#((what does this count as? Is it just a series?))
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HANDS ON ME â ì ê”
đ if you like what you see, baby put your hands on me.
itâs about to look like jeonggukâs birthday everyday with you.
based on this ask
from the grande series àšà§
pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader
genre: smut
ratings: 18+ / mdni
warnings: lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, itâs his birthday!!! and heâs getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever
word count: 3.9k
a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy đ©·đ©·
đ·ïž perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306
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jeongguk didnât wish for his birthday party to look like this.
the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.
thereâs an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.
that is probably why heâs struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. heâs a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.
he still hasnât figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeonggukâs 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all heâs ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.
what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.
youâre not popular for the clichĂ© reasons a girl in college might be. youâre not mean, you donât square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, youâre not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why youâre surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because youâre the literal definition of an angel.
an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.
youâre known for genuine reasons. heâs never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that youâre very caring in bed.
he wonât admit it, feels disgusting for it, but heâs touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.
it doesnât matter now, because youâre closer to him than youâve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since heâs now 21.
unlike most people, that number doesnât mean a lot to him. heâs not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesnât think he will just because of this newfound freedom.
heâs now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dadâs wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.
on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, âyouâre not going to fuck in mr. jeonâs wine cellar.â
âwho said anything about fucking?â dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.
jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.
he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasnât seen often. when heâs sure heâs perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.
âwell, since jimin is so afraid weâre gonna break his boyfriendâs stuff,â dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jiminâs annoyed glare, âwhy donât we let the birthday boy go first?â
at that, jeonggukâs head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. heâs not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but heâs not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.
taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, âhe can go with ___. i know that would make his day.â
sitting at her left, youâre the only one who doesnât laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.
both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.
while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeonggukâs every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeonggukâs whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way youâre looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.
he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.
a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, âletâs go, gguk.â
jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isnât heard, but he doubts it since heâs receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what heâs received his whole life.
if it wasnât for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.
you donât wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and heâs at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.
he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, âwanna go in?â
jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, theyâre not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and heâs glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.
heâs less glad for it when it means heâs officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but heâs convinced you must be an angel when you donât complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.
he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.
the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, âweâ we donât haveâ have to do anytââ
âsit on that stool, gguk.â
the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where heâs starting to feel a strong urge.
you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesnât look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way heâs still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.
his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.
now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, âgood.â
his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, âi didnât bring a gift, ggukkie.â
jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, âthâthatâs okay, ___. iâiâm very happy youâre here.â
you smile, but itâs one heâs never seen on you. itâs not one of those you flash when youâre grateful, understanding, or even amused. itâs mischievous, almost belittling. âare you saying iâm your gift?â
his eyes widen, and heâs ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, âhuhâ oh my god. iâm so sorry. that must sound soââ
you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, âhey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.â
jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. youâre impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, âbut iâm still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.â
your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.
stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.
jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.
he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing heâs going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.
jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.
his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing youâre left with are your high heeled boots.
the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, â___, whâwhat are youââ
swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.
you lean into his ear, âif you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.â
jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didnât want to bust in his tight pants already, youâre a whole different person.
your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.
his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.
he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but itâs not enough. you canât feel him.
with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, âsee? you can touch me, just like that.â
the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.
but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.
he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he canât help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, âfuckâ donâtâ donât do that. iâm gonnaâ oh, god.â
âyouâre gonna cum?â you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.
âno! iâ i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, iââ
âggukkie, this is about you. iâll make you cum, hm? howâs that sound?â the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesnât think heâs ever reached before.
until heâs back to zero.
you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and thereâs tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you donât let them.
the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, âtouch me.â
when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldnât imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.
you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, âgood, get all of it. make your hand wet.â
the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, âtake them off.â
heâs quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.
you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. itâs an adjective you donât think youâve ever used on any of the guys youâve been with, but jeonggukâs cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesnât look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.
you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, âstroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,â the second the order is out your lips, heâs already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, âmh, arenât you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.â
you clearly have noticed that heâs not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, âfuck, you wanna try that?â
you donât wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly donât have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, âwe taste so good together, donât we?â
he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and heâs graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.
you donât waste any more time, knowing thereâs not much left in the heaven youâve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.
he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what heâs missing.
youâre bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you canât reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, âfuck. lookâ look up at me, please.â
you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you canât say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times heâs seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and heâs a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.
it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, heâs painting your warm mouth with his cum.
ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.
he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and heâs not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, âi wanna make you feel good, too.â
you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, âitâs okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we donât have much time left before the others come in.â
âbutâŠâ
jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesnât get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.
you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, âthat doesnât mean you wonât get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.â
when youâre done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and youâre glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.
standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, âi got your number from dahye. iâll text you, okay?â
he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, âoâokayâŠâ
humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, âyouâre so pretty, you know that? donât be sad.â next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize whatâs happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you canât resist another peck before promising, âhappy birthday, gguk.â
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x original character#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#bts x reader#bts smut#bts imagines#bts fic#bts series#bts#đ: the grande series#đ.tgs: hands on me
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I've heard people say this before; that they discuss my stories on Discord servers and I'm like, "well, that would be nice to see". But I'm either not on that specific server because it is not relevant to my interests, or because I just don't really pay attention to Discord in general because I'm old and it confuses the hell out of me, hence I wouldn't know where to find the stuff either way. But I just don't understand why they wouldn't say these things in the place where they're reading the things. Like, a writer shouldn't have to go hunting for the comments that are made about their stories in some random place elsewhere in the ether.
I actually enjoy a relative plenty of comments, between two and five per chapter in my longest series, which is great engagement compared to some people's, because people are kind enough to say something to keep me rolling... but that's five out of generally the same 10 people commenting almost every single time, which means I'm kind of depending on them to keep me from feeling like I'm just shouting into the void (a lot of pressure on them). Meanwhile, I'm getting enough hits that if everybody who read each chapter commented I would probably have 30+ comments per chapter. Sometimes up to 100. That's rotten stats. It just doesn't make any sense to me.
Someone literally told me after reading the whole series up to now as a total specter that they couldn't bring themselves to comment until the 12th part of the series because they were scared to, for whatever reason. If people have been scaring y'all from commenting, I want to know who did that because that's ridiculous and does a disservice to everybody out here literally begging for engagement. Because the OPs are right; this is our currency in this world.
Fanfiction is motivated by community, by discussion, connection, by shared experience. We don't want to be throwing precious things into the vacuum and praying someone even notices... because we have no idea if anybody notices unless they tell us. Some of the best comments I've ever seen on any of my writing have been in the bookmarks. I just wish people would tell me what they do and don't like so that I can know that I'm not alone out there. Because other series get one or two comments per every four or five chapters, if that; and that's very hard to sustain out there on your own.
Please feed your authors if you actually want their productivity. And commenting "when is the next chapter going to be up?!" doesn't count.
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
#real talk#fanfiction#writing#comments are lifeblood#none of this applies to the heroic readers who comment in both places#because you in fact are kings and queens of this universe#All commenters are practically my reason to get up in the morning#and definitely they keep me writing#when sheer love of the story I'm telling is not sufficing that day
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@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 2
fcb femenĂ x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 2235w
17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femenĂ fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?
Alright you'll admit it. When you heard Aitana talking about your meme, you panicked, spending most of the night turning over in your bed. Realistically, there was no way anyone would ever link that account back to you, and also, you just used it to create funny memes and sometimes, you'd talk strategy too. Ok fair, you maybe had insulted some of the strategic decision from the Spanish federation once or twice (or a hundred time, but who's counting?). It was the Spanish federation after all, and you doubted anyone, and certainly not the team, would blame you for that.
To make sure to keep your hidden identity secret, it'd be simple, you just had to make sure to not be logged in the fan account when posting on your professional account. Also, you'd need to make sure to not use pictures you had taken yourself to make the memes. You smiled, satisfied, the plan was easy. Which means you now had time to post, Ingrid was your target today. It's true that you had a thing for memes, but what you liked even better were stats. Ingrid' stats? Magnificent. Chef kiss.
tacklersculers
liked by 273 people
posted 23 minutes ago...
You made a mental note to ask Ingrid's for passing tips later during your daily training session. But before, Alexia and most of the veteran players had decided a team bonding moment would be good to make sure you were well integrated.
While making your way to the training groundâbecause of course the team bonding would be in a recovery room from the training centerâ you spotted a chocolate store. Deciding coming empty handed would be unpolite, you bought some boxes to bring to the team. Because who doesn't like chocolate, right?
Alexia Putellas. Of course Alexia does not eat chocolate. The blonde had smiled to you when you had knocked on the door, waving the sweets when the Catalan had opened. She had taken them gently to put them on the side, and spoke "Gracias, cariño, but I donât eat chocolate during the season." Your face fell so low she quickly added, "The others will love it!" Talk about dying inside.
Patri had embraced you, before looking at you, worried.
"Something's wrong?"
You slumped. "I just arrived and I'm already messing up Alexia's routine..." The midfielder looked at you questioningly. "I brought chocolate."
The brunette smirked, "Great, more for us." and then she had ran to grab the chocolate boxes, dragging Pina with her. You couldn't help but giggle.
You made your way forward to where most of the team was staying. Jana patted the couch, inviting you and you threw yourself in the gap next to her.
"Hi guys! I brought chocolate, but Pina and Patri ran off with them, so I don't think you'll get any." You had said innocently.
And just like that, Mapi, Vicky and Kika jumped off their chairs, letting them fall to the ground in a loud bang and ran.
Irene sighed, "I swear these three don't even sprint that fast during matches." She was shaking her head, feigning disappointment, but you swore you could see a smirk on her lips.
You were too busy exchanging social medias with Jana to realize the two chocolate thief had come back, now chased by the three women. Pina and Patri were protecting the box as if it was their children, keeping it tight in between them. Vicky was trying to tear them apart to access the chocolate treasure, while Kika and Mapi were apparently plotting. That's when Mapi decided to throw herself at the thieve, tackling Patri to the ground.
"Ref! Unfair advantage! You're a defender you know how to tackle!" The midfielder tried to argue, but it was too late as Mapi held the box above her head, victorious.
"You'd all be getting red cards." Caro added, sighing at the desperate sight of the players acting like children.
You watched, amused, never thinking a simple box of chocolate would cause such a fuss.
Jana had gotten closer to you, and whispered in your ear "They like Churros even more than this, imagine the chaos it'd be." The smirk you gave her said it all, and you both mentally agreed to go and get Churros next time there would be a team bonding.
