did, and headed to the stables.  They still had two weeks of preparation before the holidays but there was still plenty to do.  

Rowan dressed quickly before heading to the kitchen where Sellene had left a smoothie and protein bar in the fridge for him.  When there were kids or other guests staying in the cabins, there was a bigger fanfare made for breakfast.  For now, this was usually what he got.  He’d much prefer making his own food, but he always appreciated the effort from Sellene.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl as well and headed out to his truck.  It was barely four-thirty in the morning but that was the life he’d set out for himself.  He’d barely made it down the deck stairs when he noticed the other car sitting in the drive next to his.

Aelin was leaning against the side of her tiny car, wearing a large flannel and jeans tucked into a pair of boots.  In her hands she held two thermoses.  

“What?” She called out to him. “Did you sleep in?”

Rowan crossed the yard toward her. “The sun isn’t even up.”

“Yeah, I hate it.” She took a long sip from one of the thermos’ before thrusting the other at him. “Here.  Black like your soul.”

Rowan stared at the thermos for a minute before he accepted it. “Thanks?”

The morning was dark, not even the horizon had started lighting, yet Rowan could still see the amusement playing in Aelin’s eyes as she watched him.  Her hair hung in a long braid over one shoulder, a few tendrils escaped around her temples.  She didn’t wear any makeup and still there was something so striking about the way she looked.

“It’s not poisoned,” she prompted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a sip of the coffee.  It was strong and bitter, just as he liked.

“You said I’d need to help pick up the slack,” she said, following him as he walked to his truck. “So here I am.”

If he were being honest, Rowan was surprised.  Aelin had never stuck him as the type to do manual labor.  Or really work for that matter.  Her wealth and status had been obvious the first time he’d met her.  Then there was the car, the designer clothes, the manicures.  When he’d hired her, all he’d received were glowing referrals.  Another surprise.  Even now he was still trying to reconcile his initial impressions of her to who she really was.

“Here you are,” Rowan agreed.  He gave her another once over, unable to help but notice the curve of her hips beneath the open flannel.  Dammit.

Shaking his head, he unlocked the truck.  He could practically hear his mother yelling at him for not opening Aelin’s door for her, but his hands were full.  Besides, Aelin didn’t seem to notice.  She hopped up into the front seat.  Her movements were graceful and easy as though she’d done so a hundred times before.

Rowan settled into his own seat and started the truck up.  There was a small layer of frost on the windshield waiting for them.  His least favorite part of the day was waiting for the heater to get into gear and finally warm up.

“Are you always up so early?” Aelin asked suddenly.  She was huddled in her seat, staving off the chill which was the only thing about the early hour that seemed to be bothering her.

“Yeah,” Rowan said. “Unless Lorcan’s going to be in early.  But I told him to take the later shift until he comes in for your event.”

Aelin hummed at that as she took a long sip of her own coffee. “Interesting.  You should get more sleep.  It’s good for you.”

“I’m in the wrong business for that, princess,” he muttered.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said.  She cut him a glare, her lip curling slightly.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because.”  Another sip of her coffee.

Rowan said nothing and tried clearing the windshield.  It cleared well enough.  He at least wouldn’t be out on the open road, so a few skiffs of remaining ice weren’t the end of the world.  Putting the truck in gear, he backed up a bit before turning.

“Are you always such a morning person?” he asked as they headed down the long drive.

“Hell no.” Aelin made a face. “If I had it my way I wouldn’t get out of bed until noon.  This is my second round of coffee.  Do you have any idea how much I am not looking forward to today?  It’s going to be miserable.  The worst.  I hate mornings.”

She spoke with such vehemence that Rowan wondered if there really was a way for morning to be such a real entity for someone to hate.  It was also amusing, especially the way her nose crinkled in disgust.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can’t hate that.”

“It’s pitch black and I can see my breath,” she deadpanned.  Sighing she adjusted in her seat. “C’mon, buzzard, you wouldn’t rather be in bed still?  All warm and snuggled up?”

“No,” he said.

Aelin chuckled in that nonsense sort of way she had. “Hmm, right.  Even you have to admit a lazy morning in is fun.  With the right company.”

Rowan stared staunchly forward.  Though, he could still see that insufferable grin of Aelin’s out of the corner of his eye. 

“Ignoring me now?” she pressed.

The sight of the stables had never been more glorious.

“No, you’re just impossible.”

“Thank-you.”

Rowan parked the truck in its usual spot and tried hard not to smile.  He settled with an eye roll.

“Let’s go buzzard,” Aelin said.  She threw the door open and hopped out of the truck. “Show me the ropes.”

If there was one thing Rowan knew to be true—it was going to be a long day.  Though as he clambered out of the truck himself, the thought didn’t seem as heavy as it once may have been.

…

In the end, the day wasn’t bad.  In fact, things ran far smoother than Rowan had been expecting.  He’d thought that by having Aelin shadowing him things would go a lot slower and he’d have trouble getting everything done, but she was a ready student.

She handled feed buckets with ease, tied perfect knots on the first try, she even mucked stalls without complaint.  If Rowan didn’t know any better, he’d have said she’d spent time in a barn before.  A lot of time.  She seemed to know her way around the equipment, knew the terms, and sometimes reacted before he even needed to give instruction.

When he tried to ask her about it, she told him he was insane.  

It wasn’t the first time someone had lied to him, but he figured it wasn’t worth trying to needle the information out of her.

The routine continued for the rest of the week.  Aelin would be at the ranch first thing in the morning with coffee and they’d work all day together until dinner when they’d return to the main house.  

“You know you still have a room in the house, right?” Rowan asked one morning. “You don’t have to do this back and forth.”

“Oh,” Aelin looked out her window as they passed familiar pastures. “I guess…I figured you wouldn’t want me there?  Sellene’s gone and all, why not have the place to yourself?”

It was true, Rowan often enjoyed his time alone unless he went into town to have a drink with Lorcan, Fenrys, and Connall.  A recluse, Aelin had called him on occasion.

The strange thing about it was…Rowan didn’t think he would have minded Aelin being around more.  She drove him mad, more often than not, but even in the last few weeks (days really) there had been a subtle shift.  One that he didn’t know how to identify.

“Your friend is coming with the new group of kids, right?” Shifting the conversation seemed the safer option so he didn’t hesitate.

“She and her husband,” Aelin agreed, he didn’t miss the look she gave him. “They were planning on staying at the house, if that’s still alright?”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of space,” Rowan said.  The house was enormous with five separate rooms and four bathrooms.  His great-grandfather had always wanted a home to welcome as many guests as possible so new additions were added on continuously in the early years.  His own parents had hoped to keep the house full of children.  In the end, it was only Rowan who waged war upon the floorboards.

Aelin nodded absently, her fingers drumming on her thermos absently. “I’ll come up with them and stay the week before and during.”

“Alright,” Rowan said.  The drive to the stables that morning was the same as ever with only another light dusting of snow falling from the sky.  As late December encroached, it wouldn’t surprise him if they were due for a storm.

“They’ll be coming tomorrow, I think,” Aelin said, “Lys and Aedion.”

Rowan started. “Aedion Ashryver?”

In her seat, Aelin visibly flinched.  She covered it almost seamlessly as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sat up a little straighter.

“He’s an ass,” Aelin told him. “Though, very good looking.”

Rowan could only stare.  The Ashryvers were practically celebrities in the world of horses and ranch work.  Evalin and her sister Andra made waves when they were young for their work in showing horses, not just in contemporary riding, but racing, and rodeo.  They’d set a standard for those that would come after as they changed the equestrian world for years to come.

He didn’t know much of what had happened to either woman after they’d aged out.  Only that they continued to run a ranch out in the countryside of Terrasen for breeding and training.  He knew there had been a scandal of some sort five or six years ago involving a rider and a trainer, but the story evaded him.

When they got to the stables, Lorcan’s own truck was already there and he’d turned on the floodlights to help beckon in the rising dawn.  They were still a week out from when the Christmas group of kids would come, so Lorcan shouldn’t have even been there.

Rowan glanced at Aelin who didn’t seem the least bit surprised at the sight.

“How did you get him to agree to this?” Rowan asked.

“I can be very convincing,” Aelin replied simply. “And Elide.”

Not sure he wanted to know the full details in that, Rowan let the rest of the conversation drop.

As always, Lorcan remained in his quiet way.  He went about his usual duties without comment, only nodding in acknowledgment as Rowan and Aelin entered the stables.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in?” Rowan asked.  He rested his keys on the rack beside the doors, not yet ready to take off his coat to the morning chill.

“Couldn’t,” Lorcan replied with a shrug.  He nodded to Aelin. “Regretting your choices yet?”

“Nope.”  Aelin smiled brightly.  She took a long sip of her coffee and went to the row of shelves reserved for personal items.  

Lorcan shot Rowan a look that he ignored.  They’d had plenty of conversations about Aelin and the week she had planned for the holiday.  Besides, if Lorcan couldn’t say no to Aelin (even if Elide wasn’t a factor) they were both idiots.

Knowing better than to try and tease Lorcan about how quickly he’d fallen for Elide, he crossed the stables to where his friend was working on preparing some equipment.

“What’ve you already taken care of?” He and Aelin had gotten a slightly late start for the day--a mix of him waking up late and the frost and Aelin needing to steal breakfast from him. 

“Not much,” Lorcan admitted, “everything’s pretty much good.  The vet’s coming around for check-ups this afternoon.”

“Do you know how the cabins are looking?”

Lorcan shrugged. “Probably about the same as when the last group left.”

That shouldn’t have surprised him. “We’ll go take a look then come back to help prep for the vet visit.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said.  He glanced to where Aelin was kneeling before the ranch pig, dubbed Ex because it had been Endymion’s turn to pick a name.  The finalists of names fell between Frank and Excali-wilbur and Endymion did not disappoint.  “Have you told her yet?”

Rowan scowled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said, scraping off a bit of dirt from an old bridle set. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The words sat heavy with Rowan the rest of the day.  He knew that Lorcan just liked screwing with him on occasion.  But there was also a part of him that worried if there was truth to Lorcan’s ominous words.  He really didn’t see what it mattered though--whether he was going to sell the ranch or not was his own business.

He really didn’t see what the difference was if he continued to owned the ranch or not.  Sellene and Endymion hadn’t expressed any in taking the land over for themselves and they were the only living relatives Rowan knew about.  Theirs were the only opinions that mattered.

Still, by the time he and Aelin finished getting the cabins ready for the guests in the coming weeks, he couldn’t help but feel a niggling sense of guilt.  He kept tamping it down of course.

It wasn’t until mid-day that the vet came around that Rowan was finally able to turn his thoughts in different directions.  They had two pregnant mares in the stables that year which was the biggest concern Rowan had.  They’d both foaled before but there was still plenty of room for things to go wrong.  Besides them, there were six other horses to be looked over.  It was usually a two-day affair, especially when weather got a little dodgy, but the vet seemed confident they’d finish up by the end of the day.

While the vet was in with Farasha, Rowan realized he hadn’t seen Aelin for a bit.  He might have had his misgivings about her, but she’d proven herself to be responsible and attentive in all her recent duties.  Even if she didn’t like horses.

Rowan glanced around the main floor of the stables before heading to the back stalls where the two pregnant mare’s were settled.  It was the warmest part of the large barn with the largest stalls.  His boots scuffed in a bit of hay as he went and he almost missed the soft voice talking to the horses.

Diana and Hessina, thankfully got along alright.  Sometimes pregnant mares could get a little feisty with each other, but the two had been inseparable when they’d been born the same season almost six years ago now.  Rowan remembered the day.

He stopped just outside Hessina’s stall and what he saw made him question just about everything he thought he knew.

Standing in Hessina’s stall with a set of brushes and other items was Aelin.  She carefully ran a curry brush over Hessina’s coat in methodic movements.  All the while she continued to talk softly to the mare.

“Alright, mama,” Aelin said, “let’s get you cleaned up.  You deserve it don’t you?  Especially before baby gets here, huh?  Look at you so pretty standing here for me.”

For a minute, Rowan thought he’d wandered into an alternate reality.  In all the months of her being on the ranch, Aelin had never approached one of the horses so willingly.  She’d kept her distance from the barn and the animals beside the pig and the goats.  He’d never have expected her to spend time with any of the horses, let alone grooming them.  And doing so with obvious practice and ease.

“I thought you hated horses?” he found himself saying.

Aelin froze.  It was the first time he’d ever caught her off guard.

“I never said that,” she replied.  She traded out brushes and ran a shedding blade over Hessina next. 

“You’ve never spent more than a minute with any of the horses in all the time you’ve been here,” Rowan said.

He entered the stall and grabbed a brush to use on Hessina’s mane.  Somehow, no matter what he or any of the stable hands tried, the long hair always got tangled even if they were careful to brush it the day before.

“That doesn’t mean I hate them,” Aelin said.  Her voice was soft, lilting in that way she’d used when she was addressing Hessina specifically. “Not when they’re such pretty girls.”

Her long fingers ran over Hessina’s sides, pausing over the swell of the mare’s belly.  It seemed as though she knew exactly how to handle a horse.  Or at least where to massage a pregnant mare’s muscles effectively or how to run a flat brush over the coat to leave it gleaming.  Truth be told, he’d never seen Hessina looked as relaxed as she did now under Aelin’s ministrations.  No matter what Aelin said, she was a natural.

Rowan tugged at Hessina’s mane with as much care as he could.  But he noted the twitch of her ears.

“Sorry,” he murmured, knowing he’d pulled too hard.  He glanced back to Aelin. “Seriously, you’ve never spent this much time with the horses before.  You know how to care for them.  And you can make a decent knot.  I thought you were a city girl?”

Aelin shrugged, walking to Hessina’s other side. “I am a city girl.”

“No.” Rowan shook his head. “There’s more to you than that.”

They stood across from each other now, more or less.  And Aelin wouldn’t meet his gaze as she brushed out Hessina’s other side.  Her lips thinned and Rowan knew she was thinking deeply on something.  

“I used to read all the horse books I could,” she finally said, “made my mom buy them all for me.  I had a whole bookshelf devoted to them.  And then I grew up.”

Her hands paused, fingers grazing over a few stray bits of Hessina’s mane.  A stray thought took her mind far away from that place.  Far enough that she stopped brushing entirely.  Hessina took offense to that and nickered, dipping her head back towards Aelin.

Chuckling, Aelin reached out and scratched the mare’s nose before she continued brushing.

“What about you, Whitethorn,” she asked, blue eyes sparking with delight as she finally looked at him. “Were you always in a horse boy phase or did it come suddenly?”

He rolled his eyes. “I grew up on this ranch, it’s all I know.”

Aelin paused at his words.  She looked as though she wanted to something, but the words were lost on her.  Instead, she shook her head and nodded at his work.

“You’re making that worse, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said defensively.

No matter what he said though, Aelin came over to take a look at the work he was doing on the mane.

“A girl’s pride is in her hair,” she said, whether to him or Hessina, Rowan had no idea.  

He could only watch as Aelin took over detangling and brushing.  Her hands were soft as she tugged and brushed.  Occasionally she would murmur something and give the mare an affectionate pat on the neck.

What he didn’t notice was how close he and Aelin were standing, not at first.  But the second he realized it; it was all he could think about.  He could feel the warmth radiating off of her and he could still smell the lemon verbena of her shampoo in her hair.  Even with the bit of sweat and dirt that lingered on her skin.

There was something about watching the methodical way she worked that was mesmerizing.  Nothing seemed to frustrate her as she went even when something didn’t detangle immediately or if she had to make a bigger mess in order to get things right.  She would only hum under her breath and continue.

“Do you—” she began to speak and spun almost directly into him.  She made a small noise of surprise and stumbled just a bit before Rowan reached out to steady her.  “Hell.  Sorry.”

She blinked up at him with those bright blue eyes and he noticed a ring of gold around the pupils adding to that light that always seemed to illuminate her.

Gripping her arms, he waited until she regained her footing before slowly pulling away.

“You good?”

Aelin nodded; mouth parted slightly as though she were about to say something.

The illusion shattered when Lorcan called out from the main stable.

“Whitethorn, get out here!”

It was probably better that way—for Rowan to leave Aelin there.  She turned back to Hessina and kept talking with those soft words and gentle inflections.  Whatever spell had been over them was long gone.  Though that was for the better.  Rowan didn’t need to get close to Aelin.  Not now.

So, he tried to forget about the last ten minutes and went to help Lorcan with whatever it was he needed.

…

When she was eighteen, Aelin had her first serious crush.

It was different than all the other little sparks she’d ever gotten before.  It was different, new, and completely reckless.  Oh, she’d never acted on it, not exactly.  And maybe it was better that way.  Because in the coming year (and several years after) Aelin would come to realize that boys, men, would never treat her well.  Especially not the ones that had country written into their bones.

So when she came to Whitethorn ranch at the beginning of the summer, she’d told herself it was for the experience.  It was for the work she loved.  It was for the kids who needed help.

And then there was Rowan.

They’d clashed the entirety of their working relationship and Aelin really didn’t know how she’d lasted as long as she did.  And here she was now, on the brink December and the New Year right around the corner.  

She sighed and straightened the small room designated for her at the main house.  Rowan had let her off for the two days leading up to the main camp days when Lysandra and Aedion would be arriving.  

The room was the next biggest aside from the master suite that Rowan slept in.  With its own bathroom and the large window that overlooked the back western side of the ranch with the mountains in the distance—Aelin loved it.

It was already decorated with a few things of the Whitethorn family.  A few black and white photos from the early days, hand embroidery frames, and a few porcelain figures in the inlaid shelving.  It was simple and homey and for whatever reason, Aelin didn’t feel the need to change anything.  Except for the piles of books and a few pictures of her own family.

As she straightened things up, and prepared the bedroom across the hall for Lys and Aedion, she couldn’t help but think of the last few days with Rowan.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but they hadn’t killed each other.  There weren’t even any attempts.  Sure, their words held just as many barbs as before, but it felt different.  Or maybe she was just hoping there was something different.  

For as much as she complained about how small Oakwald was and how difficult working on the ranch and the therapy work here was--she wanted to make this home.  She wanted this to be a place she could put down roots.  Here, no one knew her past.  No one knew who her family was.  No one knew every little detail about who she was other than simple being Aelin.

Her phone started ringing at the same time a series of honks echoed from the front of the house.  Grinning, Aelin answered the phone already knowing who was on the other line.

“Are you here?” she demanded.

“Bitch, what do you think?” Lysandra said on the other line.  In the background Aelin could hear Aedion: stop honking the horn, Lys.  She knows.

“I’ll be down in a second,” Aelin chuckled.

She flew from her room and down the stairs of the house.  She barely bothered with the slippers waiting by the front door before she threw the front door open.

The SUV hadn’t even come to a full stop before the passenger door opened and Lysandra got out.  Her long dark hair hung loose and she wore a simple gray sweater and jeans.  She screamed when she saw Aelin and ran across the yard toward her.

Aelin met her halfway, pulling her friend into a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Lysandra was saying as she continued to hug Aelin. “It’s been so boring without you.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone with Aedion,” Aelin teased.  She pulled back, grinning.

Aedion huffed as he came around the SUV.  His blond hair, so similar to Aelin’s, long enough to just barely fit into a low tie, his handsome features slightly distorted with a scowl.

“I love you too, Aelin,” he said, trying and failing to hold his disapproving look.

Aelin launched herself at her cousin.  It had been a while since they’d seen each other between work and distance.  But she was grateful he had chosen to come and help both her and Lys.

“You do love me,” she insisted, “I introduced you to your wife, after all.”

Aedion pulled back with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I’m forever in your debt.”

“I know,” Aelin said seriously.  She then turned and linked arms with Lysandra. “C’mon, I’ve got a room ready for you.”

Her friend didn’t immediately follow through, instead turning in the cold morning air, taking in the sweeping blue skies and acres and acres of land surrounding them.

“Seriously, Aelin, where are we?  This feels like a step out of time.”

She’d thought the same thing when first arriving. “It’s better in summer and you're not freezing your butt off.”

Indeed, during the winter the sun could be out and bright and happy like it was now, but it was still cold enough to want to literally crawl into a fireplace and never come back out like some sort of dragon.  

Aedion offered to get the bags, letting Aelin and Lysandra head up to the house.

“So,” Lysandra said as they went to the kitchen. “Where’s Rowan?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “He’s at the stables finishing things up.”

“But he’ll be here later?” Lysandra pressed; one brow raised.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been sleeping under the same roof and nothing’s happened?” Lysandra scoffed and accepted a proffered glass of water.

“Please, Lys, he’s my boss.  And an ass.” Aelin turned to find snacks or something else to offer while her cheeks flushed at Lysandra’s words.

“Mm-hm,” Lysandra hummed with obvious doubt.  “I’ve looked him up, he’s hot.”

“Lysandra!” Aelin spun on her friend who let out a cackle. 

“You should see your face,” Lysandra laughed. “You know I’m right.”

“He’s made my life miserable,” Aelin said, “and, like I said, he’s an ass.”

“Right.”  Lysandra merely sipped her water and sighed. “You keep saying that.”

Much to Aelin’s appreciation, Aedion entered the house, bags in hand.  She left Lysandra in the kitchen and showed Aedion to the room she’d set up for the two of them.  It was the one room just a little more isolated than the others, but that just made it feel a little cozier.  Which she didn’t think they’d mind.

From there, the rest of the day was relatively nice.  Even with Lysandra’s continued teasing about Rowan.  Thankfully, she kept most of it up when Aedion wasn’t around.

Aelin gave them a tour of the house and immediate grounds before heading out to the cabins reserved for the kids that would be arriving in the next several days.

She and Lysandra were able to go over the various activities and group sessions and plan out where each would take place and how transport would work.  Thankfully, the main house was a good central point and should the weather stay nice, walking wouldn’t be an issue.

“There’s supposed to be a storm,” Aelin said at one point, “but they’ve been saying it would happen for two weeks now, and nothing.  I think it’ll just hit Denver and move on.”

That was the hope.  But Aelin wouldn’t let herself worry about a snow storm right now.  They had a contingency plan in place, but the weather had been cooperating thus far that she doubted it would be an issue.

Later that night as they were fixing dinner, Aedion broke out his excellent cooking skills with a chicken and vegetable skillet, Rowan finally returned home. 

“Welcome back, Buzzard!” Aelin called when she heard the door open and shut.  She also heard the way he paused while trying to decide if he could get out of being social. “We just made dinner, come join us.”

Lysandra shot her a look, but Aelin ignored it.  Instead, she got an extra plate ready as Rowan slowly trudged into the kitchen.

“This is Lysandra and Aedion,” Aelin said, “Lys founded the group that we’re hosting next week.  And her husband, Aedion, is the muscle.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t mention that Aedion was her cousin, but the admission just felt off.  Aelin had spent so long distancing herself from her mother’s name and the attention that it got that it just felt natural not to bring it up.  Besides, that wasn’t the point of this visit or the event they’d worked so hard on.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Rowan said, he didn’t smile, but Aelin supposed him joining them all for dinner was good enough.

“We’re just running through the week,” Aelin said.  She handed him his plate which he accepted. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about with the itinerary I gave you?”

Rowan didn’t answer immediately.  He settled in his seat next to her and took a bite of his food, thinking.  Or just avoiding talking.

“Nah,” he said after a minute. “Everything looks fine.  There’s going to be ten kids in total?”

“Maybe eight,” Lysandra spoke up, “it’s a little hard to get exact numbers right now.  Some kids are being shuffled so close to the holidays and their guardians are being…difficult.” She made a disgruntled sort of face. “But I know for sure eight of them are ready to go.  The other two we’re waiting on some consent forms.”

It wasn’t anything surprising to Aelin. But they would make the best of it and hopefully all the kids they’d planned for would come.

“There’s plenty of room no matter who chooses to come,” Rowan said, “so that’s not a problem.”

“You said you’re not going to be around on the Friday after Christmas though, right?” Aelin asked.  He hadn’t told her why or what he was doing, just that there was business on the ranch that needed taking care of.  She thought better than asking for more details especially when he was so guarded about the affair in general.

Rowan paused for a heartbeat in his ravenous eating and Aelin almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way his eyes skirted to hers and dipped away just as quickly.

“I’ve got a meeting planned most of the day,” he said, “but if anything goes wrong—”

“They’ll be fine.” Aedion spoke up with a wave of his hand. “If there’s anyone who knows how to embrace chaos to her advantage it’s Aelin.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, passing the water pitcher around the table. “I stole my dad’s truck once and it worked out fine.”

“I’m talking about the time you set off all those fireworks and nearly set the house on fire, but thanks for proving my point.”  Aedion grinned at her glare.

Rowan only shook his head from beside her. “What the hell kind of childhood did you have?”

“Normal, perfectly normal.” Aelin said.  Desperate to keep the conversation moving and away from any revelation of how she and Aedion were related, she kept talking.  “Besides, none of that will be happening this week.  I didn’t have time to find any fireworks.”

“Please,” Lysandra said, “you don’t even try not to cause problems.  Remember in college you stole that frats keg?”

“Because Archer Finn plagiarized my report on Edgar Allen--you know, he was an ass that’s all that matters.” Aelin had done a lot of questionable things in the name of justice.  But stealing that keg was damn near the top of the list considering the fact she nabbed it in the middle of the biggest party of the semester.  Truly remarkable. “So it was less of a problem and more karma calling his name.”

“So,” Rowan said, glancing over at her, “you really have been a menace all these years?”

She should have been affronted by his teasing but with the way he was actually smiling with amusement burning in his eyes and the levity of the night—Aelin found she couldn’t be mad.  Because here, for this small moment, Aelin wasn’t scared about what the future might hold.

…

Despite the teasing of her cousin and Lysandra, Aelin really did exist best in chaos.  She wasn’t at all intimidated when the week officially started for the outreach program.  She didn’t even have panicked stress dreams about it either.  Everything had been planned out in detail.  It was going to be a success.

And everything her friends had done to help make it possible just warmed Aelin all the more.  Between all that Lysandra and Aedion did on their end, to Elide volunteering her days when she wasn’t needed at the bar, and Lorcan willfully helping out (through whatever bribery Elide had offered), everything started off without a hitch.

The thing about therapy that Aelin loved the most was the breakthroughs.  The understanding that came with trauma and healing.  It was often a long hard journey, but it happened.  And when you worked with kids?  It made the work all the better.

The week wouldn’t be focused on the talk therapy of it all though.  Mostly they’d be going on hikes, cooking in the main house, learning about the horses and caring for them, and then a little of the therapy side.  This week was about feeling safe and finding joy in an otherwise hard spot of life and Aelin was determined to help offer that bit of peace.

After all the kids arrived, twelve total and ranging from twelve to seventeen years old, everything continued as expected.  The kids were paired off closer to their ages into the two different cabins and it all seemed to be working for the best.

Aelin found that two of the younger kids, Evangeline and Luca, were the more hesitant of being there.  Despite Luca’s outgoing nature, Aelin could tell there was a bit of worry in his attitude as he always seemed to look to her for approval in any of the activities they did.  Evangeline always sidled over to Lysandra.  It wasn’t a strange occurrence, just one they needed to be careful with.

Though, if Aelin knew Lysandra like she did, her friend had done work with Evangeline before and was fiercely protective of her now.  

“How many s’mores can these kids eat?” Rowan asked one night.

They were having an outdoor campfire with s’mores and other treats while Elide of all people told scary stories.

“Sugar is an essential food group, buzzard,” Aelin reminded him, “especially for teens.”

They stood just a bit away from the fire pit outside two of the cabins, just far enough away to not be distracting.  It was Thursday meaning the week would officially finish out on Monday and the ranch would be able to return to its usual winter hours and day to day functions.  Aelin was a little upset by the idea, but she was sure Rowan was as giddy as he could be over the prospect.

“I thought that was just you,” Rowan said.

Aelin kicked him with the toe of her boot.  If her hands hadn’t been stuffed into the pockets of her coat, she might have flipped him off.

“Ha, ha,” she said. 

“Seriously,” Rowan continued, “I’ve seen the stash you think you’re hiding in the kitchen.”

“Chocolate is good for the soul,” Aelin sniffed, “and I recommend the occasional indulgence as a therapist.”

Rowan shook his head, looking out over the fields behind them.  A ghost of a smile fell across his lips and even in the flickering shadows of the fire, Aelin thought it was the most beautiful sight.

“Occasional indulgence, sure,” he murmured. 

“We can’t all love kale as much as you do,” Aelin said.  She’d seen what he came home with from the store.  Kale and zucchini and any myriad of health foods.

He only smiled at her and Aelin felt it like a punch to the gut.  She had no idea what had happened in the last few weeks, but somewhere along the way the loathing had simmered away to…appreciation?  Admiration?  Whatever the feeling was, she didn’t know where it came from, but it was here all the same.

“Thank-you for agreeing to this Rowan,” she said, before she could lose her nerve. “For agreeing to let us host this week and letting these kids come here.  I know it’s not the most convenient thing.  But I know it means a lot to them.”

And me, she added silently.

His smile fell just a touch. “Aelin—”

Whatever else he was about to say was swallowed up by Lysandra announcing it was time to head off to bed.  The quiet contentment of the night disbanded as the kids all voiced their complaints and pleads for another story.  Apparently Elide’s tales about bloodthirsty witches were all the rage.

But it was well nearing eleven and they’d all been up late enough as it was and Aelin herself was exhausted.  They rounded everybody up and had them filter off to their cabins.  Elide and Lorcan would serve as chaperones that night, giving Lysandra and Aedion a break.

Hopefully it would put a stop to a small issue growing between Luca and one of the other boys, Aelin didn’t know all the details as Luca refused to talk further about it, but she was worried nonetheless.  And even if she wasn’t sure about the idea of Lorcan as a chaperone, Rowan assured her that he was surprisingly good with kids.  Aelin decided she would trust Rowan on that front, and let the issue slide.  For now.

…

Friday dawned dark and chilly.  The sky was full of gray clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see.  It made Aelin feel boxed in even if there was still just as much open air as before.  But those clouds hung low and didn’t budge.

She tried to not let it bother her, it was bound to happen eventually.  And in this area the weather was always changing.  By the afternoon there would be a break in the clouds and the sun would return.  Or else they’d just get a light skiff of snow.

The day was being treated as a small rest day, of sorts.  The kids had helped cook breakfast for everyone, played a few games outside, and they were now headed out to the stables to help build a shed for the goats.  

It was less of build and more of a supervision.  If the kids wanted to help they could, if not, Aelin had it on good authority the goats enjoyed chasing people as a game.  Plus, one of the stable hands that had volunteered to help out was a master sling-shot expert and could take the kids to the side of the barn to practice their skills (on non-living targets).  

They got to the stables just after lunch and clean-up.  This was going to fill most of the rest of the day and then lead into a few individual sessions with the kids.  No one had mentioned that it was Christmas or anything of the sort and none of the kids seemed to be having any major issues.  But Aelin wanted to have a chance to talk with them and see if this week had helped them at all.  From what she could tell it hadn’t done any irreparable damage, but kids could be excellent at masking their emotions if they really wanted to.

As the building commenced, Aelin took note of Rowan’s truck outside the stables in its usual spot.  Beside it was another car, a Tesla of all things.  She’d thought Rowan was supposed to be in a business meeting, not at the stables.

She made sure the kids were all occupied doing what they were supposed to, or at least just having fun, before she walked over to where Lorcan was exchanging water for one of the troughs.

“Is Rowan here today?” she asked without preamble.

Lorcan raised a brow and leaned against the fence, balancing the empty blue water barrel beside him.  “What?”

“Rowan,” she said, gesturing to his truck. “I didn’t think he would be on the property today.”

Looking away from her, Lorcan ran a hand over his jaw.  It was obvious he was trying to decide what to say exactly and that made trepidation rise in Aelin’s throat.

“He’s here, I can’t tell you more than that though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Lorcan said, pushing off of the fence, “that you can talk to Rowan about it.”

He walked away then, leaving Aelin to mull over the words that she already didn’t like.  She watched him trek back to the stables and a part of her expected to see Rowan walking out as though waiting for that exact moment.

It was foolish, she knew.  Whatever worry was gnawing at her gut was unfounded and she didn’t need to get caught up on this.

Aelin forced herself back to where the kids were helping out with nails and plywood, a few had wandered off to stack crates together which the goats started climbing on with ease.  She came to a stop beside Lysandra, stuffing her hands into her coat against another stiff breeze.  The air smelled cold, if that could even be a scent.  But she didn’t know how else to describe that stiff, clean sterility.

“What’s up?” Lysandra asked, leaning into her.

“Nothing,” Aelin replied, glancing one more time at the stables.  “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Lysandra didn’t look convinced.  She remained quiet though as she returned her attention out to the paddock of goats and kids.

Aelin did her best to try and pay attention to the kids and offer encouragement and commentary where needed, but her mind was elsewhere.  Which, she knew was stupid.  She shouldn’t be thinking about Rowan and what was going on with him and his “business meeting” if that’s what was really going on.  And she shouldn’t even care whether or not it was for business.  Right?

A part of her did care though.  A part of her wondered what his meeting was about and why he hadn’t gone into detail about it with her.  She knew they weren’t technically business partners, but she did a lot of work for him all the same.  And the things that she did were specific to the business and therapy modem that Whitethorn ranch was known for.  Shouldn’t she be at least a little involved?

Half an hour later, Aelin had almost completely distracted herself until she heard the sound of Rowan’s low voice.  She spun towards it, already knowing what she would say to him.  But the second she turned it wasn’t Rowan that caught her attention.  It was the well-dressed man walking beside him.

Aelin felt her entire body seize up as a cold numbness swept through her.  Static crackled in her ears and her mouth went dry.

Because there beside Rowan was the man who had ruined Aelin’s life.

With auburn hair hanging loose around his face and gray suit that never seemed to wrinkle or stain--Arobynn Hamel looked the same as the day Aelin last saw him.  She still hadn’t been released from the hospital after the accident, still unsure if she’d be able to walk again, and still unsure what her life would look like.  But she’d held on to hope.  She’d held on long enough for him to come and place blame directly on her shoulders before sauntering away as though he couldn’t have cared less about what happened to her.

She’d been nineteen then.  Nineteen and convinced that he was supposed to be the answer to all her problems.  That was the thing about glorifying people when you were a kid, you never understood just what a dangerous game that was.

She tried reaching out for Lysandra, but her friend had entered the goat paddock to help hold a few boards in place.  She was alone.  Alone and watching the second Arobynn saw her.  He immediately made a b-line towards her.

“Well, well,” Arobynn said as he approached.  Just as he’d always been, he had that cold arrogance about him.  It was the same sort of swagger than everyone in their circles had.  The kind of money and stature, that he was better than everyone else around him.  He had to be in his mid-thirties now.  Though, he didn’t look it.  He was just as handsome as ever. “Aelin.  What a pleasant surprise.”

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer.  Swallow and look past that perfectly charming smile he wore. “Hamel.  What are you doing here?”

Arobynn merely smiled, stretching his arms. “You don’t know?  Rowan and I are in the midst of a business deal.”

Behind Arobynn, Rowan appeared.  He looked just the same as he always did: brooding, stoic, and pissed to hell and back.  His green eyes flicked between Aelin and Arobynn, scowl deepening.

Aelin felt the pit in her stomach grow and she swore she was going to vomit.  She did her best to remain in control of her emotions as she looked at Rowan.

“What deal, Rowan?” she asked.  Though, she already knew the answer, didn't she?

“I’m buying the land,” Arobynn answered before Rowan could. “I’ve been expanding my business, didn’t you know?”

No, she didn’t.  Because Aelin had done everything in her power to avoid anything that had to do with Hamel in the last several years.  

As though sensing her distress, Arobynn flashed another sharp smile. “I look forward to working with you again, Aelin.  Just like old times, isn’t it?”

There was nothing she could say.  She couldn’t trust herself not to yell or scream or cry or any combination of the three.  That would be showing weakness.  And she was not weak.