But Pina seemed set on making you pay for betraying her to the trio. She jumped on top of you and Jana, leaning heavily in both of your laps, looking at your phone.
That's when her eyes caught sight of your wallpaper of Mapi. She grabbed your phone. You screamed. She took off and you chased after her bickering for her to give you back your phone, but you hadn't seen that she had thrown it in Alexia's lap. The Catalan was squinting at your wallpaper, trying to decipher it.
"Is that..." She had started, unsure. "Is that a cardboard cutout of Mapi, next to you in bed?"
Your jaw dropped. "That's not what it looks like!" You were blushing furiously, if only you had been an ostrich your life would have been so much easier. You could have just banged your head in the ground and forget about whatever on earth was happening right now.
Mapi had sprinted even faster than when she went to run after the chocolate, hovering over Alexia's shoulder to look. She let herself fall on ground, holding her ribs while wheezing.
If you were not frozen, you could have tried grabbing back your phone before Alexia gave it to someone else, bus alas. The team was passing it to each other, all laughing.
"Wait, is she tucked in?!" Patri wheezed, already laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Vicky and Kika were both hitting each other, dying.
That sent some of the other players in a longer laughing fit. You dropped yourself on the couch, face buried in a pillow.
"It's the pyjamas for me," Ingrid added, pointing at the Christmas themed barça clothes you're wearing in the pic. You groan in response.
"Care to explain, cariño?" Alexia had said when most of your teammates had calmed down.
You whined, still hiding your face. "It's not fair, this is slander!"
Mapi, who had recovered from her laughing fit, had started to forcefully tear the pillow from you, but you were putting up a fight, unwilling to face the embarrassing truth just yet.
"Drop it or I'm filling a restraining order." The center back had teased, making you loosen your grip on the pillow, "You drop it! Or I'm never bringing you chocolate again!" you really tried to win, but the Spaniard was too strong for you.
When she took off the pillow from your face, you gasped, looking at her in horror. "First of all," you had started, furiously counting on your fingers. "That's your fault actually, because two years ago you didn't want to take a picture with me, so I stole that carboard from the Barcelona store." you recalled.
Now it was Alexia's turn to gasp "You stole that?" Her looks disapproving. You could tell she was not happy about that.
"It's cardboard anyways, it should be free?" You tried arguing, but were cut off by Frido, "That does not explain why you got the fake Mapi in your bed."
"Because my roommates wanted to steal her! So I had to protect cardboard Mapi."
You were dead serious. Two years ago, Barça B had won a big tournament, as a reward, the whole team was invited to watch a match from the first team. You had been delighted, thinking it would finally be your chance to get a picture with your idol. Except, things had not been going according to plan. The defender had been so focused on waving her barça flag around the field, time had slipped her mind and she was being hurried off the field. Leaving Mapi no time to interact with the fans. Before leaving, your group had been allowed to visit the merchandise store, as you were stomping around, visibly disappointed, you had seen it. A cardboard version of your idol, doing her famous lion pose. You hadn't really planned of doing it. Ok, maybe a little. So you had waited till the last moment, and when most of your teammates were out of the store, you had grabbed the cardboard cut-out and ran. You were a woman on a mission. Not stopping when you heard security guards shouting in Spanish behind you, or when you coach called your name in vain. When you were safe and sound, waiting in front of the team bus, you had looked at the life sized cardboard, appreciating it's beauty. "Totally worth it," you had mumbled to yourself.
The bus driver had looked at you weirdly, and you'd always remember the walk of shame of dragging that cardboard to the bedroom you shared with one of your teammates. Except she really wanted to have it too, asking if you two could split the custody. You did not want that, which meant you spent some long week never leaving fake Mapi alone, going as far as taking her in the bathroom with you when you showered, and keeping it in your bed.
Screeching brought your attention back to the women in the room with you.
"Do I have to be jealous?" Ingrid had screaming in between laughs. This was the final straw, chaos erupted in the recovery room. Even the serious players were gasping for breath. You swore you saw Ona almost fell out of her chair, clutching her side. The whole team was vibrating with joy.
You sighed, looking at Mapi. She had tears in her eyes and her grin was so wide you guessed her cheeks were burning. Those rare moments when the euphoria is so big, it feels like your whole body ache with it, the dopamine rush hitting you. That's when you decided that maybe, it wasn't so embarrassing after all and you laughed with them. If the center back, who was at least as concerned as you in this story, wasn't embarrassed or weirded out, then you wouldn't be either.
For a long time, it seemed everyone was driving themselves to laugh ever harder. Anytime someone stopped crackling, they'd look at each other and start loosing it even harder.
Though a knock had interrupted the room, allowing most players to catch their breath. Ona had jumped up to go get what you assumed was the food that had been ordered earlier. She had come back in record time.
Just as you thought the team might forget about your embarrassment, Aitanaâs voice cut through the laughter, dragging you into your next moment of doom.
"Look at that Ona, you're being as fast as The Flash again."
Ona had taken this for a challenge apparently, and was now running in circle around everyone. Bumping against Caro, who had started unpacking the take outs, making her curse at Ona.
The younger players snickered, aware of the meme. But when you heard that you paled, you had almost forgot about what had happened in the locker room yesterday. And for Ona to take the meme at heart so much meant that some of the players really knew about it. It was just one funny picture, you did not think they'd bring the subject up again.
Sinking into the comfy couch, you went silent, listening to the team. The older players were distributing the food, making plates for everyone while looking at Aitana, unsure of what she was talking about.
"¿Qué?" Alexia questioned, looking confused, "The...The Flash?"
Ona and Vicky threw themselves next to the captain, pulling out their phone to show her the meme. Oh god, did they knew that much about your account?
Seriously, what on earth had you done to deserve all this. First there was the chocolate chaos, secondly your Mapi cardboard story, and now you had to deal with all of them talking about your secret fan account. Your karma was very obviously failing you, or you were a terrible person in a past life, but it definitely felt like some stronger power was against you today.
"Wait, is this me?" Ingrid exclaimed, pointing at the phone with a smile.
Jana looked, "Yeah, look like they posted a new meme this morning...94% pass completion, that's really good Ingrid!" she said brightly.
Irene joined the conversation, "So they don't just make funny memes, but also keep up with our statistics?"
"That's actually hilarious, send me their account please!" Frido chimed in, chewing on food.
You were too absorbed watching them, horror in your eyes, to realize Mapi had plopped down next to you. The woman looked so serious you almost panicked.
"You know kid," she had started, looking deep in your eyes, "If I had known you were so great, I would have fought the security to take a picture with you," You could see she was dead serious, and couldn't help bursting out laughing at the thought of her fighting off the security using her barça flag as a sword.
"Sure," you beamed, relaxed but trying you best to look serious.
She gave you a cheeky smile, before continuing "So, you're bringing my cardboard twin to training tomorrow?" the defender ruffled you hair. "That's it, no more chocolate for you, ever." Back to cringing in the pillow you went. But deep down, you felt exhilarated, like everything you had dreamt of for years was finally happening. You were making your place in the best team in the world. And if being teased was all you had to deal with, you'd take it in a heartbeat.
Oh and, you were definitely bringing fake Mapi to training tomorrow.
#mapi leon x reader#barcelona femeni x reader#fcb femenĂ#woso#woso community#mapi leon reader#fc barcelona#fcb femeni#barcelona women#barcelona femeni#ingrid engen#ingrid engen x reader#imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#fcb femeni x reader#idk why i did that#yes i made the meme#it's funny in my head but is it really#barcelona femeni x teen reader#teen reader#platonic#mapi leon x ingrid engen#mapi leon x ingrid engen x teen reader
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part nine of the neighbors series. i just had to write this... it was too good of a thought to keep just in my head! javier going back to helena after you rightfully tell him to get lost for standing you up. he's not into it but decides to fuck her anyways?! this man and his unhealthy coping mechanism: sex. smh. this takes place after part seven đ€
javier peña x f!reader. ~1.5k word count. spanish heavy (translated), s m u t, honestly javi just comes with his own warning at this point, angst (as always)
Javier winces as the door to your apartment shuts in his face, the sound echoing louder than it should in the quiet hallway. He stands there for a long moment, his heart lodged firmly in his throat as guilt churns in his stomach.
Heâd known, from the moment you opened the door in that beautiful dress, that heâd made a colossal mistake. Heâs not sure how the fuck heâs going to make things right between you.
He sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. The way you masked the hurt he caused with dismissiveness and a sharp, cutting comment before turning him away somehow stung worse than if youâd just yelled at him.
His feet feel heavy as he trudges back to his apartment, the guilt following him like a shadow.Â
When he opens the door, Helena is there, sprawled comfortably on his couch with her legs crossed and a glass of whiskey in hand. She looks up, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she watches him close the door behind him with a slow, almost reluctant motion.
âEso fue rĂĄpido,â (That was fast) she comments, âÂżTodo bien?â (Everything okay?) she tilts her head slightly, her gaze curious but not overly concerned.
Javier stands at the threshold of his sunken living room, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his thoughts. He doesnât answer immediately, too busy replaying the image of you in his mind.
She sets the glass down and stands, closing the distance between them.âPuedo ver el conflicto en tus ojos, Javi. ÂżTu vecina te gritĂł o que?â (I can see the conflict in your eyes, Javi. Did your neighbor bitch at you or something?) she teases, resting her hands on his shoulders before letting her fingers curl into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
Her touch pulls him out of his thoughts momentarily. âNo,â he replies, his tone low, âPero me porte como un culero y me siento mal por como la trate.â (But I acted like an asshole and I feel bad about how I treated her)
She raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. âYouâre an asshole to everyone,â she says lightly, brushing a kiss along his jaw.
He scoffs, his frown deepening. âÂżQuĂ©? No hagas ese ruidoâsabes que tengo razĂłn.â (What? Donât make that noiseâyou know Iâm right) she chimes in as she continues with her affectionate touches.Â
Normally, heâd lean into it, let her distract him the way she always does. But tonight, it feels hollow, like a cheap salve for a wound cut too deep.
She notices his hesitance, pausing as she cups his face in her hands. âNunca he visto a nadie tan interesado en lo que hace su vecina. Should I be worried about her?â (Iâve never seen anyone so into what his neighbor is doing) sheâs half-teasing as her gaze searches his face for an answer, but Javier avoids it, the hesitation clear in his brown eyes even as he tries to shrug it off.
âNo,â he attempts to be nonchalant with his reply, âSolamente tengo ojos para ti, hermosa.â (I only have eyes for you, beautiful) His hand slips down to grip her ass, trying to redirect the moment, trying to bury the ache of guilt beneath something physical.
She narrows her eyes slightly, skeptical but willing to let it slide. âNo mientas, Javier,â (Donât lie) she murmurs. âTengo suficiente de eso con todos los hombres en mi vida.â (I get enough of that from all the other men in my life)
Instead of responding, he leans in and kisses her, rough and insistent. She doesnât push for more answers, letting him take what he needs, but she doesnât miss the edge of hindrance in his touch.
âSi necesitas hablar de algo, sabes que aquĂ estoy,â (If you need to talk about something, you know Iâm here) she says softly, more serious now as their lips brush together.
âMe ayudas mĂĄs cuando no hablas,â (You help me more when you don't talk) he mutters before pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip, and itâs enough to spark the familiar lust between them.
Urgent touches, clothes discarded in a trail to the couch, and soon theyâre a tangled mess with a throw blanket lazily thrown over their bodies.
She sinks down onto him, her lips on his neck as she whispers dirty encouragements against his skin.
It feels goodâsex with Helena always doesâbut itâs different tonight.
No matter how tightly he shuts his eyes, no matter how hard he digs his fingers into her hips to ground himself, his mind keeps drifting back to you. To the way your lips trembled just slightly before you masked it, to the look in your eyes when you told him to âhave fun vetting his lead.â
âJaviâŠâ Helenaâs airy moan pulls him back briefly, the clench of her around him sending a spark up his spine. He leans in to kiss her, messy and urgent, but itâs not to deepen their connectionâitâs to keep her quiet.
The last thing he wants is for you to hear this, for you to know just how badly heâs handled things tonight.
Large hands move around to knead at her ass, guiding her movements, but his touch lacks its usual fervor.
The thought of you fills every corner of his mind even as he tries to lose himself in her. Your excitement that day by the fountain, the shy smile as you invited him out, and the way that smile disappeared the moment you saw him walk in with Helena.
And when her orgasm begins to crest and sheâs shuddering around him, he barely notices, too consumed by the ache in his chest that no amount of physical release can fix.
She notices. She always does. Her rhythm falters slightly as she leans closer, her lips skimming his ear. âPareces distraĂdo.â (You seem distracted)
âEstoy bien,â (Iâm fine) he growls, âSigue moviĂ©ndote asĂ.â (Just keep moving like that)
For the sake of not ruining this moment, she says nothing else, though he can feel the slight hesitation in her movements before she settles back into the pace heâs been guiding her toward.
Her breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair as she rides him, and he leans his head back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut again.
It still doesnât help.
Helenaâs nails rake lightly down his chest, and he shivers, but itâs not desire that ripples through himâitâs frustration. With himself. With this situation. With the way heâs here, with a beautiful woman in his lap, and all he can think about is how badly heâs screwed things up with you.
Even as he drives her to her peak, thereâs no satisfaction in it for him. His body is moving on autopilot, chasing a release that feels more like an obligation than a need.
When he finally comes, her name is the last thing on his mind. Yours, however, lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to lash out.
He bites it back, swallowing hard as she digs her nails into the skin of his shoulders, a guttural groan muffled against her neck, his hands clutching her ass like sheâs the only thing tethering him to this moment of fleeting pleasure.Â
The instant itâs over, he feels heavier than before, the guilt settling back over him like a dense fog that refuses to lift.
Helena collapses against his chest, her breath warm and uneven against his neck. Sheâs still for a few seconds, and then she lifts her head, her dark eyes searching his face.
âÂżSeguro que estĂĄs bien?â (Are you sure youâre okay?) she asks softly, concern threading through her voice.
Javier exhales sharply, avoiding her gaze as he gently shifts her off of him. âEstoy bien,â (Iâm fine) he repeats for what feels like the millionth time, his words clipped. He stands, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor and pulling them on hastily.
She watches him in silence, wrapping the blanket around her naked form, unspoken questions hanging in the air. He can feel her studying him, trying to piece together the puzzle of his distraction, but he doesnât have the energy to reassure her. Not tonight.
He grabs the carton of cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table, his movements practiced, almost automatic. The flick of the lighter illuminates his face briefly before the glow fades, the cigarette catching with a faint crackle. He takes a deep drag, smoke filling his lungs before he exhales, watching it swirl toward the ceiling.
âÂżTe vas a quedar?â (Are you staying?)
She doesnât answer right away, licking her lips. âNo. Tengo otros planes.â (No. I have other plans)
Relief floods through him, and for the first time since they started hooking up, heâs okay with her walking out the door. He nods, tapping ash into the tray on the table.
âBueno entonces, cuidate. Here,â (Well then, take care) holding the cigarette between his lips, he fishes his leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a wad of cash, walking over and holding it out to her.
Her eyes drop to the money, her expression tightening. âJavi, ya te he dicho como me siento con esto.â (Javi, Iâve already told you how I feel about this)
âÂżQuĂ©?â He shrugs, speaking around the cigarette between his teeth. âTe estoy pagando como lo hacen todos los demĂĄs.â (What? Iâm paying you like everyone else does)
âNo eres como los demĂĄs.â (Youâre not like the others)
They lock eyes, the tension between them heavy and tangible. His exasperation simmers, then bubbles over. He tosses the money onto the coffee table with a thud.
âEntonces no lo tomes. Me vale madre.â (Then donât take it. I donât give a damn)
Helena stands, redressing and stepping into her heels. Javier finishes his cigarette with slow drags as she collects her things. She swipes the cash on her way out, crumpling it in her fist.
âÂżVes lo que te dije? Eres un culero con todos.â (See what I told you? Youâre an asshole to everyone)
He doesnât flinch but his jaw flexes, a muscle ticking as he watches her brush past him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
She stops at the door, one hand resting on the knob as she glances back at him. âNo sĂ© quĂ© estĂĄ pasando entre tĂș y tu vecina, pero necesitas arreglarlo porque odio cuando actĂșas asĂ.â  (I donât know what's going on between you and your neighbor, but you need to straighten it out because I hate it when you act like this)
With that, she unlocks the door and leaves, leaving him standing there in his living room, now feeling worse than he did before and he has no one to blame but himself.
He stares at the spot where she stood, the remnants of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He doesnât move for a long moment, caught in the crossroads of her parting words.
Finally, he curses under his breath and heads to the bathroom. The cool tile beneath his feet as he flips on the light, the hum of the fluorescent bulb filling the room. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edges so tightlyâhis knuckles go white.
The faucet sputters to life with a twist of his wrist, and he splashes cold water onto his face, droplets streaking down his cheeks and dripping onto his bare chest. It does nothing to clear the haze in his head.
When he looks up into the mirror, the man staring back at him looks just as wrecked as he feels.
This isnât sustainable and he knows it. He canât keep making a mess of every little thing in his life, canât keep masking his despair with sex, whiskey, and cigarettes.
But knowing is one thing. Doing is another.
started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interestedâ pls check it out đ€
đ·ïž : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @almostfoxglove . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @phry-k . @larascorneroftheworld . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack . @picketniffler . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @94namkooksworld . @prose-before-hoes . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .
#javier pena fanfic#javier peña fanfic#javier peña fic#javier pena fic#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier peña narcos#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier pena fanfiction
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n.s. | is it true?
đ C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ïč [my-work] | in-progress | favourites ăïč all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask ăăïč ⊠| if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]
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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.
content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.
word count: 3.1k.
note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it đ€
All the text from Jolly said was, âHey, can you come down to the studio?â And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices.Â
âYou tell him!â
âTell who what?â You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.
âTell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,â Matt is the first to speak up.
"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.
"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.
"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"
"Noah, you're going to make things worse,â Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.
âMake what worse? Whatâs going on?â You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.
âHeâs sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he canât sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or heâll fuck up his voice!â Jolly explains.
âItâs fine!â Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. âIf I need to re-record it, I will, but itâs fine right now,â he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.
âNoah, youâre not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,â Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. âTell him.â
âAgain, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if heâs not listening to you?" You know theyâre right, but heâs stubborn; you donât understand what would make your instructions different.
âHe'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.
It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as youâre about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. âNoah,â you try, but heâs steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.
You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.
"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.
"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.
"Yeah, I get that,â you cast a glance at him. âWhat did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.
"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.
"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.
"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.
Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.
"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."
"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.
"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!â He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. âThe way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."
"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.
"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.â You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.
You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.
Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noahâs house.
The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldnât be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.
You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that heâs unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure heâs okay, brings you to his front door.
When you knock, thereâs no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he wonât be too mad.
Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. Youâd think it were empty if not for Noahâs car parked outside.
You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.
Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You canât help but smile at the peaceful sight. He mustâve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen.Â
You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. Youâre still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. Thereâs no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, youâll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship thatâs so dear to you. He doesnât know how you feel. Itâs not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you canât even entertain that thought.
To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone whoâs unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.
Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.
You werenât expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.
"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.
"It's me," you say.
There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."
"Noah, please. I just-"
"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."
You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You canât help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.
You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his deskâa coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remoteâyou set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, âIâm sorry man.â You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.
You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.
"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"
"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that.Â
"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.â You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.
The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you donât want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you donât want to leave him when he's unwell.
"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"
You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."
You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."
Noah doesnât yield.
"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.
Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.
"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"
"You'd do it for Nicholas."
"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."
He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.
"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.
"Don't be,â you say, taking a deep breath. âI'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."
"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.
"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.
Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.
Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.
You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but itâs too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."
"Don't say that. It's me who doesnât deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,â he glances at the bowl of soup. âEven when I really don't deserve it."
"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."
"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.
You donât think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"
"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."
"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. Iâd say no producing until youâre better, but I think weâd have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,â you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.
Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.â
Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."
"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?â he asks quietly. âI don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"
Your heart warms at his sincerity. âOf course I will.â You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting youâd both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.
âFind something for us,â he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. âMm,â he hums with a mouthful of food. âThis is so good, I should get sick more often. I didnât know you could cook like this.â
âYeah, donât you dare,â you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasnât completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more.Â
âOh!â Noahâs exclamation breaks your train of thought. âRemind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.â
You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. âNot if I get my hands on him first.â
This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!
ê° 2 ê± âwhat they said back there. Is it true?â ê° L ê± relief ê° đ
« ê± the bedside of someone who doesnât want you there
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
â C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG
ᯀ đšđŠđđ„đŠ (28) :ă â⏀ 10 đđđ
đđđŸâ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest
@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken
â⏀ 9 đșđđșđâ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein
@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens
â⊔ 5 đœđ đđđ đœđđđđđđ»â @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human
â⯠4 đđżđżđ
đđđŸâ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday
ă+[MSG : join the taglist!]