“I’ll have my attorney look over your offer,” Rowan said quietly, drawing Hamel’s attention again. “We’ll be in contact.”

“Good,” Arobynn said, “I’d rather see this done sooner than later.  Whitethorn.”

Without any semblance of pleasantries, Arobynn left them and returned to his car.  That stupid silver Tesla that looked like a box and had no business being out on a farm.  For all Aelin cared it could go crash in a borough and get waylaid by hay and snow.  It wasn’t until the car silently pulled away and back down that Aelin felt her own voice return.

“You’re selling?” It was more of an accusation than anything.

Rowan straightened; arms still crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

“Why?” At least her voice wasn’t shaking.  At least she still sounded somewhat in control.

“Because I have to,” Rowan replied, but he looked away from her and Aelin knew that wasn’t the truth of it. “The why doesn’t even matter Aelin, you wouldn’t understand.”

A laugh escaped her.  Of course she wouldn’t.  Because she’d only been here a few short months, she wasn’t really a part of the life here or any of where the ranch had come from.  But she’d still put her blood, sweat, and tears into the ranch.  She’d wanted to see it succeed, that’s why Rowan had even hired her as a part time trauma specialist, wasn’t it?

“I know enough about this place,” she said, “it’s a staple of the community, of honest good work that no one else does, Rowan.  I know that much.  I understand that much.  That it’s helped more people get unstuck from life than just about any other program I’ve seen.”

He only shook his head, hand running through his hair.  The silver locks fell over his brow and for a moment, for one brief moment, Aelin thought she saw a part of him that she could reconcile with.  A softer allusion of the hard contours that Rowan often displayed.

“My reasons are my own,” he said firmly.  His eyes sparked with anger as he watched her. “And it doesn’t really matter beyond that. I can't keep doing this.  And--why do you even care?  It won’t even affect you that much.  Hamel’s going to keep it as a horse ranch mostly, and agrees with the work going on.  I don't think he'd change much.  He obviously likes you, so you can do whatever you want.”

Aelin couldn’t hide her flinch.  She tucked her arms around her middle more as an effort of protection and hiding than anything else. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Aelin.  You don’t need me here,” Rowan said, “this place will do well enough without me.”

“So you’re giving up?” She could only stare at him.  This wasn’t the Rowan Whitethorn she’d come to know, the one that she fought with on a daily basis.  This was someone else entirely.

“It’s none of your business, Aelin.”

“I’m a part of this ranch, aren’t I?  I’ve been here for months, and for what?”

“I never asked you to stick around.”  Rowan let out an exasperated huff. 

“He’s not a good man, Rowan,” Aelin said.  Most of the fight had gone out of her, replaced with dread and pain. “You don’t want him buying this land, your home.”

“He’s rich, what does it matter?”  Rowan pressed. “He’ll be able to do more with this place than I ever could.”

Aelin could only shake her head.  Yes, Arobynn was rich.  Rich enough that he could whatever he wanted, consequences be damned.  She tilted her head up just in time to catch a snowflake on her cheek.  The small chill was electrifying on her hot skin.  Slowly, more flakes continued to fall, fat and thick it looked like the forecast had finally chosen to be right.

“I can’t do this,” she finally said, “I’m going to check on the kids.”

She didn’t wait for Rowan to try and call her back.  She didn’t realize until she was entering the goat paddock that she had wanted him to.

…

It wasn’t until later that night as the kids were eating that Aelin had a moment to talk with Lysandra.  The snow had picked up and continued to fall throughout the afternoon driving them all inside, which after a week full of activities and being outside continually--it was a welcome break.

They were inside one of the cabins, pizza and soda spread out for the kids to enjoy.  Almost everything about the day had gone well.  If you didn’t count the Hamel matter.  The distraction and reality of what her life was spiraling towards wasn’t the best way to head into individual sessions, but Aelin had learned long ago how to compartmentalize.

Now, she was able to feel a little more relaxed as she and Lysandra were able to sit back while the kids started a terrible round of UNO.

“He’s so lucky I didn’t see him,” Lysandra said around a mouthful of pizza. “I would have kicked him in the balls then dragged his ass around from the back of a tractor, you know I would’ve.”

“I know,” Aelin assured her.

She picked at her pizza, appetite long since gone.  All she could think about was the fact that she’d seen and spoken with Hamel.  And she’d survived it.  

It was strange, being faced with a reality you thought was finally put behind you.  But that was life, wasn’t it?  You just kept learning the same lesson over and over again.  She just wondered what she was supposed to learn this time around.

“Did he say anything to Rowan?” Lysandra asked. “Does Rowan know anything?”

“I hope not,” Aelin said.  That would just be icing on the cake.  

Her past was a mess as it was.  Rehashing it and telling her side of things after someone had already been exposed to the lies of the story—well it wouldn’t do any good.

Still, Aelin didn’t want to think that Rowan knew about what had transpired.  Or if he’d think any different about her over it.  Most people did when they learned the truth and even if she was mad at him, Aelin didn’t think she could bear Rowan looking at her any different.

The story began back when she was sixteen.  Sixteen and in the throes of series equestrian training.  And she wasn’t the type to show in the dressage.  Aelin was a competitive rider in barrel racing, jumping, and the grittier events.  Her former trainer had just moved and who was to fill the position than Arobynn Hamel.

His methods were brutal and his words were cruel.  But young as she was, Aelin could only see what he could make of her.  And her parents had been none the wiser either.

Even after the drugs and borderline abuse.

Aelin shook off the memories. “It doesn’t matter if Rowan knows or not, does it?  He isn’t going to stick around.  He made that clear.”

“Are you going to stay,” Lysandra asked.  Her voice was painfully soft and Aelin had a hard time meeting her friend’s eyes.

“No.  I can’t…I can’t be around Hamel again, Lys.”  Aelin set her uneaten pizza aside. “After everything…I thought I finally had a place, you know?  That this was a good fit for me.  Even if Rowan’s an ass and doesn’t like me.  I liked the work.”

“Maybe if you talked—”

“No.” Aelin shook her head, cutting Lysandra off before she could even begin. “Rowan won’t talk it out.  He’d just sell the place faster if it meant getting rid of me.”

Lysandra sighed. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

Lysandra didn’t answer, instead waving as Elide walked through the door, leaving a blistering trail of snow outside behind her.

“I hope it’s alright to stop by,” Elide said with a smile.  She grabbed a piece of pizza and settled between Aelin and Lysandra. “Lorcan’s still finishing up at the stables.”

“Good,” Lysandra said, moving over so Elide had plenty of space. “We need to talk sense into Aelin.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, you know,” Elide replied.  She grinned all the same and nudged Aelin’s leg with her foot. “What kind of sense are we talking?”

Aelin groaned, shaking her head.  One of the counselors took a few of the kids to the other cabin to prepare for bed.  It was nearing that time where they would all turn in.  The growing storm outside made the night feel sleepy and dark.  Not that Aelin minded.  Sometimes a lazy night was just what she needed, especially when she could curl up with a book.

“Lysandra thinks I’m being too hard on Rowan for deciding to sell the ranch,” Aelin told Elide, careful about how loud she spoke.  She didn’t want to risk upsetting the remaining kids or the other counselors.

Elide’s eyes widened at the news.

“You can’t tell—” Aelin said quickly.  She shouldn’t have even told Lysandra about Rowan’s plans.  Even if Lorcan already knew about Rowan’s decision, it was just in bad form for Aelin to be gossiping out it.

“I won’t,” Elide assured her.  “I promise.”

What Aelin had done to deserve friends like Lysandra and Elide, she didn’t know.  As she tugged on the end of her braid she didn’t know where to begin.

“I know I don’t really have a hand in this ranch or can’t tell him what to do,” Aelin said, “but I’ve put so much work into it that…”

Aelin let her words trail off.  Did it really matter what she’d done?  He obviously didn’t care enough to listen to her.  She couldn’t care.  She shouldn’t.  Because in the end, she always came out alone.

She was going to tell her friends that she was fine and it didn’t matter when the shouting started from the other cabin.

--

Back at the main house, Rowan and Aedion were settling everything in for the night.  After baking four giant pizzas for the kids (delivery drivers refused to drive all the way out to the ranch and the weather had taken a bit of a chilly turn) they settled in to watch the latest football game.  

What he didn’t expect was for Aedion to strike up a conversation.  

“You know,” Aedion said as a commercial break started, “I’ve never seen a place like this ranch before, it’s pretty remarkable what you’ve done.”

Rowan really didn’t know if that was true.  All he’d done was come in after his grandparents and parents established everything for him.  The last few years it felt like he’d barely been treading water.  Until the last few months when Aelin had swept in with her binders and her plans and damned conspiratorial smile.

“I haven’t done much,” Rowan replied.  Mostly kept everything afloat as best he could. “It’s mostly been Aelin bringing things back to life.”

It really was an apt description of the woman.  She was vibrant in the way she approached everything she did.  Never did she let anything pass by that was half-hearted or untended.  Rather, she made sure it was taken care of properly.  It was probably what made the fall season so successful.  No…no probably about it, it was what made the season one of the best in several years.

“She does tend to do that, doesn't she?” Aedion laughed. “It’s annoying as hell, because then she thinks she’s always right.  Which, I mean, technically she is always right, but she can’t know that.  She’d be insufferable if we told her.”

Rowan shook his head in agreement.  Though, if he thought about it, Aelin had enough confidence that even if she were wrong about something she would make things work in the end.  She had the faith and the sheer force of will to see something accomplished that an obstacle was merely a stepping stone to what she wanted.

“So,” Rowan began, a thought occurring to him as he thought about his own understanding of Aelin. “How do you know Aelin?  I never got that story?”

That earned him an amused look from Aedion who sat up straighter.

“She’s an Ashryver, you know,” Aedion said slowly, “as in Rhoe and Evalin Ashryver Galathyinius.”

Rowan froze at the pronouncement and slowly, painful understanding washed over him. “What?”

In the chair across from him, Aedion shook his head, blond hair falling in his face.  

“Doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t know,” Aedion chuckled wryly. “She doesn’t use her mom’s name very much, considering...But yeah.  Ashryver-Galathynius.  We’re cousins, were raised together through just about anything.  I was there in all of Aelin’s training when she really got into the horse scene.  She was the national champion in racing and show three years in a row until the accident.”

Rowan could only stare blankly at Aedion.  He didn’t know how he’d missed the similarities, hell, their eyes were even the same.  Why wouldn’t Aelin say anything?  Especially when he had given her so much crap about being a city girl.  She could have shut him up without any effort.

Though, at Aedion’s mention of an accident, he remembered something vaguely happening in the world of showing and competition.  That side of the horse world was something he’d never stayed completely caught up in.  Especially not years ago when he’d been so busy with taking the ranch over.

“She was nineteen, it was going to be her fourth year in a row of winning that championship,” Aedion explained, “and she’d put herself through hell for it.  She kept herself in the best shape, hardly ate.  Was always training.  Her trainer—” a sour look flashed over Aedion’s face— “her trainer wouldn’t leave well enough alone and always pushed her further than anyone should go, not at that age.  It was never proven, but I’m pretty sure they slipped her drugs and the horse too because they were racing barrels which is Aelin’s best event and next thing you know the horse gets spooked and Aelin goes flying.”

Aedion paused, running a hand over his jaw as he stared into the fireplace. “It’s a miracle she wasn’t paralyzed.  Or worse.  Arobynn never even got a slap on the wrist for it.”

Rowan’s gut churned in a sickening way.  “Arobynn Hamel?”

The dark look in Aedion’s eyes was answer enough.

Rowan remembered all the times in the last several months of how he’d berated Aelin for her lack of knowledge on a ranch, how she shied away from the horses.  He’d accused her of so many things that he just hadn’t known about.

“She recovered eventually,” Aedion said, “but I don’t think she was ever the same.  She never got on a horse again after that.  But she volunteered a lot at various stables back in Terrasen or at those camps for kids with autism, y’know?  Kinda like what you do here.  And then she got her degree and has talked about applying for a doctorate.  Damn.  She was always going to become something.”

“I didn’t know, about her past, I mean,” Rowan murmured.  His fingers tightened on the drink in his hand, long forgotten in the conversation.

“It’s why she tends to drop her mom’s name,” Aedion said, he shot Rowan a wry smile. “She doesn’t want that to be all people associate with her.  Her parents love her, don’t get me wrong, but they always put so much pressure on her.  Rhoe and Evalin practically raised me too and I got the same treatment.  The Ashryvers aren’t known for weakness.”

If there was anything Rowan had learned in the past week, it was the truth of that sentence.  Aelin was so much more than the city girl he’d first thought her to be.  Everything she had done in her time on the ranch had been to help the kids and families that came through.  She had worked so hard to turn this place into a functioning therapy ranch and she’d done a damn good job at it.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

Not that he really owed the explanation to anyone.  Sellene was guilt-tripping him enough as it was.  But he’d found the last few months to be more bearable.  Somehow.  Impossibly.  Even with Aelin being as difficult as she was sometimes.  But that was what he liked about her.  She challenged him.  She made plans and got things done.  She was fearless.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

The one place she’d said made her feel like she was coming home.

“I need to--” Rowan began, already reaching for his phone so that he could call her.

He didn’t get far though when the front door opened with a loud thud.  Rowan was on his feet in an instant, for some reason thinking it would be Aelin.  Instead, it was Lysandra and Elide with a very distraught Evangeline.  The young girl had tears streaming down her cheeks and snow was still melting in her hair from the storm raging outside.

“What happened?” Rowan demanded, already sensing the trouble afoot.

Evangeline shrunk back into Lysandra, shaking slightly.  Rowan doubted it was from the chill.  He cursed himself for adding to the girl's distress.  If he remembered correctly, Evangeline was in between foster homes as the last place was unsuitable.  That scar on her cheek was fresh enough that Rowan could guess what unsuitable meant.

He softened his voice. “Is everyone alright?”

Evangeline squeaked, her hair falling in her face.  Behind her, Lysandra made a soothing sound as she gently brushed Evie’s hair back.  Her glare cut right into Rowan making it clear what she thought about him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Lysandra said, “you’re not in trouble.  Just tell Rowan what happened.”

Evangeline sniffed loudly and nodded. “It was Luca.  He and Derek got in a fight when we were playing a game and Luca left and I told him not to but—” Evangeline forced a shuddering breath “—but he left anyway out in the snow.  So I went and got Aelin and Lysandra.”

“Aelin went out looking for him,” Lysandra finished quietly.  She gave Evangeline’s shoulder a tight squeeze.  “But it’s turning into a blizzard out there, I don’t know how far either of them will get.  We left one of the other counselors to keep an eye on the rest of the kids.”

All Rowan could register in that moment was Aelin is out in the blizzard.  It took his remembering that they were all looking to him for answers for him to snap to attention.  He turned to Elide.

“Lorcan?” He asked.

“Finishing up in the stables,” Elide said, “he’s probably still there.  And probably let her take a horse.”

Rowan doubted that.  Even if Lorcan wasn’t fond of Aelin, he wouldn’t let her go out in this weather.

“Try calling him,” Rowan said, “see what he knows.”

When Elide nodded and stepped away, he looked back at Evangeline who was still shaking against Lysandra.

“It’s alright, Evangeline,” he said, “you did the right thing by letting us know what happened.  Are you still cold?”

“N-no,” the girl stuttered softly.

Rowan held out a hand to her anyway. “Come have a seat by the fire, I’ve got hot chocolate in the kitchen too.”

Hesitantly, Evangeline accepted his offer.  He got her settled in the chair he’d vacated and found one of the many fleece blankets Aelin had left lying around.  After wrapping her up, Aedion had his phone out and played a Disney movie to distract the girl.

The adults huddled together in the kitchen while Rowan readied the promised hot chocolate.

“Lorcan said that Aelin took off on one of the mares,” Elide said quietly.  She still held her phone to her ear, the call with Lorcan active. “He wants to know if he should go after her.”

“I’ll come out to the stables now, have him wait for me,” Rowan replied.  He pulled a freshly heated mug from the microwave and dumped in a cocoa packet.  It wasn’t the best but it’s do in a pinch.  Besides, knowing that Aelin spent so much time up here there was bound to be whipped cream in the fridge and marshmallows in a cabinet.  “I’ll ride out with him.”

Lysandra took the mug from him. “Then go.  I’ll finish this.  I don’t know about riding horses.”

Rowan looked at Aedion who shrugged.

“I mean,” the other man said, “I know how to stay on.”

“Good enough,” Rowan said.  He turned to Elide next. 

“I’ll wait at the barn with blankets and flashing lights,” she said before he could get a word out. “Now let's go, the snow is only going to get worse.”

It was more than enough to kick the rest of them into action.

After finding all the spare coats, socks, and blankets they could, they piled into Rowan’s truck and made the quick trip across the drive to the stables.  All Rowan could focus on was the snow.

It no longer fell in thick innocuous fluff, rather it had turned to tiny flecks of ice that could cut skin.  The heavy wind didn’t help anything either.  The weather had quickly dissolved from mediocre to abysmal in the span of an hour.  The snow was no longer sticking to the ground, instead billowing in icy white clouds all around them.  Any semblance of being on an actual road was lost.

Rowan tried not to let it bother him.  He tried to remind himself that Luca wouldn’t get far in this weather.  Aelin was an experienced rider…even if she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly ten years.  His gut still churned in trepidation and a mild sense of panic set his heart to racing.  It was fine.

They reached the barn to find the side door open and Lorcan’s outline waiting with two horses already geared up and ready.  

Piling from the truck, Rowan threw on his coat and grabbed the thick goose down parka for when they found Luca.  He wrapped a scarf around his face as best he could to protect from the wind.

Aedion had the same idea.  He’d also found a hand to pull down over his hair and ears.

“No,” Lorcan said as soon as he saw Elide’s smaller form emerge from around the truck. “Absolutely not.  Go back to the main house.”

Had her arms not been full of blankets and spare coats, Rowan expected Elide would have flipped her boyfriend off.

“Make me.” She gave him a look that offered no room for argument and slipped into the stables.

Lorcan turned to Rowan, fury clearly written in his face.

“She’s going to stay back and keep the lights on for when we make our way back,” Rowan told him.  “She’ll be fine.”

In any other situation, Rowan was sure Lorcan would have argued further.  Instead, he passed off the reins to Goldryn.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.  He then turned to Aedion to offer the other horse.  Rowan had no doubt a third was already saddled and bridled just inside the doors.

Rowan made no promises as to what sort of decisions he would be making.  He merely got one foot in the stirrups and hauled himself up.  They’d wasted enough time and he wanted to get out there and find both Aelin and Luca.

“Rowan!” 

He turned to see Elide running towards him.  She waved an object in one hand, a flashlight.

“Phones will be useless,” she explained. “And I can’t find any walkie-talkies.  Morse code, yeah?”

Smart.  He accepted the light and clicked it on and off again. “Thanks.”

“Just find them.” Her dark eyes were pleading but nothing else about her smaller stature betrayed any of her worry.  When Rowan nodded in assurance, she turned back to the stables.  Rowan tucked the flashlight into the front of his coat before finally turning towards the direction he thought Luca would have gone from the cabins.

As the wind picked up and sent another cloud of snow to wash over them, Rowan tensed for a moment before urging Goldryn on.  They had some ground to cover before they made it to the cabins.  But it had been at least twenty minutes since Luca had run off.  Even with the terrible weather, a determined kid on the run could do a lot of damage.

“C’mon girl,” Rowan called, nudging Goldryn into a canter.

He knew this land better than anyone.  And he wouldn’t let anything happen to Luca or Aelin if he could help it.

…

Ice cut into Aelin’s skin as she and Farasha continued through the snow.  She hadn’t thought to grab a scarf or face covering, hadn’t thought to find a thicker coat.  The best she’d grabbed was a thin lap blanket.  All she’d heard was that Luca ran off into the storm after an argument with one of the other kids.  She would have thought about strangling Luca if she weren’t so worried about him.

“Luca!” she called out, wincing at the cold wind nearly choking her own voice.

She hadn’t even let her own panic take over at the thought of riding again.  She’d saddled up the large horse in record time and told Lorcan to ready two other horses for him and Rowan to come search with her.  It hadn’t even occurred to her that Rowan may not come, may not care as much as she did.  But even if she was pissed off at him, she couldn’t imagine that he would stand idly by when a kid was caught out here in the weather.

Her fingers were stiff as she gripped the reins, grateful at least for that bit of distraction.  It had been ages since she’d been on a horse and ridden.  After breaking her back in a nasty fall and dealing with the repercussions from Hamel, she had sworn she would never get on another horse.  She had sworn she would never return to this life.  But here she was because all she wanted to do was help the kids who needed it.

She shuddered and not just from the cold.

The terrain wasn’t terrible, even with the way the rolling snow covered the ground and how dark the night had gotten.  Even in the last seven months Aelin had grown used to the land.  She’d spent hours walking, running, and just enjoying the ranch.  Between walks with the kids she worked with or helping with moving the small herd of goats from pasture to pasture—Aelin felt like she knew the ranch as well as anyone.

Yet, as the wind continued to howl and the snow beat relentlessly against her side, Aelin had the sickening feeling she was getting lost.  She fumbled for her phone and pulled up the flashlight.  It hardly made a difference, in fact, the light was swallowed up almost as soon as it left the phone.

Aelin bit her lip to keep from cursing.  She didn’t want any more cold air in her mouth finding its way down into her lungs.

How long had she been out here?  An hour?  Two?  How long would Luca last with just his pajamas and simple coat?  

Beneath her, Farasha grunted.  It would only be a matter of time before the horse had had enough and would insist on turning back.

With numb fingers, Aelin patted the horse’s neck.  They would find Luca.  They had to.

The only logical direction Luca could go from the cabins was the main house.  But if he were too embarrassed or upset, he may just go in the opposite direction.  But all there would be was darkness.  Empty and heavy.  Or…or maybe…

Aelin thought back to the first day Luca had arrived and when she’d showed him the old homestead.  It was an old cabin that Rowan’s great-grandfather had first lived in upon buying the land.  She’d told Luca the same story Rowan had told her: with hardly any money his great-grandparents made that tiny cabin a home until they could till the land and make a living come spring.  They’d survived against all odds and used it as a sign of a new beginning.

Spurring Farasha on, Aelin took off for the cabin.  Luca had been enthralled by the story, asking question after question, he even asked to visit the cabin a second and third time.  

Okay, okay, okay. It was the only thing Aelin could think that wouldn’t send her into a different sort of plummeting thoughts.  

Even as the icy wind and sharp snow continued their assault, she told herself that everything was okay.

Aelin was beginning to lose hope, letting the soul wrenching feel of dread rise up within her.  It had been too long.  There was no sign of the cabin nor of Luca.  

This was her fault.  It was all her fault.

A flicker in the distance caught her attention.  A shadow mingling with the already thickly cloying shadows and manipulations of the storm.

“Luca!” Aelin yelled.  As Farasha continued diligently on, the small old cabin came into view and there, trekking towards it was a small hunkered shape. “Luca!”

The shape stopped and Aelin heard a voice in the wind.  Hope rose within her, beating against the dread and panic.

“Hold on!”  Sensing her urgency, Farasha pressed on, though Aelin could tell it was with reluctance.  

It took several agonizing minutes to move the few yards closer to the cabin but they made it.  And there, trying desperately to reach the old cabin was Luca.

Aelin let out a string of curses as she slid off of Farasha.  She gripped the lap blanket in one hand, keeping it close as she ran to Luca.  The boy couldn’t reach out to her, his arms wrapped tight around him.  His coat was too thin for this weather, his old boots unlaced.  Aelin swore his skin was blue, not just his lips.

“A-a-aelin?” he stuttered, the sound of her name was too soft from his mouth.

Aelin threw the blanket around him.  She pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around his middle as she tried to rub warmth into his limbs.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, unable to curb her own panic.  “Luca.  Luca.  Luca.”

The boy trembled against her.  He was trying to talk, to apologize, but Aelin kept him tugged against him so tight his words were muffled.

Ice stung Aelin’s eyes as she pulled away and knelt before him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, speaking over the sound of the wind.

He nodded even as his body still shook.  Hell.  

Aelin drew Luca back against her side. “It’s going to be fine.  I’ve got Farasha and we’re going to get back to the house.  Everything’s fine.”

She wasted no time in leading Luca to the horse.  She boosted him up into the saddle, helping him scoot as far up as he could.  Aelin braced herself as she scrambled up on the horse behind him.  The motion wasn’t as smooth as it could have been.  Combined with lack of practice, cold, and, admittedly, fear, Aelin didn’t let it bother her.

Once settled, she pulled Luca against her chest and reached for the reins.

“We’re alright,” she told him.  What else could she say?  “We’re going to go back to the house and get you warmed up.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Luca chattered. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

Aelin shushed him gently. “It’s okay.  Everything’s okay.”

Luca trembled against her chest but fell quiet as he tucked his face into the blanket, she’d given him.  The wind had picked up and snow swirled around them.  Aelin squinted, trying to keep ice from pricking her eyes.  It only made tears start to well and track down her cheeks.  In a matter of seconds, she could feel her skin freeze.  Aelin dared not blink for fear of her eyes freezing shut.  Instead, she tapped her heels against Farasha’s side.

Even with the added load of Luca, the horse surged forward.  Aelin had no idea if they were headed in the right direction.  All she could do was hope that the horse had a better sense of where they were than she.  But with how dark the night had fallen and the increased snowfall, Aelin couldn’t help the panic welling within her.  She had found Luca, sure, but that was only half the problem.  

Now they had to trek back through the storm to the stables.  Aelin guided Farasha as best she could, but the sheets of snow that swirled around them certainly didn’t help.

To ease her own worry, she wrapped an arm around Luca, keeping him close.  He was still conscious, which was good.  She tried asking him questions to make sure he stayed that way but after a few rounds of feeling like her throat was freezing and Luca’s continued shudders--she stopped.  

Come on, she thought to herself.  She was strong enough to do this.  Strong enough to get Luca back safely.  Even if no one else thought much of her--she could see this through.

And then what?  She’d be out of a job.  Likely forced to move back to the city and she didn’t want that.  She didn’t want to stay here either if what Rowan said was true.

If Arobynn Hamel took over the ranch Aelin knew she couldn’t stay.  Hamel was cruel to say the least.  Vindictive, arrogant, abusive.  He had pushed Aelin beyond her limits and was the reason her life had changed forever.

She wanted to hate Rowan for what he had planned.  But how could he have known?  She never talked about her past as it was.  It wasn’t even any of his business if she did leave.

Damn him.  Damn him for giving up on this place in the first place.  And damn him for making her think that she almost had a home here.

A shiver rolled through Aelin’s body.  How could she still feel the cold?  Everything was numb at this point.  She didn’t even know how she could remain upright in the saddle, let alone hold the reins.  But the cold had settled in so deep that it was simply an extension of who she was now.

They passed by a fence post that Aelin didn’t recognize.  Or did she?  Was it the one along the easter paddock?  That meant they were near the stables right?  

The top of the post only had a thin layer of snow on top, the barbed wire extending along to the next post already had icicles forming.

As if sensing her unease, Farasha moved a little faster.  But, really, there wasn’t much the horse could do.  Not in these conditions.

Aelin tilted her face up to the sky, as though that would do anything.  All she could see was the mass of snow and ice continuing to fall.  The gray sky overhead a mass of terror and pure power.  Never had she felt so insignificant until that moment.  She was a small speck in comparison to the universe overhead.  

She dropped her head again and stared forward, willing herself to see some chance of hope.

There was nothing.  Nothing but white.  Nothing but gray.  Nothing but--

A flash of light.

Aelin straightened in the saddle and stared at where she’d seen the flash.  She hadn’t imagined it.  She couldn’t have.

There it was again!

A quick flash followed by a longer one.  The flashes continued in somewhat the same manner, like morse code.  

Aelin’s fingers were too stiff to try for her phone.  She would have dropped it before managing to get it unlocked.  All she could do was guide Farasha towards the light.  Aelin had never learned morse code beyond SOS.  But she’d been out on this land plenty of times and she knew there weren’t any strange flashing lights around.  And these flashes seemed too deliberate in any case.

It was the only reassurance she could hold on to.  That and keeping Luca in one arm.

Another few minutes passed on until Aelin could hear a voice on the wind.  She didn’t register it at first, but it was familiar.  The shout came again; long and steady.

“Luca!  Aelin!”  Their names were drawn out into multiple syllables but it was someone shouting for them.

Not just someone.  Aelin would have recognized that voice anywhere.

The flashlight beam grew stronger the closer they got and Aelin could soon make out a shape sitting astride a horse.  

“Rowan,” she whispered, more to herself than anything.  Because who else could it be. “Rowan!”

It was only a minute later that had Goldryn loping toward them with Rowan.  He still had the flashlight in one hand, beaming brightly against the night.

“Aelin!” he yelled.  He drew in close, close enough to grab her shoulder.

The flashlight helped illuminate him enough that Aelin could see the taut lines of his face, his eyes wide in panic.  The scarf around his lower face had fallen away and snow was building up in the creases.  But it was him.  He was here, staring at her like she was the greatest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“We’re fine,” she said, loud over the storm. “But we need to get Luca warmed up.”

Rowan dropped his gaze to the boy who was still pressed against Aelin’s chest.

“Let's go,” he said, “it’s not that far.”

Aelin could only nod as he turned Goldryn and led the way to the stables.  Farasha, blessedly brilliant beast that she was, followed without any prompting.  

The tightness in Aelin’s chest loosened with each step made.  They had made it.  It really was going to be alright.

Quicker than Aelin realized, the stables came into view.  Bright light from the floodlights broke through the storm and she could see the doors were cracked open just a bit.  Two other horses were by the doors being tended to.  It took Aelin several moments to realize it was Lorcan and Aedion waiting there.  They soon disappeared into the barn, taking the two horses with them.  

When Rowan and Aelin reached the stable doors, both men had returned.  Lorcan wasted not time in coming to Aelin’s side.  He grabbed Luca from the saddle, hauling the boy into his arms and taking him inside.  Aelin could only stare after.  She had no idea if she could move, let alone blink.

It wasn’t until Rowan appeared in her line of sight that she did blink, miraculously without frozen eyes.  She had no idea when he’d gotten off his horse but here he was right beside her.  He reached out, one hand going to her side as he gently tugged her off of Farasha.

She fell into him.  It was an accident, really.  But her body was still numb and she might have been in shock, but she went tumbling off of the saddle in as inelegant a dismount as could be imagined.  Rowan’s arms stayed around her, keeping them both upright.

“I got you,” he murmured into her ear.  He kept a firm hold on her as she slowly regained her balance.

Somehow, he still had warmth to share.  As he kept her tight in his grasp, Aelin could practically feel her own body leeching it off of him.  She was desperate to feel anything other than the raging cold threatening to freeze her entire body.  

Lorcan appeared in another minute and helped with Farasha, Aedion took control of Goldryn.

Rowan led Aelin into the stables that were already infinitely warmer than the storm outside.  There seated on a few bales of hay was Elide, well at work with getting Luca wrapped in a fresh blanket and tugging a hat over his head.

“You’re half frozen,” Rowan said.  He kept walking Aelin away from the opened doors of the stables.  “What the hell were you thinking?”

Aelin could only stare at him.  

The familiar scowl was in place and his brow was furrowed as he worked to get her out of her wet coat.  A thin and useless coat, he pointed out.  He replaced it by draping a thicker one over her shoulders, holding it in place when she didn’t take it herself.

All she could do was stare at him.  He had come for her.  He had gone out into that storm and came to find her.  Luca too.  But with the way he was staring at her and brushing the messy strands of hair from her face--all Aelin could really process was that he was here for her.

“You’re fussing,” she managed to whisper.

“Of course I’m fussing,” he said, incredulity spreading across his face. “Aelin, you’re freezing.”

Of course she was.  She’d spent the better part of an hour (more?) searching through a blizzard on a horse looking for Luca.  Her entire body shook with cold and a mild panic of what she’d just accomplished.

Rowan tugged the coat tighter around her as he kept talking.  But Aelin couldn’t hear what he was going on about.  A shrill ringing started in her ears blocking almost everything else out.  And then the shivers wouldn’t stop.  Her entire body was shaking and it was all she could do to stay on her own two feet before she pitched forward straight into Rowan, vision going black.

…

When Aelin woke, she found herself surrounded by a thick warmth that engulfed her.  It was far welcome from the dreams of freezing snow and wind that she’d had all night.  Grateful for the thick blankets tucked all around her, Aelin snuggled in deeper, breathing in a familiar scent of pine.

Her eyes snapped open with sudden awareness.

She wasn’t in her own bed.  

Pain lanced through her head as she tried sitting up.  The sheer weight of the blankets piled on top of her was enough to keep her down though, for at least a minute longer.

What the hell had happened?  Her body ached as though she’d run a marathon and she was certain her toes were frozen solid and—

And there had been the blizzard.  And Luca.  And she’d gotten on a horse and rose out into a blizzard to find him.

That thought alone spurred her on.  She shoved the thick quilts aside, pausing only at the patchwork of the top blanket that was a blend of greens and silvers in a pattern she couldn’t quite make out, but it was handmade.  She could tell that much.

Aelin then realized that she was in Rowan’s room.  If not for the scent of pine and the obvious splashes of green throughout the decoration, then the picture on the bedside table.  It was of a boy no more than ten with a shock of silver hair standing on a dock that overlooked a lake.  In one hand he held up a fishing line with a giant fish dangling from the hook.  Beside him was an older man, his father, who had a proud grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around the boy.  And there was another picture of a woman with tan skin and brilliant green eyes smiling down at a bundled baby in her arms.

She was in Rowan’s room.

The thought shocked her enough that she remained seated on the edge of the bed right up until the door opened.  Mind still reeling, Aelin could only watch as Rowan himself slowly stepped into the room.

He stopped immediately upon seeing her awake and sitting up.  Dressed in his usual attire of jeans and flannel she almost would have guessed she hadn’t been asleep that long.  If it hadn’t been for his disheveled hair or the stubble on his chin and cheeks.

“You should be asleep,” Rowan said.  He held a cup of water in one hand and slowly walked it over to her, setting it on the bedside table she’d just been examining.

“I was,” Aelin replied, even with the short words her voice rasped with disuse and exhaustion. 

Rowan who now stood just before her, his knees brushing hers, reached out and brushed a few messy strands of hair from her face.  His fingers were warm against her skin and the calluses rough as they scraped gently along her cheek.  The expression in his eyes held something Aelin wasn’t sure how to read.  She’d thought she’d gotten decent enough at interpreting Rowan that it unsettled her just a bit.  

Instead of the depthless sea of green she was so accustomed to, he was now guarded and hesitant.  Compared to his usual assurance and confidence--Aelin was at a loss of what to say.

“Drink this,” Rowan said, filling the silence.  He pushed the glass of water into her hands along with a few pain pills and the granola bar. “And eat.  The pills will settle better with something in your stomach.”

Aelin set the items aside. “I’m fine.”

“Aelin.”

The warning in his voice had Aelin’s hackles rising.  She set her jaw and glared right back at him.

“I’m fine.” 

They stared at each other, neither budging.  And they could sit there all day for all Aelin was concerned.  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep or of any of the other details of her passing out, but she did know she was still pissed Rowan and she would hold out for as long as--

“Please,” Rowan said, voice uncharacteristically soft, “just eat something.”

The breath stilled in Aelin’s lungs.  When had she ever heard him say please?  It was such a strange word coming from him that Aelin automatically reached for the granola bar and unwrapped it.  She took a few bites before swallowing the pain pills with some of the water.

“Happy?” she asked, placing the water back on the bedside table.

Rowan, as expected, remained silent.  When he turned aways from her, Aelin thought he was going to give her some peace and quiet, but he was only putting a little distance between them. Which was probably for the best considering Aelin was having a difficult time breathing normally when he was so close.  She would blame it on nearly getting hypothermia.  That was it.

“Do you have any idea how stupid it was for you to go out like you did?” he demanded.  He’d stepped back closer to the window, pale light filtering through the thin curtains to illuminate him enough that Aelin could better see the outlines of his face and the stiff way he held himself.