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian fanfic#noah sebastian fanfiction#C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT#C:/PROJECTS/SEARCH/TAG/FLUFF
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[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isnât good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have also checked/updated/added the source links to the best of my abilities. I will also add all pictures to make sure absolutely everything is included. Harry and Louis' tattoos are also color-coded for easier sorting.]
PART 1 "Artist Key:
FN:Â Freddy Negrete, Shamrock Social Club (LA)
LS: Liam Sparkes, Shangri-La Tattoo (London)
KP: Kevin Paul, Kevin Paul Tattoo (London)
TA: Tom Atkin, friend of Harry & Louis', fiance of Lou Teasdale (London)
Skunx: Skunx Tattoo (London)
DC: tattoo shop where Zayn and Louis went (Maryland) ---
February 1, 2012:
Star outline (Harry) - FN [Harry's 1st tattoo]
June 15, 2012:Â
Wont' stop til we surrender (Harry) - Paul Nguyen [Harry's 2nd tattoo]
Meta: Harry got this tattoo about 10 days after Eleanor left the U.S. for the first time on the U.S. leg of the Up All Night tour. It was 2 days before she returned. It was at the beginning of the heightened closeting and increased Elounor pap shots.Â
It is also important to note that this is a modified version of the song lyric from "Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap.Â
youtube
The song lyric as it is actually written/sung:
We won't stop 'til it's over Won't stop to surrender
Harry made the lyrics "won't stop 'til we surrender," using parts of each line to make it about more than one person in a struggle against something or someone else.Â
The next day, on June 16th, Ed Sheeran did the show where he said Harry was "taken" and answered "Innit?" when a fan said "By Louis."Â
June 23, 2012*:Â
Hi (Harry) - Unknown [Harry's 3rd tattoo]
A for his mum (Anne) on forearm (Harry) - Unknown [Harry's 4th tattoo]
Meta: We did not see these two tattoos until June 23 at the Dallas show. Zayn has said in an interview that he "drew" the A on Harry's arm. This might mean he actually tattooed Harry himself.Â
The "Hi" tattoo appears to be in Louis' handwriting. Just days after the tattoo appeared, Louis appeared very interested in a radio host's tattoo, asking twice if it was in her handwriting. The interview took place in Tampa on June 29.Â
Harry: âWhat does this say?â. Boring stuff about this girlâs tattooed arm. Louis: âDid you write it yourself?â. Everyone: ââŠâ. Louis: âIs that your handwriting?â
In Miami, on July 1st, Harry revealed it said "Hi" but was very coy about it. Liam then declared it his favorite tattoo (out of 4 at the time, but it counts, god damn it) and looked right at Louis. Â
Same, Liam.
The "Hi" tattoo seems especially poignant as it came in the middle of a heavy Eleanor presence and Elounor push and Harry had Louis possibly tattoo a word on him in Louis' own handwriting. At the very least, he got a word in Louis' handwriting tattooed on himself. Almost like a brand.Â
July 27, 2012*:
I CAN'T CHANGE... (Harry) - LS [Harry's 5th tattoo]
Birdcage (Harry) - LS [Harry's 6th tattoo]
I think Liam Sparkes did the "I can't change..." tattoo, which we first saw July 27, 2012, because the lettering and tone is identical to these kinds of tattoos that Liam Sparkes does:
I think this is also most likely the day Harry got the birdcage tattoo, which I think is a Liam Sparkes design.Â
This is significant, because it places Liam early in Harry's tattoo timeline, making the stuff to come in October more important.Â
August 9, 2012*:Â
Hanger (Harry) - Unknown Artist [Harry's 7th tattoo]
I think it's possible this was done by Liam Sparkes on July 27th, as well.Â
Meta: The "I can't change," birdcage with no door and hanger are the most obvious and heavy-handed series of anti-closeting tattoos Harry has gotten to date. All 3 came between very public Elounor appearances: the France trip in early July and the Olympics on August 10th-12th.Â
August 13, 2012:
Padlock (Harry) - Ed Sheeran [Harry's 8th tattoo]
17BLACKÂ (Harry) - KP [Harry's 9th tattoo]
Pingu (Harry) - KP [Harry's 10th tattoo]
Iced Gem (Harry) - KP [Harry's 11th tattoo]
Meta: Ed & Harry got tattoos together the night after the closing ceremonies of the Olympics 2012. In this article from August 14, Kevin Paul (the tattoo artist) says:
I did a couple of bits on him last night [âŠ] Theyâre really personal to him - the reasons he had them done and stuff, so he doesnât really want to announce what they are [âŠ] One was something from his childhood, and another one was something really important in his life.
I think it's possible the "iced gem" for Gemma is the "something from his childhood." I think the 17BLACK is the "something really important in his life", because I doubt a matching cartoon-themed penguin tattoo he got with Ed is important enough to be coy about. Ed did the padlock, so Kevin wasn't talking about that one.
August 21, 2012:
Never Gonna/Dance Again (Harry) - TA [Harry's 12th tattoo]
"Bigâ on big toe (Harry) - TA [Harry's 13th tattoo]
September 4, 2012:
"Gemma" in Hebrew (Harry) - FN [Harry's 14th tattoo]
Shamrock (Harry) - FN [Harry's 15th tattoo]
Freddy Negrete posted a picture of Harry from the night of the 4th to his instagram the next day on September 5th.
September 8, 2012:
Green Bay Packers logo (Harry) - FN [Harry's 16th tattoo]
Drama Masks/SMCLÂ (Harry) - FN [Harry's 17th tattoo]
Filled in star (Harry) - FN [Harry's 18th tattoo]
You can see the same flash sheets in the mirror next to Harry's arm as in this picture from Freddy's instagram account.
Meta: Louis was most likely with him on this night. He is in the far right side of the picture. You can see his butt, legs and shoes with his rolled jeans.
Here Louis is carrying the shoes from around the same time:
(the shoelace is not important to this...it was the only pic I could find)
Louis also tweeted "ouch :(" on the same night:
After this trip, Freddy Negrete responded to a fan via instagram [link not working anymore] that "Harry wanted "a big [tattoo]" on his chest when he was in LA again.Â
Late September 2012:
2 Cross with K & MÂ (Harry) - LS [Harry's 19th tattoo]
LOVE Banner (Harry) - LS [Harry's 20th tattoo]
Meta: These were done in late September, I think. It was after the drama masks but before the "Kiss You" video shoot which was late October.Â
If Harry did, in fact, have a large chest piece in mind in early September, it's possible he may have been thinking of the birds by this point. It then might make sense that he would get the "LOVE" banner and then cover it up so soon afterwards. It could have been a part of his design. This is a Liam Sparkes design that includes birds placed similarly to Harry's with banners and the words "true" and "love" beneath:
-
continued in Part 2
TIMELINE: TATTOOS TO DATE
This is organized by date. All tattoos are linked to photos, unless they are major tattoos I want to talk about, in which case I have inserted the photos into the post. (Special thanks to thelegohouselove and their wonderful tattoo masterposts with pictures)
Dates are dates I believe they actually got the tattoos. If I canât find a date they got the tattoo, I have indicated it with a â*â which is the first date we saw the tattoo.Â
Before we begin, fun facts that might blow your mind:
Harry has 56 tattoos that we know of.
Louis 38 tattoos that we know of.Â
Harry got 30 of his 56 tattoos between June and October 2012. Thatâs, on average, about 8/month.
Louis got 10 of his 37 between October and December 2012. Thatâs, on average, about 5/month.
The most Harry ever got on one day is 4. He got 13 in a 7 day period in October 2012. The most Louis ever got on one day was 5 on February 25 of 2013.
Artist counts for Harry: Tom Atkins (10); Liam Sparkes (10); Freddy Negrete (8); Kevin Paul (3).Â
Artist counts for Louis: Skunx (7); Liam Sparkes (4); Freddy Negrete (4).
Some of this stuff isnât an exact science. Some of it is me making an educated guess, especially involving some of Harryâs tattoos in October and Louisâ âThe Rogueâ vs. âIt is what it isâ and Harryâs 3 Nails. So bear that in mind.Â
Over all, this should give you a good idea of just how much the tattoos seem to be an outlet during highly-closeted and stressful times (Harryâs June-October spree that gave way to the birds, ship & compass and butterfly and Louisâ October-December Haylor spree), not only in date alone, but also in the subject of the tattoo.
Thank you to Kerry, Jess & awesomeanonfriend for the cheerleading and fact-checking and Angela for her insight.Â
Letâs do this.
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Chapter 1 - I Saw You In The Water
Read on A03!
Mini-Series Masterlist
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.
Summary/Warnings:
Author's Note: I'm trying to distract myself from life, so here. Have a miniseries!
Title from Cringe by Matt Maeson
Word Count: 3.7k
âThis looks kind of stupid,â you mutter to Sam, and he makes a small nod of agreement, neither of you looking away from the scene before you. Rowena reciting a bunch of words that donât sound real, and Dean sitting in a kiddie pool, scowling with his eyes screwed tight.
âItâs not just stupid,â Dean snaps your name, and you flush. He wasnât supposed to hear that. âItâs pointless, and I am not getting adult baptized. You know what? screw this-â
He starts to stand, but Rowena pushes on his chest and sends him back into the water on his ass.
âNo moving, or youâll make me have to start over. And none of us,â Rowena looks Dean over with a dramatic shudder. âWant that.â
âDoes it, um, does it have to be an inflatable pool, Rowena? Canât we just put him in the shower?â
Rowena scoffs, dismissing Sam with a wave of her hand. âThat is not how magic works, Samuel. Weâre already making a gamble by hoping the spell counts this as a communal bath filled by the clean of soul, and a motel shower would be far worse.â
âClean of soul-â
âThat wee little bellhop.â Rowena gives you a sweet smile, a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach turn slightly. âOnly dirty thoughts in his head were about you and your lovely breasts.â
âWhat.â Deanâs head shoots up, his scowl somehow more violent. âWhat do you mean, her breasts-â
âI mean her tits, you dimwitted boy.â Rowena gives you a disbelieving eye roll. âMen.â
âWho the fuck was looking at her tits-â
âThe bellhop, Dearie, keep up-â
âCan you just do the spell, Rowena?â You cross your arms over your chest, half folding into yourself in a play to get the conversation off of your boobs. âNow?â
Rowena rolls her eyes, but nods and goes back to all her incoherent mumbo jumbo as Dean begins to look violent.