“I was trying to find Luca,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Get help,” Rowan said, “it was a blizzard Aelin, what if something had happened?”

“Exactly.”  She rose to her feet, blinking back the fuzzy blackness along the edge of her vision.  She wasn’t going to let him berate her. “I couldn’t let something happen to Luca.  He was my responsibility.  It’s a miracle I found him at all.”

Aelin waited expectantly for him to say something else.  To continue to tell her how stupid she was, how upset he was.  That she’d made mistake after mistake.

But he didn’t.

Rowan stood before her, hands on his hips and lips pressed tight together.  Silent.

“I wasn’t going to leave him,” Aelin said, and she was shocked to find emotion beginning to clog her throat. “I couldn’t.”

And then Rowan did the absolute last thing she expected.  He hugged her.

One moment he was two feet away looking as mad as she’d ever seen him, the next he was pulling her into a bone crushing hug.  His arms wound around her, one hand buried in her hair to keep her close.  It took Aelin a few seconds to reorient herself but she carefully returned the hug.

Several different questions and emotions swam through Aelin’s head.  Most of which dealt with the variety that Rowan was actually displaying affection of one sort or another.  He wasn’t a stone wall of silence in that moment but someone who cared.  At least, that was how she chose to interpret this display.

“It’s alright,” she found herself murmuring. “Everything’s fine.”

She realized belatedly that the anger she’d felt rolling off of him was actually fear.  That he’d been scared for her.  She marveled at it really, that Rowan Whitethorn would be worried about her.  

Aelin gently eased back, just enough that she could look at him with a bit more clarity.  Her entire body was still brimming with exhaustion, she could feel her own tiredness thudding through her bones with every beat of her heart.  It was only a small, dull ache though in comparison with the unyielding depths of Rowan’s dark eyes.

She didn’t go far though.  The warmth radiating off of him was welcome, feeling almost as though she were back in bed and wrapped in the many blankets.  Being so close to him was strange, different.  She’d never allowed herself to get so close to him before that now, being held by him--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe and secure.

“Sorry,” Rowan said, though he didn’t release her entirely as one hand trailed softly along her side.

Not knowing how to navigate any of this--Aelin avoided a direct response.

“How’s Luca?” she asked.

“Fine,” Rowan said, “he woke up twenty minutes ago and is perfectly fine.”

“Good,” she said, genuine relief flooding her. “That’s good.”

“We had him and Evangeline stay in the house, Evie stayed in your room,” Rowan went on to explain. “Because the weather was so bad, Lorcan and Elide stayed the night too.  They’re with the rest of the kids down at the cabins.”

“Rowan, I,” Aelin began, knowing that she did at least owe him a little of an apology.  In part for her recklessness (though they would both know she wasn’t really sorry) and for the way she acted after learning about Hamel. 

“Don’t,” he said, quick to cut her off.  His fingers dug into her sides grounding her right where they stood. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said anyways, he gave her an exasperated sort of look that made her smile. “Not about Luca, I stand by going after him, but Hamel.  There’s more to that than I’ve told anyone.”

Rowan cleared his throat, eyes flicking away for a brief moment before resettling on her. “Aedion might have told me a little about that.  And about…”

He trailed off when Aelin turned away.  She didn’t know why she did, why she wanted to ignore her past and lock it back up again where no one, not even she, could find it.  But she did.  Because she knew how it sounded, how it looked.  The spoiled rich girl from the good background with everything at her beck and call falls into a mess of drug use.  Even if she hadn’t known about it.

When the backs of her knees hit the bed, Aelin collapsed onto the mattress.  She was exhausted anyways and really just wanted to sink back into the blankets and fall asleep.  Maybe pretend none of this had ever happened.

“I ended the deal with Hamel,” Rowan said.  “Literally just got off the phone with him to tell him I wasn’t selling anymore.”

Aelin felt her jaw fall open as she stared up at him. “You what?”

If there was anything he could have said to shock her, that was it.

“I’m not selling,” Rowan repeated.  He looked as serious as he ever did, not a fleck of emotion on his face.  It was a strange beauty he held, Aelin thought at that moment.  The hard planes of his face, his sharp jawline, and the full curve of his lips—all of it combined together in such a way that nearly stole her breath away.

“Why not?” she whispered. “Not to him or not at all?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing.  Aelin thought it curious, why would he care about this so much to end the deal that, as he’d said, would bring in a great deal of money?  And why would he care enough to not want to talk about it further?

“No deal at all,” Rowan said, “my attorney’s processing a formal citation for it now.”

“Why?” she asked again.  Why did she care so much?  Was it her own love for this ranch that has somehow developed over these brief few months?  Was it no more than the desire to know that Hamel was getting screwed over? 

This time when he came towards her, Aelin didn’t move.  She only watched as he slowly drew closer until once again, his knees knocked against hers.  He hovered over her, his broad frame blocking out the light from the window.  But he wasn’t imposing, wasn’t a cruel thing engulfing her.  It was just Rowan.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he said. The admission sent shivers running along her arms, racing down her spine. “Not after, everything.”

“Everything,” Aelin repeated, trying hard to ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest and how her stomach dipped at the low timbre of his voice.  “It was the binder, wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t help the teasing words.  The binder that had outlined this week of kids coming to the ranch had included a brief plan of continued action to take on seeing more progress made for various revenue opportunities for the ranch.  Really, Aelin hadn’t expected Rowan would read much into it.

Rowan snorted a soft laugh, head tilting up as though he were looking to the heavens for help.

“Yeah, I guess that was it.” His words weren’t convincing.  Not even in the slightest.  Especially not when Aelin saw that small spark in his eyes, the way he was so close yet still so far.  And Aelin, despite everything that had happened, wanted him closer.  Rowan, she knew, was too chivalrous and wouldn’t do anything to push her over whatever line they were toeing.

She reached up, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt, the fabric soft against her skin.  

“I told you it was—” Aelin never had the chance to finish teasing him further when he swept in to kiss her.

It was a soft brush of his lips against hers, barely anything at all.  And still it made her breath catch, caused goosebumps to race over her skin.  She arched into him, eagerly seeking out of his touch.  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so wild in her own skin.

Rowan cupped her cheek with one hand as he drew her closer. The deepening kiss nearly drowned her.  He paused only once, hovering before her in a silent question.  Aelin responded by fisting her fingers in his shirt and dragging him to her.  His lips turned insistent against hers, drawing a small sound from her throat.

In all her time at the ranch, Aelin had never known Rowan to be so gentle or careful.  But the way he treated her as though she were something to be cherished, something to be loved—it had her heart seizing in her throat.  

She wanted more, needed more, and given the way Rowan’s hands ran through her hair and down her sides she knew he did too.

Which, of course, was when a soft knock came at the bedroom door.

“Aelin?”  It was Lysandra come to check on her.

She and Rowan broke apart, putting just enough distance between them.  There was no guilt or regret in Rowan’s eyes, rather a promise just for her.

Aelin straightened, adjusting her mussed shirt.  “Come in.”  She reached for the half-eaten granola bar and started to finish it off, just so she could have something to do with her hands and maybe detract from what she and Rowan had been up to.

The look on Lysandra’s face said she wasn’t convinced.  She raised a brow, fixing her look solely on Rowan before turning to Aelin.

“I told him not to bother you,” she said.

“I was already awake,” Aelin said honestly.  

Lysandra hummed, her mouth curving into a smirk. “Sure.  Well, there’s a real breakfast downstairs.  And Luca wants to thank-you in person for finding him.”

“Thanks, Lys,” Aelin said.

Her friend waited a moment longer before turning to leave.  She left the door open behind her.

Aelin waited until Lysandra disappeared down the stairs before she rose to her feet.  She was tired and still a bit achy but she knew that if she and Rowan remained up here any longer it would only result in an embarrassing call out.  That or Aedion would be sent to collect them.  And for her cousin's health and Rowan’s own sanity, Aelin thought it best not to avoid the inevitable.

Automatically, she reached out for Rowan and took her hand in his.  She laced their fingers together and gave him a small squeeze.

“I never did thank-you,” she said, stepping closer to him, willing to snatch just one more moment.

Rowan arched a brow. “For what?”

“You came to find me,” she said, “even after everything.”

His face softened and Rowan brought their clasped hands up between them, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“I’ll always come if you need me,” he promised.

Aelin smiled, unable to help it.  For the first time in ages, she felt a small bit of joy begin to kindle deep in her chest.  Where once it might have scared her, now it was a welcome feeling, one that she would keep close deep within her.

“C’mon, buzzard, before she sends Aedion up to get us.”  She tugged him to the door with her so they could join the fray awaiting downstairs for them.

And over the next few days, Aelin wouldn’t know what the future would bring.  She didn’t know if anything would happen between her and Rowan or if this was some strange moment shared together.  She didn’t even know what would happen with her career.

What she did know was that she wanted to fight for it, whatever may come.

…

Epilogue—Six Months Later

It was the howling of a dog that woke him at six in the morning, not his usual alarm.  At first, Rowan was keen to ignore it and instead try to fall back asleep.  But the dog howled again, mostly out of need for attention than anything else.  He rolled over in bed, one arm reaching out to the warm body beside him.

“Your child is calling,” he grumbled.

Aelin cursed from where she was tangled in the blankets. “You’re the one that bought her.”

Indeed, Rowan had purchased the dog that let out another howl outside.  He’d figured if he were going to keep the ranch, they should have a dog.  What he hadn’t planned on was the little demon to end up being almost exactly like Aelin.  He should have known.

Snorting a laugh, Rowan tugged her closer, ignoring the way Aelin’s blonde hair was splayed out messily, nearly engulfing him.  He wrapped a hand around her waist, keeping her close.  She was soft against him; curves and angles fitting perfectly with him.  No matter how many times they woke like this, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Aelin rolled over in his arms so they were face to face and she could hook her leg over his hip.  Already she had one hand buried in his hair as she settled down again.  Rowan cracked an eye open to watch her.

Eyes closed and a look of contentment on her soft features, Aelin still remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  The nightgown she wore was a poor excuse for covering.  The thin straps had fallen down her shoulders and left her chest almost perfectly exposed.  The hemline rode up far along her thighs.  And he was well aware she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath.  

He had no idea how they’d come to this point—no idea how he’d managed to not screw things up beyond measure.  Given the way they’d started—they by all means should still hate each other.  But here they were, tangled together in a mess of limbs.

He realized too late that she’d opened her eyes.

“Staring?” she asked.

“Always.”

Aelin grinned in that delightfully bright way she did.  It was enough to strike any man dumb.  Taking advantage of his distraction, Aelin swooped in for a quick kiss.

“I’ll take care of the dog if you make me pancakes,” she said, already climbing out of bed.

Rowan, however, had another idea.  He snatched a hand out, catching her wrist to pull her back down on the bed.  Aelin yelped in surprise, nearly falling on top of him.  She caught herself though, one hand braced on the mattress next to him.  Golden hair fell around them as a curtain, a tangled, messy curtain.

Leaning up, Rowan caught her mouth in another kiss.  This one far more than a simple peck.  Aelin sighed against him as one hand trailed along his bare chest, her fingers working in soft caresses at his side.

As he deepened the kiss, Rowan sat up and wrapped an arm around Aelin.  He pulled her fully into his lap, fully intending to have a proper morning together when the alarm clock finally went of and that damned dog started another round of howls from outside.  Groaning, Rowan tried keeping her close for just a moment longer.

“Sorry cowboy,” Aelin said breathlessly as she pulled back. “Our child is calling.  And you’re going to be late.”

She brushed her fingers through with a fond smile before getting out of bed.  This time Rowan let her go, though he wasn’t happy about it.  

Aelin threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt before she ran downstairs, calling for Fleetfoot the entire way.

In the six months since the blizzard that brought them together, many things had changed.  Normally Rowan would have shied away from it all.  Change never meant anything good.  It meant things would be different, that there was a new reality set forth before him.  And, always one to stay the course, he’d never pursued much beyond what he already knew.

But he supposed the change Aelin wrought within him was just what he needed.  And not just in keeping the family ranch.  But she made him want to be different, to be better.

After he changed, Rowan headed downstairs.  Aelin was outside with Fleetfoot, the golden lab that was supposed to be a herd dog but much preferred human company than goats.  He watched them through the kitchen window as Aelin threw a ball for Fleetfoot to chase.  

The golden sun already illuminated the sky setting everything alight.  Spring came swiftly and full of new opportunities.  And for once, Rowan didn’t dread it.

Even though he was running behind, Lorcan would kick his ass for it, Rowan whipped up a batch of pancakes and already had a few on the griddle by the time Aelin and Fleetfoot scampered back inside.

Fleetfoot pranced around happily and dashed into the kitchen to make sure Rowan knew she was there.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan said as the dog rubbed against one of his legs. “Go ask your momma for treats.”

Aelin instead fixed Fleetfoot’s food dish with the allotted portion of kibble.  Though, Rowan knew the dog would get at least one treat before the hour was out.

While Fleetfoot attacked her breakfast, Aelin came and wrapped her arms around Rowan’s middle.  She pressed her forehead into his back and sighed as she rested against him.

“You didn’t have to make pancakes,” she told him quietly.

Rowan flipped the few that were on the griddle before turning to accept a full hug.  He brushed the escaping bits of hair that flew from her bun out of the way and shrugged.

“I wanted to.”  

“Hmm,” Aelin hummed and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him.  Chaste and sweet, the kiss still held a lingering promise of what exactly she wanted to do to him. “Well, thank-you.  But you should go.  Lorcan’s going to be pissy enough as it is.”

“Yes dear,” Rowan said.

He let Aelin take control over the pancakes and grabbed a protein bar from the fridge before heading out for the day.  He paused when he reached the door looking back at Aelin as she pulled the batch of pancakes from the heat.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked up, blue eyes dazzling with her smile. “Love you, buzzard.”

The door closed softly behind him as he hurried down the porch to his waiting truck.  Beside it was the SUV Lysandra and Aedion had left behind, taking Aelin Audi with them once the snow let up.  The chrome silver was spattered with mud and dust looking as though it perfectly belonged where it was.  The sight brought a small smile to him.

His truck rumbled down the road to the stables where they would already be preparing for the first spring camp of the season.  They were expecting fifteen kids in total with another week planned for the wait-listers that hadn’t gotten in the first time.  

The day after the blizzard, Rowan officially terminated any agreement with Hamel that had been talked about, just as he’d promised Aelin he would.  They’d faced some backlash, but it was remarkable just what a few loyal names could do to help make things right.  Though, Aelin’s own determination in not letting the man have any more control over her said enough.

Now she worked in town at the singular therapy office, providing help to those who wanted.  When she wasn’t there, she was at the ranch helping him and continuing to plan and host events for more kids and individuals seeking help and comfort for their traumas and other mental health concerns.  Just like she’d always wanted.

Rowan drove past the wide-open field of the ranch his family had called home for over a hundred years.  And when he glanced in the rearview mirror at the ranch house fading into view behind him, he hoped that it would remain that way for a few more generations after.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

<3 reblogs appreciated.

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #fanfiction #tog #throne of glass fanfiction

[pagesfromthevoid]

Safe & Sound | j.m.

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Canon typical violence. She’s Frank’s niece. Age gap (she’s 32). Mentions of tampons and periods (which idk if that’s a warning needed but just in case)

Author's Note: Casually starting another series (and I have like two more in the works woooooooops)

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Ellie stared at the letter in her hand, biting her nail as she read it over slowly. Bill and Frank, who they had trekked all this way to see, were dead. She knew Joel wouldn’t be happy about this, but she also knew he wouldn't let her ask anything about it. He didn't let her ask questions, and even when he did, he passed on answering half of them. 

He was annoying like that.

“Ellie?” 

She looked up from the letter as Joel stepped back into the dining room. Holding up the letter, she gave him a grim look.

“‘To whoever finds this, but probably Joel,’” Ellie read off, waving the envelope some. “Figured I fell under ‘whoever.’”

Joel stared her down for a long moment, before shaking his head. “So they’re dead.”

“Yeah…yeah, they’re dead.” Ellie hesitated, looking between him and the letter. “Do you…?”

“No, no…you can.”

Ellie huffed but began reading, trying her best to be light about it. “‘If you find this, please make sure you check the yard. She should have buried us together, but you and I both know she probably couldn’t have done it alone…’”

Ellie continued reading, brow furrowing as she did. As the letter wrapped up, leaving Joel with everything, she hesitated on Tess’s name —as well as a name that Ellie didn’t recognize. Joel waited, watching her, before taking the letter from her hands. His hands shook some, hesitating a moment before he told Ellie to stay put and stormed outside. 

She waited a few minutes, half expecting to hear him scream or something equally as angry, but it never came. Going to peer out the window, she watched as Joel crumpled up the letter and walked to the opened gate. Ellie couldn’t see what he was doing —if he saw something that she couldn’t. But he stood and stared towards the empty town square. 

Ellie waited, then stood and moved to peer through the front door screen. Her eyes caught sight of what Joel was watching —a woman carrying a shotgun on her shoulder. Joel was not someone who just let people approach with guns, and Ellie connected pretty quickly that this woman had to be the other person mentioned in Bill’s letter.

“Miller,” the woman called as she got closer, stopping about five feet from the gate. “I assume you know then.”

Joel just nodded, and Ellie decided to make her presence known by stepping out of the house. He looked back at her as the woman pulled her gun from her shoulder. Without hesitation, Joel stepped in front of the barrel, putting his hands up. 

“Hey, she’s with me.”

The woman stared at Ellie for a long time, eyes darting between her and Joel. Then finally, her gun lowered and she came closer to the gate, stopping in front of Joel and holding out her hand. He hesitated, but set the crumpled paper in her palm.

From where Ellie stood, she could make out more details about the woman. She was way younger than Joel; didn’t have half the wrinkles or scars. And her hair was far from greying. Her clothes were clean, though overall she seemed to be relatively clean in general. Like she wasn’t just surviving, but actually thriving in this little town of her’s. She even looked healthy –not to say that Joel or Ellie didn’t look healthy, but this woman looked actually healthy. Not like she was just getting by on whatever she could. Like she actually ate meals and drank clean water and lived in a healthy way. Honestly, she was kind of pretty, which didn’t seem fair given no one else probably felt pretty these days. 