You bump Samâs shoulder, standing slightly on your toes to whisper, âWhat if this doesnât work?â
âIt will.â Sam shakes his head, and his hair hits you slightly in the face. âRowenaâs the best in the game, and weâre only stretching a few of the ingredients. Itâll be fine.â
Neither of you believe that, but youâre also running out of options. Youâve lost all your leads on the Book of the Damned, and Dean canât keep killing people. Itâs killing him, and Sam, and you, and also the people. And this is, in a roundabout way, a solution. And Rowena says it will work, and youâre not stupid enough to trust her, but youâre also desperate enough to make a deal with her. Sheâll do a spell to make Deanâs bloodlust refocusâmake it more about things that make him happy, and less about murderâand you and Sam will stop trying to kill her for three whole months.
If it works, itâs a win for everyone. Rowena doesnât get shot, you and Sam get Dean back, and Dean can maybe, hopefully, be happy again.
Rowena draws back up from Dean and walks over to you and Sam, extending her hand. âHair.â
âWhat-â
âHair, lass. The spell needs your hair.â
âSamâs hair?â You frown. âOr my hair?â
âPreferably, both.â
You and Sam exchange a look of what the fuck, and Sam keeps his voice lowâinaudible to Deanâas he mutters, âWhy our hair?" Why not the, uh, the bellhop guy-â
âThe bellhop is of no significance to Deanâs life. You two are the people he loves most in the world, so unless you want him to remain under the Markâs corruption,â Rowena flexes her hand, her voice becoming stern. âHair.â
Sam pulls out his hair quickly, but youâre a little slower. Youâre not someone Dean loves. Youâre someone Dean cares about, but youâre not Sam. You donât belong on the spellâs weird ingredient list, you barely belong in this room. Watching Dean in such a strongly vulnerable position, making decisions about his life for him. Heâd resisted this, youâd said please, and heâd caved almost immediately, but you mostly think he just didnât want to argue. You've all been arguing a lot latelyâSam and Dean arguing about most everything, you and Sam arguing about next moves, and you and Dean arguing about you sticking around, near him, through thisâand itâs getting exhausting.
But Rowena gives you an impatient look, and you pass your hair into her hand. If it doesnât work, you can just start over and only use Samâs hair. He has a lot of it to spare, heâll be fine.
When the spell finishes, Sam and Rowena go outside to talk and you sit on the bed, watching Dean in silence. Heâd insisted on wearing his clothing in the poolâjeans, boots, flannel and allâheâs cross-legged in the water, and he still hasnât opened his eyes.
He still looks good. Thereâs an expression made of deep lines and tense frustration on his too-handsome face, and you want to touch him. You want to touch Deanwherever heâll let you. Run soothing hands over his frown, find out of his grown-out scruff is soft or prickly, kiss his full, pink lips until he smiles, and drift down his body. Over his chest, his stomach, lower and lower until youâre wrapping your mouth around him, and he knows that you care. You really, really care about Dean, and heâs not a burden, and if this doesnât work, youâre going to stay right at his side until you find something that does, because you like to think youâd look up at him under your lashes and heâd see that you love him, and throw his head back and groan, and maybe his handsâbig and rough and so carefully skilledâwould touch you-
âBe honest with me, Sweetheart.â
His low, deep voice pulls you out of your fantasy, and you blink at him with a flush that you pray he wonât notice. âWhat?â
âBe honest,â he repeats, and his eyes open right onto yours. He doesnât look to be in pain anymore, he mostly looks tired, so you nod.
âYeah, okay. What-â
âThis is dumb.â
You huff a soft, dry laugh. âItâs a little ridiculous. But it will work, Dean.â
âNo spell that I know of calls for an inflatable kiddie pool.â
âWell, youâre not a witch.â You shrug. âAnd think of it this way, we bought that forever. We bring it back to the bunker, thatâs fun.â
âBought my ass.âDean drawls your name, giving you a pointed look that makes you squeeze your legs together a little. âDonât think I didnât notice that you and Sam stole this thing.â
âIt was like, $40.â You mumble, staring at the floral patterns of the motel carpet. âI am not paying that much for some plastic.â
âEven for a spell to save my damned soul?â Deanâs teasing, but thereâs something in his voice you hate. Something that make you look up at him with a frown, unable to hide the slight desperation in your voice.
âYouâre not damned, Dean.â
He just shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes, and before you can push it Sam returns, tossing Dean the keys and announcing that itâs time to figure out what the Mark wants.
So now, in an old, dusty bar, Deanâs smiling. He hasnât really, really smiled in a few months, and itâs incredible to see.
It aches a little that heâs smiling away from you. Across the bar with his I can show you the world, sweetheart stance and expression. The one where heâs leaning the counter with one arm, and his eyes have a promise of fun while his every word is charming and drawling and teasing. You think he learned it from moviesâheâs told you he likes the charisma of old western heroes, and there is something about his whole show that says cowboyâbut thereâs a pretty strong chance itâs just Dean. Itâs how he is. Who he is. All he does is be handsome and stupid and annoying in a way that makes you want to punch him and then immediately kiss him after.
Heâs hasnât been Dean like that in a while, though. Itâs been mostly frowns that turn in on his face, and a refusal to look in the mirror that he tries to hide, but youâve still noticed. But right now, this is your Dean. The Dean who follows you into countless dreams with his pretty lips and eyes and strong hands and body, the Dean whoâs managed to haunt you while you're awake and plant an ache in your heart when heâs in pain, and the Dean who you might know a little better than you know yourself. Itâs why you ordered a cheeseburger when he went to sulk at the bar, and why youâre facing the door in the boothâDean always faces the doorâand why it hurts something deep and hopeless inside you that the grace of Deanâs smile is all focused on a pretty girl that isnât you.
âAre you sure youâre okay with this?â
Your attention turns to Samâwhoâs looking at you with a sympathy that is not welcomeâand you give him a flat glare. âWhat am I supposedto say to that.â
âUm, the truth? I think?â Sam turns in his seat to look over at Dean, and you kick him. âHey!â He yelps your name, whipping back around with an almost pout. âThat hurt-â
âDonât look at him.â You hiss, jerking your head to Dean. âHe needs this.â
âYeah, but-â
âNo but, Sam. The spell is supposed to make him crave things he likes, he likes sex, let him have sex.â
âI donâtâŠâ Sam sighs, shaking his head. âItâs weird. I read the spell-â
âOf course you read the spell-â
âShut up, I always read the spells, itâs safer. And this one,â Sam looks you over with a frown and tight-lipped, grimacing expression. âThis oneâs odd.â
âOh no,â your voice is sarcastic and cold, and it makes Sam flinch a little. âAn odd thing. If only we knew some people who knew how to handle odd things.â
âThis is why I wish you would just talk to him.â Sam mutters, giving the waitress a kind smile as she hands out the food. âYou get mean when things like this happen. And I donât think it would be as horrible as youâve decided it would be.â
You pull the cheeseburger to your own side of the table in a blatant Dean-trap. âThat is very easy for you to say, Sammy. Worst case for you, you become a child of divorce.â
He shrugs, poking at his salad with a fork. âI think thatâs the worst case for Dean. Youâd win custody.â
âFair.â You look back to the cheeseburger, small smile threatening to pull at your lips. âI do have a higher rate of income.â
âNo, you donât,â Sam frowns. âYou make exactly what he does. Nothing.â
âWrong. Iâm a better pool hustler than he is, so my return rate is higher.â
Sam laughs, shaking his head. âDonât let him hear you say that, weâll be stuck here until he beats you in a game.â He makes a mock face of disgust. âWeâll die here.â
You let yourself fully smile, even as you mutter, âkiss ass.â
Sam just shrugs, grinning himself as he takes a long drink. You really miss smiling. You really miss easy jokes, and you really miss making fun of each other without being consumed by too much grief or pain to do so.
You really miss Dean. Heâs just across the room, but you still really miss him. And you want himâyour Dean, the one thatâs a little ridiculous and overly charming and the strongest, best man youâve ever knownâback. Over here, smiling at you, teasing you, or saying something shockingly genuine that makes your heart his even more than it already has been.
You look back to him in the barâyou canât really help it, you think Dean and you always start to look for him in any crowdâand for a second you couldâve sworn he was looking at you. His smile has faded a little, and there are lines on his forehead, so if he was looking at you it wasnât because youâre something good to him. He probably just saw his food, and then saw you, and now heâs antsy. His foot is tapping on the floor, and heâs fidgeting with the cuff of his flannel, so either Rowenaâs terrible at her job, or the Mark is eating at him again.
Youâll fix it. Whatever Dean needs you to do for this, for him, youâll do it silently and without asking for anything in return. No matter how many lectures Sam gives you about being selectively observant and kind of an idiot, youâll just help Dean, and he wonât have to think twice about it. Helping Dean is what you do, itâs what youâve done. Your whole life, in some way, has become how can I help Dean. How can I do something for this person who does everything for everyone else, and maybe heâll turn his attention to me, and maybe he wonât, but no matter what Iâll have helped Dean.
Itâs not like he doesnât help you. Dean opens doors and saves your life and patches your wounds, and he never asks for anything back. But thatâs why you want to help.
And this is helping Dean. It might be killing you a little, but itâs helping Dean, so youâll still fix it, and then drown your sorrows with ice cream, strong drinks, and small moments of his joy when heâs better.
ââââââ
Dean is really, really conflicted. Itâs ripping him in half, because he knows heâs supposed to be polite to chicksâlike the one in front of him, with the sweet smile and sweeter words he doesnât deserve to hearâbut her voice sounds like nails on chalkboard. She doesnât feel right, she doesnât feel good, and the bloodlust inside him doesnât want her.
Bloodlust is the wrong word. It was the right word, but over the past few hours it didnât feel like it anymore. Deanâs not great with wordsâheâs great with guns, and cars, and sometimes drawing, but not wordsâand even he gets that bloodlust really isnât the correct word for wanting something in a way thatâs clean. Pure and raw, but not innocent. Itâs still a craving, itâs still insatiable, but it doesnât feel tainted. Itâs driving Dean to things he couldnât really hate being dependent on. It had started softer and abstract, right after the spell, with drinks and food, so heâd driven to a bar. Then it had asked for care and love, and Dean didnât have either of those things readily at his disposal, so he looked where he usually found something close to it. In a pretty girl, with a big rack and unburdened smile.
Then his attention had wandered for half a second, and now it couldnât come back. The not-bloodlustâthat wasnât a good term for it either, heâd need to come up with a better, catchier one laterâhad tugged his gaze over to Her and Sam, and suddenly everything had been sharper and a lot more specific. Dean should go back to the booth. The booth had beer, and a cheeseburger, and Her and Sam. Mostly Her, but Sam was cool too. Dean was allowed to love two people.
And thatâs where the conflict came in. Dean needed to be over there. His stomach was turning, and his skin was growing itchy and hot the longer he wasnât there. But if he went over there, not only would he not only be leaving this very sweet girl, who seemed fine, but he might be in real danger of telling Her things he was not supposed to tell her. Things Sam kept telling Dean to tell Her, and things Dean kept having to remind Sam werenât any of his business. He would not lose another good thing because he couldnât keep himself in check. He would not poison something that didnât deserve it, no matter how much the bloodlust kept telling him to. Kept telling him that She was caring and lovely, so Dean should drag her down to his level and kiss her in the grime and guts.
The not-bloodlust wanted Her too. The not-bloodlust really liked the idea of just being closer to Her, because she usually helped things. She helped everyoneâDean wasnât specialâbut the not-bloodlust seemed to think that simply breathing air that had been inside her more recently would fix a lot of things that were boiling and cracking and hissing in Deanâs body.
Thatâs what won the conflict. He wouldnât have to say things for this to be better, they just would be. So Dean gave the pretty girl an apologetic goodbyeâsheâd be fine, there were other men who were better than Dean and werenât overtly craving their best friends in the barâand almost ran back to Her and Sam.
She looks up at Dean as he scoots into the booth, her brows furrowed and mouth tugging down. âYouâre back.â
âWell done, sweetheart, I am back.â Dean grins at Her, and that only makes her frown more.
âDid you, um,â She looks over to Sam, who shrugs. âDid you strike out?â
âNah, just hungry.â It wasnât a lie. Dean had been hungry. Dean had been starving, but he felt better now. Heâd still eat the cheeseburger, but the hunger had dulled from a mind-numbing desperation and withdrawal to just a growl near his throat of cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers are good.
âWell, how are you feeling?â Samâs voice is insistent, and Dean rolls his eyes, because he knows where this is going. âDo you want to kill someone? Rowena said the spell might take a few hours to work-â
âWorkinâ now. I feel good.â Dean takes a large bite of his cheeseburger, and She and Sam exchange looks.
âGood?â
Dean nods, shooting Her a wink. âReal good,â he says Her name through his mouthfulâcrumbs falling out of his mouthâand she sighs. Her hand twitches on the table, and Dean wants to hold it. He canât hold it. Heâs not even supposed to be talking right nowâthat was the deal heâd made with himselfâso holding hands if defiantly off the table. It would probably freak her out, too, and thatâs the last thing Dean wants to do. Heâs freaked Her out enough for a whole lot of lifetimes, so she should be smiling instead.
Deanâs usually really good at making Her smile. Heâs proud of that, because She worries more than Sam and has more nightmares than Dean, but he can always make her smile.
Sheâs not smiling now. Sheâs tense, and she keeps looking between Dean and the girl at the bar.
âYouâre good.â She repeats his words slowly, but it doesnât sound like she believes them. âAnd you think the spell worked.â
âDid work.â Dean swallows, and immediately takes another bite. Cheeseburgers are good, the not-bloodlust had decided, so Dean should eat more cheeseburgers. âDonât think it did, I know it did.â
âHow do you know?â Sam asks, pulling the cheeseburger across the table, away from Dean.
âHey!â Dean reaches for his plate, and Sam moves it away faster. âWhat the fuck, Sammy, do not touch my burger-â
âItâs distracting you, Dean, and this is serious. We really need to know if the spell worked-â
âIt did work. I donât want to gank anything, I just want my cheeseburger and-â He has to cut himself off, because that is exactly why he wasnât supposed to talk. âLook, man, it worked. Trust me, I feel good. No bloodlust, just, uh, not-bloodlust.â
Sam glances at the cheeseburger, then at Her, then at Dean. Dean gives him a very winning grinâall teeth and bright eyes, and give me back my burger, Iâm not going to kill anyoneâbut Samâs attention just moves back to Her. She mostly looks confused and tiredâDean still needs to make her smileâbut she nods, making a loose gesture of surrender, and Sam, finally, slides the food back to Dean.
âIf heâs really good,â Samâs pretty clearly talking to Her, but Dean listens anyways. Theyâre a team, heâs allowed to hear this stuff. âWe should get back to Kansas tonight. Itâs not smart to linger in a town after a hunt finishes-â
âI know,â She glances back to Dean, and he offers her his widest, most reassuring smile. She doesnât smile back, but her face relaxes a little, so Dean counts it as a victory. âDo you want to finish that, or-â
âGimme three-â
âChew, Dean.â
He does, holding up three fingers in a silent signal, and inhales the rest of his cheeseburger.
âHoly crap, dude.â Sam blinks between Dean and the empty plate. âThat was really fast, even for you.â
Dean shrugs, standing out of the booth. âDonât blame me, blame the not-bloodlust. Cheeseburgers or murder, Sammy, gotta be one.â
Sam rolls his eyes, starting to the door, and Dean lingers until Sheâs on her feet and they can follow Sam together.
âNot-bloodlust is a bad name,â She mutters, staring at the floor as she walks. âWhat about, uh, whatâs the opposite of blood?â
âDunno.â Dean watches Her carefully, raking his brain for a good answer. âWater? Waterlust?â
That gets him a small, huffed laugh. âThat doesnât make sense, Dean.â
âDoesnât have to. Itâs my lust.â
âIt is.â She meets Deanâs eyes, and her attention is soft, but it feels strange. Like sheâs trying to find something on Deanâs face he doesnât know how to get for her. âAnd if you really want, we can call it waterlust, but I like betterlust.â
âBetterlust?â
âStarts with B,â Her attention turns back to the floor, and Dean feels something sour twist around his heart and forearm. âFun to say. Makes sense, too, youâre lusting after better stuff.â
Dean was lusting after better stuff. It was a good nameâbetter than not-bloodlustâand he was willing to concede waterlust to Her. It was, overwhelmingly so, the least he could do.
âBetterlust it is, Sweetheart.â He tried his most charming, cocky, look at me, Iâm a cowboy and I can be yours if you offer me just a few kind words because Iâm a pathetic, worthless wet dog that barks and bites, but man am I good at sex, smile on Her, and this time, he got a real smile back.
End Note: Wow what's this something I write that's actually going to be short? We'll see!
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
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@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224
#angst#x reader#reader insert#romance#canon typical violence#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#godmadeaterribleerror#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean x you#dean fanfiction#Willing to Break (Supernatural)#rowena macleod#mark of cain#eventual smut#eventual fluff#eventual romance#pining#friends to lovers
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Bowser Jr
The most "canon" answer to who his second parent is is a joke by Shigeru Miyamoto where he claimed he himself was Junior's 'mother'. There's also a theory that koopas reproduce asexually. In either of those scenarios, Junior qualifies for the birth parent clause.
Additionally, it's suggested koopas hatch from eggs so that's unconventional birth clause, too.
Bowser Jr. is very difficult for us to quantify. He clearly doesn't apply for Gender Clause under our rules, but the other categories are hard to nail down.
For Birth Parent Clause, while either method you mentioned would work, neither is canon to the Mario Bros. series (Miyamoto's comment is a joke and asexual reproduction is a fan theory), so neither of them count for our analysis. In Super Mario Sunshine, Bowser Jr. goes through the game believing that Peach is his mother, though it's later revealed that this isn't the case and Bowser lied to him about this, so that doesn't really give us any info. Developers of the series have stated that "we don't know who the mother is," which could imply that there IS a mother that we just don't know about. Since this could go either way, we can't definitively answer BPC here, unfortunately.
As for Unconventional Birth Clause, I looked into what you said about Koopas hatching from eggs, and the research was... very confusing. The main problem here for us is what exactly we mean by "Koopa." According to the fanmade Mario Wiki, there are Koopas (Bowser, Bowser Jr., etc.), Koopas (a shorthand term for Koopa Troopas), and Koopas (an umbrella term encompassing both the previous groups and several others, with some more as potential but unproven relatives to the species).
While Koopas and Koopas are both notably reptilian in appearance, there doesn't seem to be much to go off of for either of them when it comes to how they reproduce. From what I've found, I don't think we've ever seen a Koopa or Koopa egg in any canonical material.
When it comes to Koopas, what does and does not count as a Koopa is at least somewhat established, but there are still a few outliers where it is unclear whether or not they count, most notably Yoshi. If there was definite proof that 1.) Koopas, including Koopas, are all members of the same species and reproduce in the same way, and 2.) Yoshi is a Koopa, then we could say for sure that Koopas, Koopas, Koopas, and by extension Bowser Jr. are born from eggs, just as Yoshi is. But neither of these points are provable.
There is, however, one enemy in the Mario franchise that seems to canonically be considered a Koopa, and that we have definitively seen are born from eggs: Spinies. The Lakitu enemy is known throughout the series to throw what have been referred to as "Spiny Eggs," which will become another enemy called a Spiny upon hitting the ground. So, at least one member of the Koopa family is born from eggs, so it's plausible that other members of the Koopa family, such as Koopas, would as well.
While it is still possible that not all members of the Koopa family reproduce via eggs in the same way as Spinies do, I'm more willing to count this than I am anything for BPC. So:
TL;DR:
Tentatively, yes, Bowser Jr. from the Super Mario series could kill Macbeth under the Unconventional Birth Clause.
Thank you for your submission! sorry this one got so off the rails.
-Mod Anthem
#asks#unconventional birth clause#debatable character#bowser jr#bowser junior#super mario bros#mario bros#nintendo#the koopa vs koopa vs koopa thing drove me inside#i hope i managed to explain this in a way that makes sense#i got halfway through the color-coding before realizing that i should put some sort of other indicator for colorblind people#im so sorry to those using a screen reader. i dont know how i would fix that in a way that would be coherent
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wildfire (cs) | seven.
âspotify playlist | series masterlist
âsummary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; thatâs how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. heâs a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailingâ until it wasnât. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you closeâ his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.
âpairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader
âgenre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut
âword count:Â 5.3k
âchapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, girlies we are lying straight through our teeth.. đ, we also got door code privilege so we can talk to professor choi about neuroscience papers in private more often!! đ, making out, a shower together ouweeee, blowjob, handjob, swallowing his cum, more cute affectionate moments, watching a movie together and being domestic af basicallllly
âa/n: i just wanna say tysm for being down bad for prof choi as much as i am <33 ily!! there will be a 7.5! & tsbut!yunho will make his debut soon.. đ
âFLASHBACK
The walk back to your building isn't that bad, especially when most people aren't quite up and about just yet. San drops you off in the same residential area, watching through his rearview mirror as you make the trek back. When he sees you enter through the side door, he pulls off and drives around to the usual garage he parks at for the day.
You make it back to your studio unnoticed, slipping in with ease and heading straight to the shower to get ready for your day. The events from last night replay over and over again in your head and you can't help but smile to yourself knowing how well San took care of you.
You long for him.
After a good, long shower to soothe your body, you try your best to go about your morning as normal as possible. You quickly dry your hair and dab on some blush, mascara, brow gel, and lip glossâ keeping it light before throwing on some baggy straight jeans, an oversized crewneck and a pair of 530 New Balances. The moment you slide your laptop into your bag, Felix comes knocking on your door.
"Morning sunshine!" He smiles. "What time did you get back from lab last night?"
"Not too late. Sunwoo dropped me off before heading to his place." You give him a toothless smile, hoping he'd buy it. And he does.
"Oh, cool. Glad it didn't seem too bad and that he was there to accompany you." You sling the strap of your back over your shoulder, swinging your door shut before locking it. You follow Felix down the hall and head down to the dining hall to grab breakfast; except, you aren't hungry.
"Eunchae and Jurin are still asleep, huh?" You nod.
"Yeah, they won't get up for breakfast anyway." You laugh, knowing the two will probably get up right before class, giving themselves enough time to grab coffee on the way over at one of the cafes.Â
"Yeah, Jiung is fucking knocked out." You giggle. "Anyway, wonder what special they have for breakfast today."
"I'm actually not hungry."
"Not hungry? For breakfast?" Felix looks at you weirdly. "Since when? It's your favorite meal of the day."
"I dunno, I'm still full from last night. I ate pretty late." Felix shrugs.
"Well okay, then. I'm just gonna grab something real quick and eat it on the go."
"No, we can stay and eat. I'll probably just grab some fruit." Felix looks at you with a brow cocked up, watching as you fiddle with the strap of your bag.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He presses his hand to your forehead gently. "You're not feeling sick, are you?"
"No." You look at him with a small, reassuring smile. "I promise."
"Okay then." He shrugs, no longer questioning you about your appetite this morning even though the tiny change in mannerism is enough to have Felix wondering what's been going on with you. Maybe it's just a phase, maybe you are just overwhelmed like Jiung says.Â
He won't ask, though. He'll let you come to him if you need him.Â
At least, you look happy. There's a certain glow to you that he can't pinpoint.
âEND
"School is awful." Jurin puts her head down to rest her eyes for a second. "I feel like I'm a robot, moving nonstop."
"Tell me about it." Felix yawns. "I have to TA in a few." Felix looks at his watch and hums. "Hm, I'll leave in like.. 5 minutes."
"You know, I actually enjoy TAing!" Eunchae pops a grape into her mouth.
"Honestly, I do too. It's pretty fun." You chime in, taking one of her grapes.
"Same, especially when the class knows how to interact. Otherwise, I kinda just stand there and look dumb." Jiung snorts. At this moment, your phone dings from an email. You furrow your brows when you notice it's coming in from the department, stating that your TA hours were gonna be split with Jeong Yunho's class.
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Hi Y/N, Hope this email finds you well! I'm emailing you to let you know there's been a change with your TA assignment. Half of your hours will be split between Professor Hsieh and Professor Jeong, effective immediately. Professor Jeong's TA needed to take leave for a family emergency and will not be returning for the remainder of the quarter. He should be emailing you soon to discuss a little further, but please feel free to reach out in the meantime if you have any questions or need any clarification. Thank you, Erika
"What's wrong?" Jiung looks at you as you read through the email.
"Uh. Speaking of TAing, I just got an email saying some of my hours are going to Professor Jeong's class. His TA needed to take leave for the rest of the quarter cause of a family emergency."
"Oh, damn. Hope they're okay." Jurin says. "Isn't that cool to be helping him now too, though?"
"Yeah, I guess." You lie because no, it's not. You'll obviously keep it civil and do what you need to do. But at the same time, you don't respect him the same way you used to. You don't care if you're biased over Sanâ you just don't do that to people you claim to love. "It'll be interesting." There's a slight pause in conversation until Felix chimes in again.
"It'll be fun, I'm sure you'll learn new things from him just like you're doing with Professor Hsieh and Professor Choi." Your heart skips a beat thinking about San, and you realize you really need to keep yourself under wraps better before you slip up and start smiling like a fucking idiot around your friends.
And knowing them, they'd never leave it alone if you give them even the slightest hint of something going on.
"Mhm." Is all you manage to say.
"What're you guys doing this weekend?" Jiung squints at all of you. "Should we head out if you're all here?"
"I think I'm gonna be gone on Sunday during the day, but I'll be back later that evening." Jurin says.
"I'm gonna head home tonight and just hang out with my mom for the weekend." You poke at your salad before forking it and taking it a bite. You also avoid eye contact because it's a lie, and you won't be seeing your mom. You'll be at San's.
"Okay, so we aren't hanging out this weekend." Jiung snorts.
"Yeah, I think my cousin is gonna come down to visit and sleep over." Eunchae says. "We'll probably go out and head around."
"Just us boys again! We should throw a little kick-it at the apartment and keep it lowkey." Jiung adds, with Felix nodding. "Eunchae, you can bring your cousin if you guys aren't too tired."Â
"Yeah! We'll swing by if we have the energy." She turns to you. "What're you gonna be doing with your mom?"
"Just hanging out, relaxing." Jiung nods.
"Nice you're spending more time with your mom." You give him a toothless smile and quietly nod.
"Alright, I gotta head out. I might even be a little late." Felix laughs. "See ya'll for dinner later? Y/N if I don't see you before you go, please drive home safely and enjoy your weekend with your mom!"
"Thank you, Lix." You smile and tuck your things into your bag. "I should probably go too, actually. I should wrap things up sooner than later." Jurin, Eunchae and Jiung begin to pack their own things as well, waving their goodbyes as you all split to different ways; some going back to lab, to class, some going to the library to finish some assignments before the weekend rolls around so they don't have to worry about it.
You walk to the Harvey Center with a slight pout, unsure of how to feel being thrown into Yunho's class. Truthfully, it could be worse. You don't know what you'd do if you somehow had to work alongside of Iseul. You're still praying and hoping you don't ever have to collaborate with her, and this is probably all sorts of fucked up because it's based on your feelings for San. You can agree that they are both great professorsâ their work and contributions are widely known. You don't doubt that you'd learn something new from them. However, you just can't get past the idea that they did what they did to San. You can never fathom betrayal like that.
You sigh.
You can't wait to tell San about this.
As promised, Yunho emails you and asks if he can set up a time to talk and catch you up on everything that's been happening in class so far. He asks if he can see you before the day ends so that you're good to go by the time next week comes.
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Hi Y/N, I think you might've received the email from Erika already about the change in your TA hours. Thank you in advance for your help, and I'm excited to have you onboard! Do you have some time before end of the day to quickly meet and go over the course? I can bring you up to date on where we're at. I'm on the east wing of the Harvey Center, room E122. Let me know what's good for you and I'll carve out the time. Thanks! Yunho
"You look unhappy." Sunwoo says as he plops down in the empty chair next to your desk, watching as you stare at the email through your laptop. "What's wrong?" You snap out of it and chuckle.
"Nothing." You pause. "Well actually, I'm short on time today so I might not get much done. I'll come in over the weekend if needed."
"Dude, it's fine. Take your weekends." He chuckles. "Why, though? Is everything okay?"
"Mhm. My TA hours are just getting rearranged."
"Oh, more or less?"
"Hm. I'm cutting down on Professor Hsieh's since she has two other TAs, and those hours will go to Professor Jeong instead."
"Oh, cool. That'll be a fun class! I've heard good things about it."
"Yeaaaah. I have to go meet him before the end of the day." You start typing your response to Yunho, letting him know 4:30pm was the best time for youâ that way, you still have time to get through some of your work before heading out. Coincidentally, at this point, San walks into the office area, along with three other people. They're conversing in good spirits, and they make a turn towards your direction to head to the small conference room situated near your desk.
"Yo, what's up Professor Choi!" Sunwoo nods.
"Hey Sunwoo." He smiles at him before looking at you. "Y/N." He subtly licks his lips and smirks, returning his attention back to the group as if it never left. You almost forget about Yunho entirely.
He'll be the death of you.
"I'm going to work on some data analysis before I see him. I don't think I'll have time to slice and image today." Sunwoo shrugs.
"All good. We have time next week in between surgeries."
"Don't remind me." You smile at him playfully.
"Assuming you'll listen and take my advice about not coming in on the weekends unless absolutely necessary, what do you have planned?"Â
"Mm, just hang out with my mom. What about you?"
"One of my good friends is visiting so I'll be taking him around and letting him sleep on my couch." You snort.
"Sounds fun."Â
"Alright, I'm gonna finish some imaging from the slicing we did earlier in the week." You nod and wave. "Have fun at your meeting with Professor Jeong, and have a good weekend!"
"You too, Sunwoo." You give him a toothless smile before returning your attention to the data on your laptop. You spend a good few minutes typing out your analysis, only turning when you hear San's voice as he passes by. He gives you a small, tiny smile before returning his attention to the group, walking out of the basement to who knows where.Â
You continue to keep your head down, bouncing between small assignments and your data analysis up until the very end. When 4:20pm hits, you quickly pack up your things and head out, giving the basement one last look. San hasn't returned after leaving with the group, so you assume he's busy for the rest of the afternoon until he heads home. You let out a small sigh, power walking over to the east side of the building. You tap your badge and hold your breath, hoping the badge reader will turn green and pop the door open; which, to your luck, it does. You follow the room numbers until the end, finding Yunho's office in the corner towards the back end of the first floor. You press your ear to the door, making sure there isn't an ongoing meeting before you knock. Once it's clear, you give his door a good, hard three knocks, not even having to wait for Yunho to respond with a 'come in!'Â
"Hey!" Yunho smiles at you as you walk in, and you give him a simple, toothless smile. "Nice to see you again!" He's standing, just about to slip a book back onto the shelf next to him.
"Hi Professor Jeong. It's nice to see you again, too."