The woman pulled the letter apart, reading it over slowly. Ellie was pretty sure she was rereading it, since it wasn’t even that long, but Joel wasn’t rushing her, so Ellie decided to let the woman handle whatever she was feeling.

“Frank was sick,” she suddenly said, as if that explained anything. She didn’t look up from the letter. “He was sick even before the outbreak.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Joel managed to say, looking back at Ellie. “You don’t have to come with us. I know Bill’s letter said –,”

“I can’t stay here alone,” she interrupted, and she looked at Ellie now with a small frown. “And I know it’s not easy for a little girl to travel alone with a man.”

“I wouldn’t –,”

“I didn’t say that, you creep,” she immediately countered, giving him a dirty look. Joel glared at her, and Ellie wondered how well the two knew each other before today. “I just said I understand how it’s hard to be a fucking girl travelling with someone who knows jack shit about being a girl. It’s how I got here –with my uncle Frank, alone, at twelve.”

Ellie snickered at her outburst, earning a pointed scowl from Joel. But she ignored him, hopping off the top step of the porch. The woman watched her approach, moving to rest her shotgun on her shoulder again. Then she extended her hand to Ellie, introducing herself with a tired smile.

“I found a box of tampons,” Ellie told her once she introduced herself. “Joel said the station had been picked over –but he was wrong.”

“Find of the century,” she teased, grinning at her before looking back at Joel. “You know how tampons work, cowboy? Or were you just hoping she never started her period?”

“Don’t call me that,” Joel warned, moving away from the two now as he walked to the garage. “And I do, and it wasn’t exactly the first thought I had.”

Ellie snickered at the thought of Joel explaining how tampons worked, but reassured him that there was no reason to teach her. “I already know you stick it in your nose.”

“Ellie, what the fu –,”

The woman laughed however, covering her face as she did so. Ellie felt smug, having made a stranger laugh, even if it was at the expense of the old man in front of her. Though, Joel seemed less than thrilled by the whole thing. 

Ellie and her exchanged glances as their laughter died down. Then she motioned to the house. “Water should still be on –it’s hot. I’ll find you both some clean clothes and you can both shower.”

“Holy shit, they have hot water?” Ellie exclaimed, looking up at her with shock and disbelief.

“The hottest,” she promised, motioning them both inside.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to run inside and back up the stairs.

*****

Joel watched Ellie practically trip running up the stairs of the house as he followed Frank’s niece inside. While he understood her excitement –shit, he was excited, if he was being honest –she was going to get herself hurt if she didn’t take it down a few notches. When the door to the bathroom slammed shut, he turned his attention to the woman in front of him, who was motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen.

A thin layer of dust had collected over everything, making that one of the only real signs of abandonment in the house. But the water ran, the power was still on. It was a strange, almost painful, scene of normalcy in their bleak world. Bill and Frank’s always felt like that, though –a brief moment of domesticity before returning to the nightmare that Joel lived in.

With Bill and Frank both dead, however, that feeling of normalcy died with them.

“You look like shit,” she pointed out, breaking through his train of thought.

“Feel like it,” he confirmed, sitting at the counter. She slid an unopened bottle of water to him, and Joel gave a curt nod in thanks. “Been trying to get here for two days now.”

“Where’s Tess?”

The question lingered in the air, hitting him hard in the chest. She knew the answer, and he knew she knew. Joel was good at pushing his feelings aside, but blunt, to the point questions like that didn’t give him a chance to hide. So when he didn’t respond, she leaned on the counter in front of him, brows knit together in concern.

“Okay,” she drawled, looking around the kitchen for a moment. “Then tell me about Ellie. What’s the deal?”

“I’m takin’ her west –to my brother,” he explained, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was going to take her west to Tommy. 

“What’s the importance of getting this little girl out west –at the loss of Tess?” She pushed, pulling back from the counter to stand up straight. 

“Stop,” he snapped, looking at her now with a sharp glare. “It’s not your business.”

“If I’m coming with you —it is my business,” she retorted, giving him a pointed look. 

“Then don’t,” he countered, standing up now as she went through the cabinets. 

“And run the risk of being a woman, alone, at the end of the fucking world?” She scoffed, turning around to face him again. Her arms crossed over her chest, but not in a way that felt snarky —it was a softer gesture; one that suggested fear. Joel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her afraid of anything. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before she looked back up at him. Joel’s brows furrowed as he stood up straighter. “There’s been raiders scoping out the fence —I can’t maintain it, and I can only do so much before they finally figure out how to get through. Don’t…don’t leave me here alone, Joel.”

His jaw clenched as he watched her, instinctively clutching his fists at his side as he considered why she didn’t want to be alone. When Bill and Frank were alive, she was safe here. There wasn’t any reason to be worried about someone getting through —Bill made sure of it. But she was right; she couldn’t maintain this set up. Not alone, not as meticulously as Bill had. 

“You’re not stayin’ here alone,” he finally sighed, running a hand over his face, closing his eyes. There wasn’t a valid argument against her coming; and it was what Bill and Frank wanted. “We’re goin’ to Wyoming; my brother is out there.”

“Doesn’t explain the girl,” she pressed, though her tone wasn’t as pushy as before. “Is she your brother’s kid or…?”

“We’re not related,” he confirmed, finally opening the bottle of water she had given him. “She’s…complicated.” Joel realized that he had to explain Ellie to her, or run the risk of her freaking out if she saw the bite. And it was better to explain it now, in a safe place, than later in the open. “She’s…immune to the infection.”

Her arms dropped to her sides slowly as she looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean she’s immune?”

“I mean, she’s been bitten twice now and hasn’t turned. I’ve been with her both times; and you know me. You know damn well if she was infected, I would —,”

“I know.” She waved him off, the disbelief shifting into confusion as she leaned on the kitchen counter once more. “So what, then? Where are we taking her?”

“There’s a team of Fireflies that apparently think they can make a cure usin’ her. I was asked to take her to them.”

She hummed a bit in response, looking up at him for a few seconds. Joel shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to look anywhere but her. 

The first time Joel and Tess had met Bill and Frank was nearly a decade ago. He hadn’t wanted to interact with them; had no desire to bring anyone else into the operation the two had been running. But Tess had insisted on it, saying that Frank had been open and clear about what they had and could trade. Eventually, he had given in and they ended up there in Lincoln, pretending life was normal for just a little while. 

That was the same day he’d met her. Barely twenty-two, having been raised in both worlds. Joel hadn’t seen someone as pretty as her in a long time; a healthy glow around her. Shining eyes, and a sweet smile. It felt wrong to find her so attractive at the time –she was so damn young, and the world hadn’t completely ruined her yet. She had been helping Frank tend the garden out back and talking to Tess, who was surprised that a young woman had been living there the entire time.

“She’s my niece,” Frank had explained, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a small smile. “Bill saved us both, and we’ve been here since.”

Every time they had come back since then –a handful of times over the last decade –she was always there, always just as pretty. Excited when they would bring new things like seeds for fruits or medicine that they couldn’t otherwise get out there on their own. She was quieter then; not necessarily shy, but not willing to interrupt when business was being spoken. Joel could only assume her change in behavior had come the last few years of coping with Frank being sick. And with Bill having taken his life as well…Perhaps she was a bit jaded to the world now. But hell, who wasn’t?

“Come on, cowboy,” she finally decided, motioning for him to follow again. “The truck battery is charging; I’ll go get some clothes for you and Ellie, and we can start packing up supplies.”

He gave her a dirty look, but she ignored him.

“Bill left everything to me,” Joel suddenly announced, following her into the living room. “Well, most of it. He left the house to you.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she sighed, stopping outside a linen closet. Though she pointed at the couch and told him to sit down. “As if I need a house if I’m going with you.”

“Maybe he thought you’d come back one day,” Joel offered as he sat down. He let out a satisfied groan, sinking into the cushions.

For a few minutes, he didn’t respond to whatever she was saying, instead too caught up in how nice it felt to sit down on something actually soft. His body ached, and he wasn’t the young man he once was. And goddamn, the couch felt fantastic on his aching joints. 

“You look like you’re in heaven,” she teased, bringing a box in and setting it on the coffee table. The shower had shut off, and Ellie was yelling about clothes. “You can take a nap, Joel. You look like you need it. It won’t kill you to rest.”

“It’s fine –,”

She threw a shirt at him, hitting him in the face. He scowled, but she was just grinning knowingly. “I’ll bring her clean clothes. You’re gonna shower, and you’re gonna take a nap –me and the kid can start packing up.”

Joel hesitated, staring at the clean flannel in his hands. Then he sighed, caving. “Just don’t let her have a gun.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller

[resident-idiot-simp]

Haya everyone Resi here

You can find me here on TikTok, Instagram, Twitter , and AO3.

My pronouns are She/Her and I am somehow not any form of fruity ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ��)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ (well I might be a bit Aro/Ace but I don't really care)

I apologize beforehand because I cannot type dysgraphia is a bitch and I'm also your local Southerner and Christian (tasteful kind) here in the U.S. of A.

I am riddled with the ADHD and I am here to commit arson and have fun.

I love answering asks and questions (especially about my fics) so please shoot me any you have 🩷🩷🩷

Most current hyper fixation:

🧼Mw💀

My fics :

The Family Reunion- What if Soap's cousin saw him again after years of no contact?

COD

(Not a fic but the Captain MacTavish essay)

An Outsiders Thoughts- What do others see when observing Soap and Ghost

The Uncle- What if Joseph didn't die and Ghost gets to be an uncle

Comfort- Soap gets overstimulated and Ghost helps comfort him

The Loaned Sergeant- Since Soap is so used to Ghost as his LT how would he work with another Lieutenant?

The Old Team- What happens when Soap meets his old team?

Soap and MacTavish- What if Soap meets Captain MacTavish?

Time Kept Ticking- Soap's Family thinks he's dead, but he comes knocking on their door how will they react?

Your a CAPTAIN?!- What if the original 141 were canon in the same universe as their reboot counterparts and Soap with Ghost were using the task force as a cover for their own team?

Don't Dish Out What You Can't Take- Soap and Ghost have a badass kid

Hunger- Ghost is a wendigo because it fits so well!!

The BAU Meet SoapGhost- The BAU deal with John 'Soap' MacTavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley

The Prince & his Knight- Soap is a prince Ghost is a knight what will happen when Soap I told to court someone?

I haven't Talked to You Since last Year- Simon keeps making jokes and Soap is NOT having it

The Mistake- What if after Roba Tommy kicks Simon out?

Favored by the Crows- Ghost gains an army of crows

Task Force Try Playing Games With Civilians- The 141 play laser tag and paintball with some civilians

What People Around and On Base See- MORE POVS ON YOUR FAVORITE IDIOTS

Alone Time Interrupted by Your Team- Captain MacTavish is rudely interrupted by his team during his not so alone alone time

Cowboy Dan- Cowboy Dan is so Ghost-coded I needed to write a fic so decided to make it sad and about Soap becoming Ghost after Ghost died.

A Little Help- Ghost helps preen Soap's wings

A Little Pick-Me-Up With Company- Soap offers fresh blood to Ghost so they can escape a sticky situation while Price is an unwitting watcher

Jailbirds- Soap and Ghost get arrested on a mission gone wrong

A Preventable Fate- 09 Angst regarding Price not being a good person

What is With Those Two?- Model Ghost and Football player Soap are following each other on social media and the fans just realized

Feeding Your God- 09 Ghost as a lore accurate wendigo

Accidental Mate Acquisition- Seal Mer Soap sees Ghost as his mate what will they do?

The Captain Blowing Off Steam- The Captain has his way with Riley who is just happy to be there

Mama Bear- Mama bear Beth

What do you need?- The Captain has visitors while having his way with Riley

Matching Smiles- Soap has a Glasgow smile

How Did This Snowball so Bad?! - Soap and Ghost experience their first heat/rut together

FNAF

Empire of dirt- Ever wanted to know what others in Hurricane thought of the Aftons well wonder no longer!

The Ghost & The Bear- Freddy's POV on a ghost Michael

Final Encore- What would happen if Michael met the crew in Security Breach

#Ao3 #fanfiction #fnaf #fnaf michael afton #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #soap x ghost #johnny soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soapghost

[rainbow-nerdss]

Definition

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 25 (Joker Prompt): Role Reversal Buddie, 2.8k Read on AO3

or: 5 times people get Buck's role in Chris's life wrong, and 1 time they set the record straight

1: 

It starts on a night in December, after Buck tagged along with Eddie when he was bringing Chris to see Santa Claus. 

“You two have an adorable son,” the elf says to Buck, after Chris is done, refusing to say what he wished for but laughing when Eddie picks him up and carries him off.

Buck doesn’t correct her. She’s doing her job, and she’s being nice, and there’s no point in making the situation awkward by pointing out the mistake. 

He can’t blame her for making the assumption, either — they’re two adults, together. taking a kid out to see Santa. They’d been sitting pretty close together by the fountain, and Buck knows he’s been looking at Chris like a proud parent even though he’s not one.

It’s like a whiplash, though, going from talking to Eddie about Shannon’s place as Chris’s parent, her place in both of their lives, to someone assuming Buck is the one in that place. It makes him uncomfortable, but at the same time… there’s a longing there, for that to be true someday. Not with Eddie and Chris, but with someone.

He rejoins Eddie and Chris, and he doesn’t tell them, either. But he keeps that little mistake, and the warmth it sparked in his chest, and he holds onto it. 

He doesn’t know why, not for a long time, but that one little sentence sticks with him.

2: 

It’s years later, and Maddie’s just announced her pregnancy to the whole team. Eddie already knows, Buck’s excitement at the news making it impossible for him not to spill. They’re at a barbecue in Bobby and Athena’s back yard, and everyone toasts the happy couple.

Bobby turns to Buck, once the initial round of cheers and congratulations for the parents-to-be. “So you’re gonna be an uncle, huh? How’s it feeling?”

Eddie sips his beer, smiling to himself. Buck’s spoken about anything else since he heard the news, so Eddie’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

“Well, he’s already an uncle, right?” Ravi interrupts. Eddie frowns at him, and Buck looks as confused as he feels. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Ravi looks between the two of them. “I mean, not by blood, sure, but like…” He gestures over to Christopher, playing with Denny on the ipad.

Eddie feels himself grimace. Something about it strikes him as wrong. Buck’s an important part of Chris’s life, but uncle? He thinks of his own tíos, how they’d come to visit every now and again, spend most of the time talking to his parents and talking to him just long enough to establish how he was doing in school, and whether or not he had a girlfriend. 

He knows Buck won’t be like that with Maddie’s kid, but it still feels…. different.

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to it, honestly. "Buck isn’t—that's not..." But what can he say? That's not how it is. That’s not enough to describe Buck’s importance in Chris’s life.

Eddie looks back at Buck, and sees matching confusion on his face. “Chris doesn’t call me his uncle,” he says, as though the idea has never even occurred to him. Eddie smiles at him, and Buck smiles back, and there’s a mutual understanding there.

Buck’s not Chris’s uncle. He’s… Well, he’s something else — something Eddie’s not quite ready to name yet, but there’s a piece of paper in a lawyer’s office to attest to it.

3: 

Chris is not feeling good. His head is spinning, his stomach churning, and he feels both hot and cold at the same time. 

“Your dad will be here soon, okay, honey?” Nurse Rodriguez tells him, after hanging up the phone. “You just sit tight and let me know if anything changes.”

He’s in the nurse’s office, staring bleary-eyed at the linoleum floor. The pattern swims around as his vision blurs, and he hugs the little basin Nurse Rodriguez had given him close, feeling more like he was gonna need it with every passing second.

“I’m here for Christopher Diaz?” 

He hears a familiar voice outside the room, and it makes him relax, just knowing he’ll be home soon, able to curl up in bed or on the couch, watch TV and be taken care of.

“Mr. Diaz!” Nurse Rodriguez says, in her overly-friendly voice, and Chris laughs, lurching his stomach and making him feel so much worse.

“Uh, I’m not… I’m Buck—Evan Buckley, I mean, I should be…?”

Nurse Rodriguez backtracks, apologizing. “Oh! I am so sorry, Mr. Buckley, I see you on the emergency contact list. If you’d just sign here?”

Chris loses track of the conversation outside, focusing instead on his breathing until Nurse Rodriguez comes back in and escorts him out to Buck. Buck wraps an arm around him and helps him out to the car, then sets him up with blankets and a bucket on the couch, and serves up chicken noodle soup when Chris is able to stomach food.

He lets Chris curl into his side to take a nap, warm and comfortable, like he’s a little kid again, and he stays there even after Chris goes to bed, even after his dad gets home and comes in to check on him.

4:

Buck knocks on Hen's door, and is immediately met with an armful of sleepy infant as she passes the baby over to him. He takes it in stride, adjusting her in his arms so she's comfortable and following Hen inside. 

"Everything okay?" He asks, once they're in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty mixing bowls and flour dusting every surface.

"There's a bake sale at the school tomorrow, and someone forgot to mention it until about an hour ago." She raises her voice on the word someone, pointedly glaring out to where Denny is doing his homework in the next room.

"I said I was sorry!" Denny calls back, and Hen grumbles but Buck can see there's no real resentment there.

"That's rough," Buck commiserates. "I take it we're not going to see that movie tonight, then?"

Hen shakes her head. "Sorry, man. I gotta take care of this. I do not trust Karen with baking supplies." Hen makes a face. "Granted, I'm also not spectacular at it but…"

Buck laughs. "I can help out," he offers. "I've got a great recipe for cupcakes?"

Hen makes a face. "Are you sure? You wouldn't know it, Buck, but those PTA moms are so picky about what you bring and whether it's good enough for their precious little babies—"

Buck snorts, gently settling the baby in her rocker. She fusses a little, but calms down after a moment or two. He gets the recipe up on his phone. "Oh, trust me—I know."

Hen looks confused, so he elaborates with an amused smile. "What, you think Eddie Diaz does all that stuff? I'll never forget the look on Carter's mom's face when my cookies outsold hers at the last bake sale at Chris's school." Buck chuckles to himself, then starts gathering ingredients. 

"Huh, I'm sorry. I guess I just assumed—I mean, he's got his aunt, and Carla…" Hen trails off with a shrug and falls into place next to Buck, reading the recipe and pointing him to the right cupboards to find what he needs.

"They do some, when we've got work or something, but…" Buck falters. He wants to say something like "That's different," or "They're not his parents," but... neither is Buck, is he? He remembers the elf from all those years ago, how he hadn't corrected her. The feeling of wanting that. 

At the time, he’d thought the want was just for a family of his own, a partner, a kid. Now, though… those lines aren’t as clear anymore.

"I like to help out," is all he says, and then switches on the mixer, effectively shutting off conversation.

5: 

Eddie's had a few drinks. Buck's at work, and Chris has been coerced into going with Pepa to visit Eddie's parents for the weekend. Eddie had been supposed to go too, but he doesn't feel too guilty about playing up his injuries as an excuse not to join them. He did feel slightly bad that his parents hadn't let them off the hook entirely, insisting on taking Chris off his hands.

Chris had dragged his feet about it, but Eddie knows he's stubborn enough to stay behind if he really wants to — he likes getting to see his older cousins, and while he doesn’t want to live with them, he does like visiting his grandparents, too — if only because they spoil him rotten.

Buck hadn't wanted to leave Eddie alone tonight, not after he'd been injured on the bridge — no more than a dislocated shoulder and a few bruised ribs in the end, nothing compared to Chimney, to Bobby even Hen, but it was enough to get him signed off work for a fortnight. Things had been sketchy for a few minutes there, and for a moment, Eddie had feared… but then there was Buck, opening the doors, pulling him out by one arm.

It hurts like a bitch, but he's fine. Still, when Buck insisted on calling in Carla to keep him company tonight, Eddie didn't point out that was exactly what Buck had been so against Maddie doing for him after the lightning. He doesn't mind the company, especially since he hates being home alone at night.

Besides, Carla doesn't treat him like an invalid. She brings a bottle of some fruity gin, and Eddie orders from the nice Thai place, and they just hang out, catching up on all of the grown-up stuff they rarely get to talk about when they’re busy discussing Chris.

Still, they're halfway through the gin when Carla brings it up. "Buck said he was scared he lost you for a second there."

Eddie shrugs, then winces. He's not sure how much of the wince is because it tugged at his shoulder, and how much is the reminder. "Honestly, for a second, I was worried too. But Buck got me out." Like he always does, Eddie doesn't say. He'd come so close to telling Buck, then. Telling him everything, how he felt for him.

"You know, this house is weird without Chris in it," Carla slurs her words, just as tipsy as he is.. For a moment, Eddie thinks the subject has been changed, until she continues. "If anything does happen to you, there's no way in hell I'm letting your parents drag Chris to Texas for good. I'm gonna fight to keep that boy here, and I know Buck'll do the same."

Eddie laughs, realizing that he hadn't told her about his will. He hadn't told anyone, really, other than Pepa, Abuela and Buck. He'd known at the time it was a big deal, that people might get the wrong impression if he told them.

Turns out, it would have been the right impression after all.

"That won't be necessary," he tells her, after draining his glass.

"I know, I know — you're fine, you aren't going anywhere anytime soon."

"No, that's —well, yes, that too, but also—" Eddie gets up, gestures for her glass too, then pours them both a fresh drink. "My folks wouldn't get Chris, if anything happens. I have a will, so…" he shrugs, sitting back down and sliding Carla's glass over. "Buck's gonna look after him. If I can't anymore. Prob'ly still have to fight, but it's on paper, it's… official."

Carla hums, watching him carefully. "And Buck knows this?" she asks.

Eddie nods. "Told him after… after the shooting."

The last time Buck took Eddie’s hand, pulling him from danger, dragging him to safety.

Carla sighs, shaking her head. She looks at him like she's seeing something new, like this is the last piece in a puzzle she's been working on for years. "Why haven't either of you made a move yet?"

Eddie chokes on his drink, and she pushes a dishcloth across the table for him to mop himself up. Once he's composed himself, he meets her eye.

"Honestly?" He asks. "I can't speak for Buck, but… I'm sort of starting to wonder the same thing."

+1:

Chris is honestly tired of everyone making assumptions about Buck's place in his life. It's been clear to Chris himself for a long time—probably longer than Buck himself has known. The problem is, they've never said it out loud.

That's going to change today.

A month ago, Chris got home from Texas to find his dad and Buck making out in the kitchen.

He'd run to wash out his eyes, but then they say him down,  and the three of them had talked it out together, and he's happy for them. Happy they’ve finally started being honest with themselves, with him, and with each other.

And now, it's Christopher's turn to do the same.

He's not as good as Buck at making pancakes, but he can do French toast pretty well, so he makes enough for the three of them and sets it on the table. It's a little overcooked, but he doesn't think they'll mind. 

Then he knocks on their bedroom door—because Buck may still be paying rent on his apartment for now, but he basically lives with them already. Chris likes that, likes having Buck around even more than before.

He disappears back to the kitchen before they can get to the door, calling them down when he hears Buck ask after him in a sleepy voice.

"Oh my god," his dad says, taking in the sight of the food on the table when both of them shuffle in. "This is… you made this yourself?"

"It's Father's Day, dad. I wanted to treat you."

Chris accepts the tearful hug with only minimal complaints, part of the gift.

Once they're both seated, he goes back to his room, returning with the real present.

"Carla helped with these," he explains, suddenly nervous. "I designed them, and then she sent them off to be made with the money from my allowance, um…"

Chris hands over the one on top first, putting it in front of his dad. Buck chews on his French toast, eyeing the package curiously while Eddie opens it.

Inside is a plaque, printed to look like a dictionary entry. It's cheesy as hell, but if Chris knows his dad, he'll eat it up. 

It reads:

Dad (n): a firefighter with a terrible sense of humor, someone who drinks too much coffee and spends too much time on his hair. See also: Father

Just as Chris predicted, Eddie's eyes grow wet, and he reaches out for another hug, which Chris indulges again.

"What's the other one?" Buck asks.

Chris takes a deep breath. This is it, he tells himself, and he hands the second package to Buck.

Buck looks at it, then up at Chris in confusion, waiting for him to nod before opening it with slow, careful movements — it's so unlike Buck, who always tears into the wrapping paper on his birthday presents, that Chris almost wants to laugh. He doesn't, though. This is serious, after all.

Buck stares down at the plaque, the same style as the first, with a different message.

This one reads:

Buck (n): A firefighter with a terrible sense of humor, the maker of the best pancakes, someone who knows way too many random facts. See also: Father.

"Chris…" Buck's voice is soft, and he looks to be at a loss for words, so Chris speaks instead. He practiced what he’s going to say here, to make his meaning absolutely clear.

"I know I only ever call you Buck," he says, "but that's just because calling both of you dad would be confusing, and pops is Bobby." Chris laughs, thinking of the time he'd spent on his own in his room, thinking of different words for dad he could call Buck, none of them fitting until he realized why. "But… Buck means the same thing as those other names to me, and it has ever since the pier. Since you saved me. You're my Buck. And I'm your son."

Chris is bright red by the end of his speech, he doesn't think he's said that much uninterrupted to his parents in a long time, and they're both just… staring at him.

Chris initiates the hug this time, throwing himself into Buck's arms. Later, he'll claim it was just so he didn't have to see the sappy looks on their faces, but he buries his face in Buck's shoulder, feels Buck's arms around his back, and he knows without a doubt that he's safe there.

His dad joins the hug too after a moment, sandwiching Chris in the middle in a way that should be uncomfortable, but Chris smiles to himself anyway.

The two plaques hang side by side on the wall of the living room, for everyone who visits to see, clearing up any and all confusion in the matter.

Buck is Christopher's dad, nothing more, and nothing less.

#my fic #au gust 2023 #au gust fills #buddie #buddie fic #buck/eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family

[lightlycareless]

Hii! I just wanted to let you know that I'm a big fan of your work!

I started of with discovering your "First it Hurts" fic on ao3, then being updated to your every post cus I look forward to every fic or hc's you make!

Also, I loved the valentines special post 💗💗 BUT IM SO CURIOUS ABOUT NAOYA'S LETTER AHH, anyways I just wanted to let yknow that I love your fics and the way you write Naoya! I hope you continue writing fics about him since there's a scarcity on Naoya fics HAHAHA, but I dont mean to pressure you! Please take your time, and I'm eagerly waiting for your new fics!

Hello!!

Awww thank you so so so much!! I'm so happy you're liking it so far!!!!! 🥺❤️ akajghajkghasgjas as well as my oneshot :>

Also, I'd like to apologize for the delay; I'm slowly working my way through requests, the main fic, and the weird schedule for my job 💀 I greatly appreciate your support and patience 🥺❤️ Also, I'll be writing Naoya fics for like, ever. I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO SEE HIM ANIMATED OMG ALL THE INSPIRATION.... gotta keep this small part of the fandom alive!!!!

Now... to the letter.... I feel like it would've gone something like this:

warnings: naoya is a prick, no surprise. but... he has feelings, just that he doesn't know what to do with them. this is the oneshot anon is referring to.

Happy reading!

Y/N.

I didn’t think letters were still written in these times, outside of elderly people and the socially inept, but I suppose that for certain occasions they are still necessary.

By the time you get this you’ll probably already have an idea of where I’m going with it, yet I’ll still write it down.

I cannot deny that you came onto my life in the most unexpected way, not necessarily the best either.

I didn’t like your siblings, and I still don’t. I think of them to be nothing but highly annoying, arrogant, especially your sister who seems to parade herself around Gojo and the privilege she had of knowing him.

Your brother is somewhat… calmer in that aspect, he tends to keep to himself, and I respect that. Everyone should be like that, you know?

But I’m not here to talk about them, of course, I’m here to talk about you.

When I heard that you were going to enroll, I wasn’t thrilled, I genuinely thought great, another nuisance was to grace the school grounds—I already had this preconceived idea of you and was more than ready on keeping it… until I finally I saw you.

I’m sure you’ve heard this a thousand times already, someone like you must’ve undoubtedly… but you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen in my life. Your beauty is so mesmerizing, I couldn’t believe it was real—anyone thinking otherwise is either blind, stupid, or lying. Or maybe all at the same time.

I didn’t accept those feelings at first, tried my hardest to ignore them and go back to disliking you, find a reason to hate you and move on.

But I couldn’t, and when I heard your laughter, saw your smile, or the cute way your eyes twinkled whenever you were excited about something, I knew it was impossible for me to disregard it any further.

My feelings for you had only grown more and more as time passed, and now, I find it physically impossible to contain them, but still hard to express them to you in person.

So, I resorted to this letter, which I hope will be able to accurately convey what I feel for you, if only for a fraction, until then.

What I mean to say is… If you let me, Y/N, I can show you how special you are to me.

I can give you all that you want in the world—it doesn’t matter what, whether it being money, or the stars themselves—I will not spare any expense to give you what you deserve, and I shall assess that every day of my life until my death, starting with the gifts I’ve sent you today, alongside those waiting in your dorm.

I shall call you mine. No other man will be able to lay a hand on you, and I won’t allow any other woman to do the same to me either. My eyes will solely keep to you, and you alone; I expect you to do the same.

And in turn… I don’t ask much, except that you see me the same cheerful, adorable way you see others when happy, the one that has me completely enthralled, unable to keep it off my mind for more than one second, and… accept me into your heart.

If you so decide it appropriate to get to know each other better, you know where to find me. I shall await your response.

Naoya.

As you can see, Naoya isn’t overtly romantic or good with words (I mean, the slander at the beginning lol) but he tries, as genuinely as possible—his honesty is a virtue to appreciate lol. Also, he was TREMBLING while writing this, if not crying hahaha he really almost died when he wrote you were the prettiest girl in the whole while world.

He’ll become more comfortable with it, of course, he’s a man that can’t hold himself when it comes to talking. But it’s nice to see him all shy for once 😊

Akgjakogja I’m so happy you all liked this little oneshot—I know it was quite the bomb to drop on valentine’s day, but I swear, it’s a happy ending story :>

If there’s more you want to know about that oneshot/au just let me know, I’ll be more than happy to indulge!!

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[kalak]

Luke skywalker centric fic rec list!

Before I rec: this is a self indulgent rec list, with fics that I personally liked. The tags before the summary are mostly from the ao3 tags, but some are added by me after having read the fic. Enjoy and let me know if something is amiss!

◇Lighthearted, humor, fluff

Small Talk by starshipsilmaril Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Darth Vader, child luke, fluff, 1k finished. On the annual Imperial Life Day ball, Luke and Leia are left unsupervised by their nanny. Of course, they promptly go and find their father, interrupting his conversation.

halfway, and before I even argue by OldEmeraldEye Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, 182 words finished. Being from a desert planet, Luke lacks a certain degree of experience with seafood. Leia is happy to help.

no one can stop me, not even gravity or nasa by magneticwave Leia organa/Han Solo, humor, 8k finished. “Fuck you,” Leia says. “Who said anything about getting married? Did Luke say anything about getting married?” “Luke is not involved,” Luke says, not looking up.

An Unwelcome Guest by bornofstars Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Darth Vader, child luke, fluff, 5k finished. Two thieves break into an innocuous looking apartment in Imperial City, expecting an easy raid. To their surprise, (and horror) they find it occupied with an infamous Sith Lord, and his two young children.

Fan Mail by evilmouse holonet, fluff, humor, 4k finished. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker answers some questions for his fan club. What could possibly go wrong?

A Little Help, Here? by vader_incarnate Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, humor, 1k finished. There’s a lot of things you just don’t learn, growing up on Tatooine and then spending young adulthood as a fugitive. But isn't that exactly what friends are for? Or: Han is flummoxed by Luke's lack of driving knowledge, but Anakin can commiserate.

Worlds Apart by StupidFatPenguin Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, fluff, humor, dimension travel, 5k finished. Owing to a failed attempt at clairvoyance through the Force, Luke is sent into an alternative universe where everything is the same... except, there are two toothbrushes in his refresher and a Mandalorian in his bedroom.

Civic Duty by rosepetalfall Owen Lars & Luke Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, Biggs Darklighter & Luke Skywalker, worldbuilding, 1k finished. Teenage Luke Skywalker grudgingly sits through one of Anchorhead Freeholding's bimonthly Council meetings and does his civic duty.

The Emperor Skywalker Conspiracy by loosingletters humor, outsider pov, memes, 3k finished. (Note: a media centric fic, so it's longer than 3k.) The Emperor is dead and so is Darth Vader. So. Uh. Who exactly inherits the Galactic throne? Or, the Holonet discovers the existence of one Luke Skywalker and promptly makes it a meme.

you knock me out, i fall apart by nintendoes Padme Amidala/Anakin Skywalker/Obi-wan Kenobi, fluff, slice of life, 64k unfinished. “The falling out, the drama, the violins playing in the background…” Ahsoka lays another card on the table. “He gets it all from Anakin.”( rather: non-linear moments in the lives of the skywalker clan. )

The Force Does Not Pick Favourites (Except When It Does) by PrinceJakeFireCake Luke Skywalker & the Force, grandpa force, fluff, 3k unfinished. Part of my Anakin Skywalker being a stay-at-home dad series, but separate so people who don’t want to read my strange theories on the Force being a grandparent don’t have to read it :D

Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight Luke Skywalker & Ben Solo, crack, time travel, outsider pov, 42k unfinished. "Well, looks like we're all Sith Lords, now. I hope you've all been practicing your most menacing laughter for our first run in with the Jedi Council." Why did Jedi politics and time travel have to be so difficult?

Darth Vader Has A Thing for Me? by captainofbrooklyn Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, crack, 2k finished. “Vader's disgusting, that’s what it is. I can’t work with a man with his...tastes.” “What tastes?” In which Luke Skywalker believes Darth Vader has a crush on him.

Waves by gayspacecowboy Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, fluff, 1k finished. Luke sees the ocean for the first time. Han has a startling realization.

A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away (series) by Bopdawoo Luke Skywalker/Wedge Antilles, fluff, slice of life, 1k finished. In the Skywalker-Antilles household, Luke is the one who deals with all the creepy-crawlies.

ferned habitation by deniigiq Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, emotional hurt/comfort, humor, 5k finished. Loth-cats were the worst idea. Din should have thought this out better. He should have gone back to the Tuskens and asked for the runtiest runt that ever had runted among the massiffs. At least those things had respect for their fellow cohabitants. These cats? Not a damn lick of respect to be found.

Sitting Ducks by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 2k finished. There is a Rebel outpost on Naboo. Luke Skywalker has never seen wildlife the likes of which Naboo has to offer before. Somehow, that becomes an Imperial spy's problem.

◇ Angst, Hurt/comfort, character study

L.D. Helmet: The Early Years by Seasider Luke Skywalker & Red Five Helmet, 3k finished. L.D. (aka Red Five's helmet) has stories to tell about his former pilot-head and about the fateful day on Yavin when he meets his new head, Luke Skywalker. He's immediately feeling protective about the floofy blond hair.

From Orbit by astolat Luke Skywalker/Leia Organa/Han Solo, 4k finished. “You’ve got to quit doing this,” Han said. Luke glanced at him. “What?” Han made a wide impatient sweep of his arm. “This. Standing in the bay staring out into the void. It’s creepy, kid. Come on, it’s dinnertime. The fleet can make it into hyperspace without your personal supervision.”

After the Last War is won by Tenshi (external link) Luke gestured with his left hand, the other lost in the folds of his cloak, and perhaps in his mind he saw the former glory of the Temple, and not a maze of toppled columns, disfigured statuary, and sprawling Huttese graffiti. "It's where I belong."

for a hundred miles through the desert by wreckageofstars Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, angst, 6k finished. [“There's no water, on Tatooine,” Luke said finally. “I mean, no large bodies of water, like you have on other planets. Pools, lakes. Oceans. So,” he said, face carefully blank, like it so often was these days, “I never learned how to swim.”] Han has a hard time coming to terms with Luke's fall to the dark side during Dark Empire; so does Luke.

Luminescence by vader_incarnate Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, sith luke, major character death, 2k finished. They call him the Sun Lord, because he will not let them call him Emperor. After the Endor disaster, Princess Leia meets her brother for the last time, and the cycle begins anew.

That Place Where Darkness Dies by DragonflyonBreak Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, whump, 10k finished. Weeks ago, Luke Skywalker vanished without a trace.

Thaw by spqr Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, angst, hurt/comfort, 6k finished. That’s what hope does to you, Luke remembers now. It lingers at the back of your mind, whispering maybe, maybe, so that knowing a plan is stupid isn’t enough to keep you from trying it.

Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters Luke Skywalker & Mara Jade, Luke Skywalker & Cody, angst, suicidal thoughts, 8k finished. The Emperor made a clone of Luke Skywalker, who died as a mere five-year-old. The rest, as they say, was the Will of the Force.

fire building up inside by imadetheline Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, 6k finished. He’s not sure how long he stays in a daze, watching the ship spark and burn in the shallows, sand and smoke burning his eyes and lungs. Or: Luke crashes, and the planet's atmosphere is not exactly conducive to his survival.

Rat-at-at by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, dark, psychological torture, 4k finished. "You do not wish for my company,” Vader said. “I understand. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” “Wait!” Luke turned towards the door, nauseous horror seeping into him, just as it slid shut.

Mind Games by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, pov outsider, torture, 33k finished. Two truths and one lie: Luke Skywalker is still loyal to the Rebel Alliance. Luke Skywalker was gravely injured protecting them. Luke Skywalker is a spy.

the death of luke skywalker by peradi Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, Rey/Finn/Poe Dameron, major character death, 6k finished. Years after the revolution, some stories end. Others begin.

Waiting for The Love of a Traveling Soldier by Duck_Life Luke Skywalker/Biggs Darklighter, major character death, 1k finished. Biggs asks for Owen's blessing.

undeserving fall (this kind of sunlit love) by loosingletters Luke Skywalker/Sheev Palpatine, crack treated seriously, 9k finished. A Naboo proverb says that it takes seven steps to fall from grace or climb towards glory. Sheev had never understood why the fall wasn’t considered a victory, when he had fallen towards the dark side with laurels adorning his head. And then a Jedi Knight, who should be nothing more than a nuisance, accompanies him on a mission and Sheev finds himself wanting. (Note: the ship might make you raise an eyebrow but hear me out. This fic is actually great.)

A Hungry Growing Boy by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, monster luke, child luke, 3k finished. General Veers surveyed the latest roadblock; some sort of creature guarding the entrance to the smugglers’ lair.

◇Just the right length (around 10k words)

listen, there's a hell of a universe next door by storm_petrel Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, bamf luke, 12k finished. Luke Skywalker solves a number of life-or-death problems, makes some new friends, falls abruptly in love, and gets shot into space, all in the same day.

Master Skywalker: The Absolute Worst by PrinceJakeFireCake Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin/Boba Fett, humor, 8k finished. Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately. “You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said. Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Plain Sight by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, 11k finished. Luke is hiding from Darth Vader in the best place possible. Plain sight.

got my love jumpstarted by lacecat Rated E, Luke skywalker/Din Djarin, alternate universe - modern setting, 9k finished. Din frowns. “What are you talking about?” “I’m kind of famous,” Luke admits. (in which Luke is a celebrity, Din is not, and they both assume the same for the other)

Close Quarters by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, sickfic, fluff, 10k finished. Luke and Vader trapped in a subterranean city to wait out a snowstorm.

Professor Bug by spqr Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, alternate universe - academia, cults, 7k finished. “I saw your notes for your lecture on the Jedi Order,” Luke says quietly. “And I know you’re very good at what you do, babe, but I want you to know that like half of it is wrong.”

Tired Agents (series) by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 15k finished. Spies are personable and agreeable, and hate the fact that their targets get into more trouble than they can handle. Also, gossip magazines have a better intelligence network than most intelligence agencies.

Relatively Forceful by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Wedge Antilles, eldritch luke, 9k finished. Being the offspring of the Force means more than anyone thought it was. Being half of an Eldritch being means being related to more than one Eldritch being. On a routine mission for the Alliance; Luke Skywalker runs into a semi-distant relation and a not so distant relation.

A Warrior Dance by twoseas Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, misunderstandings, 14k finished. Luke reacts strangely to Din’s bared face and an overheard conversation leads the Mandalorian to believe the Jedi thinks he’s ugly. Things spiral out of control from there.

Lurking Hunger by planningconquest horror, eldritch luke, 9k finished. Captain Tagett intends to collect the bounty on Luke Skywalker...provided they all can survive the night.

Separation by atamascolily Luke Skywalker/Callista Ming, daemon, 5k finished. Soft wings brushed against his face, then faded as Vel crawled down his shoulder. Her proboscis tickled his collarbone as she lapped at the sweat-stained edges of his coveralls, which had flopped free in his last desperate scramble from the Sand People into the unlikely sanctuary of the Eye of Palpatine's gun room. "A moth daemon?"

Five Days on Yavin by rinwins Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, 7k finished. He’d seen so many different versions of Luke by now-- implacable knight, patient teacher, fearless pilot, loyal friend; the Jedi master who could move a starfighter with his mind and the Tatooine farm boy who laughed at his own ridiculous jokes. And they were each, somehow, still the true Luke, none of them contradictory-- all except this version, the exhausted young man asleep in the bed.

Magic Baby / Lost Child by Seasider Luke Skywalker & Tusken Raider, Luke Skywalker & Owen Lars & Beru Whitesun, child luke, fluff, 9k unfinished. It was not The Demon. It was a baby. A baby from the Other’s species, yes, but it appeared incapable of harm. She shook it hard and it made a tiny squeak. Alive and with a spirit, when it should not be. No wilding had ripped it apart and consumed it. It appeared like a gift from Her of the Desert.

Present by WhatisWithin Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, fluff, 5k finished. Luke sometimes forgot how scary Daddy was to other people. It was a weird problem to have. And a stupid one too. He should remember that kind of stuff. Everyone was scared of Daddy. After being rescued by his father from the streets of Mos Espa, ten year old Luke adjusts to life on a Star Destroyer.

The Family Tree by frodogenic Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, 12k finished. In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...

The Monster in the Mist by SilverDaye Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, horror, eldritch luke, 10k finished. Ever since Luke first saw the image of Darth Vader on the holonews, he's been haunted by nightmares of a monster in a mist-filled landscape. He soon realizes that this monster is Darth Vader, who starts to hunt Luke in and out of the dreams.

sit down, breathe, and just listen by andfollowthesun Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, 13k finished. “Of course we’re married.” Anakin is blinking at the camera guilelessly. “We’ve been married since before the end of the Clone Wars. What are you on about?”

Compromising by samvelg Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 12k finished. Five times Admiral Piett misunderstands the nature of Luke and Vader's relationship, and the one time he doesn't.

◇Solid plot, nice way to spend the evening

Repair by BananasAreForParties Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, hurt/comfort, whump, fluff, 20k finished. Mara Jade came to Aran to trade. She acquires nutcakes, Imperials, and one Luke Skywalker, condition: damaged. (Note: ugh this one's so good)

Inherited Royalty by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Owen Lars & Beru Whitesun, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, angst, hurt/comfort, major character death, 42k finished. Prince Luke Palpatine flees into the dark of the night when Lord Vader mounts an assault on the Imperial Palace. Lord Vader searches endlessly for the missing prince.

Sibling Revelry by frodogenic Leia organa & Luke skywalker, Darth Vader & Luke skywalker, humor, 24k finished. After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. Especially since Imperial Intelligence just told him that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected...

Limpet AU (series) by frodogenic Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Darth Vader & Firmus Piett, Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, humor, 89k finished. Newly returned from the Unknown Regions with Darth Vader, Admiral Piett doesn't expect much of a welcome from the New Republic. And not in a million lifetimes would he have predicted that their very first guest would be Luke Skywalker. After all, Skywalker and Vader are still mortal enemies...right? (Note: highly recommend. This series is amazing.)

I’m Here to Rescue You by Tairona Biggs Darklighter & Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker, sickfic, 29k finished. Unbeknownst to Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi has saved his life more than once. And unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, today is the day when Luke will pay him back in kind.

Strange Bedfellows (series) by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, action, 37k finished. Luke joins Mara (and her crew) on a not-date in the Penumbra Sector to watch the popular, dangerous, and very illegal Ewok swoop races. Trouble, as it always does, finds them.

I Am Almost Certain You Shouldn't Put That In Your Mouth by foldingfacets Luke Skywalker & Han Solo & Leia Organa, autistic luke, 73k unfinished. Luke has always put things in his mouth. It just felt right. When Darth Vader sees his son with the lightsaber in his mouth at Bespin, he's absolutely terrified that Luke found out Vader was his father and was going to kill himself.

Luminous Creatures by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, daemon, 30k finished. Luke is the last of his friends to have his dæmon settle. Speculation drifts through his childhood. What sort of animal do you think your dæmon will choose? asked by adults with indulgent smiles and between children as their dæmons flit from form to from in impromptu races across the desert sand.

Nub Saar by JediMordsith Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, whump, horror, 21k finished. If taking on a derelict space station and unknown Dark presence are what it takes, he's there... except that the Darkness wants Mara, too. How far is each side willing to go to have her? They're about to find out.

Deathmark by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, alternate universe - fantasy, amnesia, 38k finished. In a world torn apart by magic, necromancy and war, Luke wakes up in a strange place with a strange mark on his chest and no idea how he got there. Some people recognise him and some people want to help him. Others do not.

where you plant a rose (a thistle cannot grow) by Icarus_is_flying Luke Skywalker & Obi-wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, child luke, 48k unfinished. Leia knows exactly who she is--princess, Organa, rebel in training. But when she stumbles onto a strange boy in a hidden garden, their instant connection draws her into a house full of secrets. Secrets Luke is reluctant to share.

Legally Blind and a Menace to Society by foldingfacets Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Han Solo, blind luke, 21k unfinished. Luke Lars, a visually impaired teen, left Tatooine after landing a prestigious job as Assistant to the Royal House of Alderaan through accidental-yet-convenient means instead of trying to get into the Imperial Academy. Darth Vader is very loath to admit that he has, Force forbid, a friend -- one that he didn't quite choose but is stuck with nonetheless.

Between Flight and Longing by Sheila_Snow Luke Skywalker & Han Solo & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, 50k finished. Attempting to find a cure for a critically ill Luke, Han travels to a backwater planet in the armpit of the galaxy, piloting an aging freighter discarded by the Alliance because it was unsafe to fly. With time running out for Luke, Han figures things couldn't get much worse. He's been known to be wrong before.

Retirement (series) by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, old married couple, outsider pov, 20k finished. Jedi apprentice Asha is sent on a quest to find the legendary Luke Skywalker. She thought he was a myth!

Under the Cover of Darkness by randomlyimagine Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, time travel, 57k finished. (note: it's finished, but it's kinda left on a cliffhanger and continued into a sequel, which is unfinished.) Being sent back in time, getting to see the Old Jedi Order, Ben, his Father…it was an opportunity Luke had never dreamed he’d have. If only he and Mara hadn’t been pulled back in the middle of a mission where they were undercover as Sith.

nursery 'verse (series) by philthestone Luke skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, 75k finished. Han and Leia decide to build a nursery in the Falcon. Things progress from there. AU for the EU.

In Loco Pirates by izzythehutt Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, 34k finished. A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize.

Memento Mori by planningconquest, Slx99 Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, angst, 13k unfinished. After deposing of his former master, only one thing stands in Vader's way to absolute power: the young Prince Luke Palpatine. But there is a lot that Vader does not know about the prince.

◇ Long. Will make you lose track of time

The Son of Suns trilogy (series) by blank101 (Into the Storm, In Shadows and Darkness, At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness) Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, sith luke, whump, angst, 148k/254k/319k finished. When Darth Vader's plan to turn Luke is rebuffed he falls back on more desperate measures and hands his son over to Palpatine, who begins to systematically take apart Luke’s life to create a new Sith, turning him against his allies, his father and his beliefs with devastating consequences for both the Empire and the Alliance, as events cascade beyond anyone's control. (Note: fucking love this trilogy.)

Force Bond (series) by kittandchips Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, teenage Luke, fluff, major character death, 858k finished. This series is an AU about Vader raising a teenage Luke. Or, Vader has his orderly expectations of parenthood repeatedly destroyed by the bundle of adventure and love that is his offspring. Luke dares anyone to suggest they have problems when his father is a Sith Lord who works for evil incarnate.

Missing and Presumed Dead by LadyVader23 Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, whump, hurt/comfort, 219k finished. Three months after ESB, Luke Skywalker is still reeling from the revelation of his parentage. When he finally cracks and tells Leia, she comes up with a plot to get Darth Vader off his back: stage his death.

What Lurks in the Dark by DragonflyonBreak Luke Skywalker & Wedge Antilles, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, horror, whump, 89k unfinished. A simple mission to check out an abandoned weapons factory turns into a dangerous fight for survival. Trust is broken, loyalties will be tested, and dark secrets are brought to light. Because sooner or later, the truth always comes out.

The Heir by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke skywalker & Sabé, angst, fluff, 105k finished. Darth Vader just killed his master and learned a galaxy-changing truth: the child Palpatine adopted, the Imperial prince and heir, is actually Vader’s son, raised by Palpatine to torment him.

Tell Me About Your Mother by OffBrandLightsaber Luke Skywalker & Sabé, 147k finished. “Luke Amidala. Is that any relation to the Naberrie family?” She asked, looking up and meeting Luke’s eyes. It's a Luke is raised by Sabé AU!

In The Faces Of Our Children by soulshrapnel Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin/Natasi Daala, co-emperors tarkin and vader, post-anh au, 109k finished. Surprised by Emperor Vader on what should have been a routine training mission, and prompted by a strange impulse in the Force, Luke Skywalker surrenders to save his friends. Vader seems strangely uninterested in hurting him, but Luke doesn't know how long that will last, or just what to expect. He's definitely not expecting "I am your father."

The New Sith Order by Chi-chi-chimaera (gestalt1) Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Various Inquisitors, dark luke, 334k finished. Ten year old Luke Skywalker has no chance of fighting back when two Imperial Inquisitors stumble across him on an accidental visit to Tatooine. His family dead and nameless as any other stolen child, the only way to survive is to excel in his Dark Side training and become a fully fledged Inquisitor.

all the echoes fade by aradian_nights Luke Skywalker/Ezra Bridger, dimension travel, slow burn, 453k unfinished. Luke's exploration of some old Jedi ruins goes terribly wrong after he meets a strange man named Ezra. He finds himself in another world where his father and mother are very much alive, and, unfortunately, so is the Empire.

Back from the Future: Episode VI The Clone Wars by Ariel_Sojourner Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, time travel, 108k finished. In which Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader travel back in time together to the Clone Wars era, have amazing adventures, and save the galaxy.

#star wars #luke skywalker #star wars fic recs #fic recs #my ramblings #phew this took... a while

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in October 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #55 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🎃 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone

🎃 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, murder mystery) Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

🎃 Fight For Us by @fallinglikethis

(E, 11k, a/b/o) one dark night, long after all of the other omegas in the pen have fallen asleep, biology comes calling for Louis.

🎃 Rainy Days and Leaves by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(E, 9k, uni) Louis works at a coffee shop and spells Harry's name wrong on his cups.

🎃 could start a cult by @nouies

(E, 8k, FBI agents) Harry can’t get enough of Louis’ breast milk.

🎃 Peaky Blinders Louis (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 8k, historical) Three years ago, Louis ran with the Peaky Blinders. He thought he left that life behind, but his past might finally be catching up with him.

🎃 Let Me Taste Your Silhouette by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k, pwp) the one where Harry accidentally posts a picture to his main Instagram story instead of only to his close friends, and he just happens to be wearing a 28 Official Programme shirt. Louis happens to notice

🎃 Toil and Trouble by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl

(E, 3k, sirens) Harry and Louis are sirens who suck the souls out of humans in order to make potions

🎃 David S Pumpkins by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 3k, supernatural elements) Louis has a Halloween party to go to, and the perfect outfit to wear. It's a little odd that people in weird clothes keep appearing and disappearing. Skeleton outfits? A three piece suit covered in pumpkins? Mysterious.

🎃 like a dream but i wasn't asleep by @alwaysxlarrie

(G, 2k, strangers to lovers) It's cold outside and Harry just wants to get into his hotel room and go to bed. It should be a simple task, but it’s made more challenging by his complicated relationship with gravity, a booking mixup, and a really hot guy.

🎃 Touch the Sky and Kiss the Sun by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, soulmates) Louis Tomlinson knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry Styles is his soulmate. Harry Styles, Louis is virtually certain, is completely unawares of this fact.

🎃 Don't Forge Me by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry knows he won’t see Louis again for a while, but when he reads the confusing note tucked amongst the melons and pineapple flowers, Harry wonders if he’ll ever see Louis again…

🎃 Trackies by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(E, 2k, established relationship) Louis and Harry are having another anniversary. For Harry, Louis' hints to what he would like to be gifted are very confusing. OR The one where trackies*com isn't the place where you buy tracksuits.

🎃 Run To You by @neondiamond

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry injures himself while out on a morning run. Louis comes to his rescue.

🎃 You of course, Always you. by bunnyhusbands / @louisgayvodka

(G, 1k, friends to lovers) “Tell me what?” “That I'm in love with you”

🎃 Dearest Gemma (I fell in love) by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(G, 1k, epistolary) Harry writes letters to his sister while he impatiently waits for his lover to propose

—Rare Pairs—

🎃 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🎃 Cold Spring by @nouies

(E, 8k, Louis/Pedro Pascal) Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

🎃 two languages, one love by @nouies

(NR, 3k, Louis/Cillian Murphy) The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

🎃 Amenable by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn guides Louis through a marathon day of fucking, exploring Louis' submissive side through a series of varied constraints.

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #ficsfor4am #trackinghome #1dsource #tracksintheam #hlcreators #ficrec