"Please, take a seat. I'm just kinda fiddling through books right now."
"Are you working on something in particular?" You gently set your bag down and watch as he grabs another book off of the shelf and sets it down on his desk. The book has different images of the mouse brainâ the anatomy, from different angles.
"Ah, I'm just trying to make sense of some images, that's all." He smiles again at you. There's no denying that Yunho is also very attractive. He's charming in his own way, very witty and outgoing. You see him bouncing around campus pretty often, with or without Iseul in tow.
"I see."
"How's your day been?"
"It's been alright. Had two classes before I finished up work in San'sâ" You pause. "Professor Choi's lab."
"That's right, you're rotating in his lab this quarter?"
"Mhm."Â
"How's it been?"
"Amazing." You tilt your head and he nods.
"That's good. He's a good guy. If it's anybody you'll learn the most from, it's him."
"Yeah, I agree wholeheartedly." You chuckle to play it off a bit. "So.. I'm sorry to hear about your TA. I hope things are alright with them."
"Hope so, too. I'm just glad they're taking the time they need." He pulls out a copy of his syllabus and slides it over. "You're probably familiar with the format since Professor Hsieh follows a similar one. I usually do about 4 lectures and take care of finals at the end. I've got about three other professors doing guest lectures, and one of our postdocs handles the hands-on lab portion and some other classes." You skim the document. "My TAs usually handle journal club-led discussions. I'll pop in for a few if I can, but I let my TAs have the floor." You nod.
"Oh yeah, this is similar to Professor Hsieh's class. Shouldn't be too bad." You continue to flip through the syllabus.
"No. It shouldn't be." He chuckles. "I may need you to assist with one of my lectures and labs, too."
"Okay, no problem."
"I'll send you the journal club papers and add you to our discussion board. They'll submit assignments and post any questions there, and we can upload lecture or reading material there as well. You can set up office hours for however you'd like, whatever works easiest for you. Just let me know what day you decide to do it."
"Sounds good." You look at him, and he looks at you. You can see the way his brow subtly cocks up before he lets out a small laugh. He's probably unsure why it feels a little tense when trust, you're trying your hardest to not let it slip.
"Any questions? Feeling overwhelmed?"
"No, I'mâ" The door suddenly swings open and it's Iseul. Her eyes land on you for a quick second before she diverts her attention back to her husband and apologizes for interrupting. "I'm good, I think we're all set here." You stand and grab your bag. "Thanks, Professor Jeong. I'll see you next week?" He nods.Â
"Alright, well feel free to reach out if anything comes up. Have a great weekend, Y/N."
"You too." You give him a short and curt bow before slipping past Iseul. You feel her eyes on you as you pass by, up until the very moment you slip out the door.
And finally, it feels like you can breathe.
"Is that your new TA?"Â
"Y/N, yes." He stands to give her a hug and kiss on the top of the head.Â
"She looks familiar."
"Well, she's in the bioengineering department and has rotated in Christopher's lab. She's in San's now."
"Hm." She hums. "Interesting." There's something about you that rubs her the wrong way and she's quick to trust her gut. It's not that she doesn't trust you around Yunho, no. But, she doesn't know you and something already feels weird.
"So, hungry? Where should we go for dinner?" He sits back down while Iseul leans against his cabinet behind him, scrolling through her phone.
"I'm feeling sushi tonight."
"That sounds good. Let me finish this up real quick and I'll get you out of here, okay?" He squeezes her hip before returning his attention back to the images on his screen.
After you meet with Yunho, you walk back straight to your studio to pack up for the weekend. You wash up and grab a few things, changing into comfier clothes per usual. When you leave, you shoot San a quick text, waving goodbye to a few friends you run into on your way out.
you: i'm about to head to your house!
san: sorry baby, just wrapping things up but i'll be there ASAP. feel free to get comfy and do whatever you need to do. code to the door is 9583.
you: waoow i have door code access now đ€
san: lol you sure do, pretty girl. i'll see you soon, okay?
you: mmkay, hurry âčïž
San smiles to himself as he sets the phone down and powers through a few more tasks. When you get to San's house, you park off to the curb and head straight inside, hoping to avoid any confrontation with neighbors at this moment. You slip in and step out of your shoes, sighing a sigh of relief when you've made it safely. You head upstairs to drop your things, noticing San's bed fixed nicely. Rings spread across the drawer, cologne lightly lingering in the air.Â
You can't wait for him to get home.
You head back downstairs and turn on the tv for background noise, lighting up a candle on the island. You take a few moments to snack on some fruits before you [slowly] start prepping ingredients for dinner, scrolling through Instagram and getting lost in the social media rabbit hole. You lazily walk over to San's fridge and quickly skim the shelves to see if there's any ideas that'll pop up for dinner. He's got just enough groceries, but nothing too overwhelming. You walk over to the pantry, also taking your time to skim the shelves. The TV is unexpectedly playing a show on unsolved mysteries, which distracts you to a great extent as you hang out beneath the door frame of the pantry.
"Hm." You pull up random recipes in between glancing at the tv. It isn't long before you hear the garage door open, the soft, muffled audio creeping through the walls. San walks in shortly afterwards, airpod in one ear while taking a meeting on Zoom through his phone.Â
"Yeah, I know. I agree. Maybe they should work on it together and try a different approach? Have you asked Russ to try some computational analysis on their data?" Is all you hear him say as he walks into the kitchen with a smile on his face seeing you there. You reciprocate the smile and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for the right moment to kiss him and welcome him home. "Mhm." He says before muting himself. "Hi baby."
"Hi." You tippy-toe to kiss him, allowing San to deepen the kiss despite his Zoom call still going on in the background. "San." You giggle in between, pointing at his phone.
"They don't need me right now." He chases after your lips, hands sliding from the small of your back down to your ass and giving it a good squeeze. You squeal, indulging in a few more seconds of kissing Sanâ fingers tangled in the ends of his hair, gently biting onto his bottom lip and causing him to hiss in response just as you pull away.
"Go finish up your meeting."
"Tease." He mouths out before unmuting himself. "Yeah, I'm here. I hear you." He keeps his eyes on you with a small smirk. He points upstairs, mouthing out a quick 'i'll be in my office.' You nod, giving him one last peck on the lips before he disappears up the steps. You rummage through his fridge to grab those mushrooms, bokchoy, and tofu he had sitting around to whip up a quick udon stir fry. Before chopping up your ingredients, you let the udon sit in a hot water bath while you pop in some shrimp tempura you found in his freezer in the air fryer. Once the noodles are ready, you toss them in as you fry the vegetables, along with your wet ingredientsâ whipping everything up in a matter of 25 mins.Â
After his meeting, San quickly finishes some emails and follows up on a few pending items before calling it a day. He's trying to balance his time better now that you're around because the last thing he wants to do is make the same mistake again of unintentionally pushing someone he cares about away. And it's a little scarier this time, a little different, because San feels himself falling deep [and fast] for you. He doesn't wanna run you off or scare you in any way, and he surely doesn't want a repetition of his last, but he truly cares about you and wants this to work no matter how tough it might be.
He just wants you.
He sighs when the thoughts flood his head, locking his computer and setting his things aside. Since he hears you whipping up dinner, he heads to the room to change and quickly shower. He tosses his clothes into the laundry and steps in, leaving the bathroom door cracked open. When you head up the stairs after making dinner, you find San drenched underneath the piping hot water. Steam is rising out of the shower and into its surroundings, fogging up the mirrors. You watch for a few moments through his bathroom mirrorâ catching 'lil peeks and admiring his pretty, honey-dipped skin, wet black hair. You find the sudden urge to join him, to just be with him, and before you can even think twice, your feet are already taking you to San. You tread over in front of the shower door, San curiously looking at you with a small smile on his face. His eyes are glued to you while he watches you strip down in front of him, beautifully bare and raw. He pops the door open for you to step in, hands instantly coming to your waist to pull you flush against him.
"Wasn't expecting you to join."
"Thought we could save some water."
"Yeah?" He laughs. "I'm not mad about it." You tippy-toe to peck him on the lips. He doesn't let you go, though. He deepens the kiss, tongues fighting for dominance slowly, sensually. His hands are roaming all over your body, giving your breasts a good squeeze. You moan, the need, desire, to please San becomes overwhelming. He lets out a small sigh when he feels your hand wrap around his hard cock, his breathy moan causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your lips press chaste kisses down the column of his neck, tongue swiping across the surface before you gently nibble. You're careful not to leave any marks, softly sucking on the base of his neck, collarbone; just enough to make him feel a way without having the proof littered on his skin.
"Fuck, princess." He chokes out. "Feels so damn good already." You pick up the pace as you continue to stroke him, slowly crouching down to come eye level with his memberâ kissing and sucking away at his angry, red tip to start it off. Your tongue swipes from the base upwards, pressing tiny kisses across the surface. "Don't be such a tease." He pouts as he watches from above. You smirk, taking half of him inside your mouth. You work your hand at the same time you bob up and down, pulling back with a pop. The string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip drives him insane, his hand coming to the back of your head to slowly guide you down his length the next time you've stuffed your mouth full of him. "Doing so well, love. You can take all of me, yeah?" You nod. He feels you gag when he eases it all down your throat, causing San to groan a little louderâ the tone echoing off the bathroom walls. He keeps his cock down your throat, determining on his own terms when he'll give you time to catch your breath, take a breather. When he pulls your head back, you look up at him with those doe-eyes. And it goes from one moment of sticking his cock back down your throat, to the next moment of you constantly bobbing your head; sucking him off so fucking well.Â
"Awâfuckâ" San hisses before moaning loudly. "So fucking sexy, baby. Made just for me." He breathes out. "Fuck, fuckâ gonna cumâ" It takes that one last moment of taking him fully before San keeps your head there as he shoots his cum down your throat. When he's finished, you slowly pull back and wipe at your mouth, throat feeling all sorts of sore and battered but you could careless.
As long as you made San feel good, that's all you wanted.
"Okay, maybe we need to finish up in here."
"Do we have to?" San smirks, hands rubbing at your waist. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Just wanted to make you feel good, Sannie." The nickname rolls of your lips so naturally San feels his heart soar. It just feels like you were meant to say it, like you're the only person on this Earth that is deserving of so. San doesn't even realize he's still smiling down at you until you kiss him on the lips tenderly and finally taking the lead with getting washed up.
When you get back downstairs, San still can't keep his hands off of you. You sit on the edge of the counter while San washes a few of his containers from lunch. After he finishes, he slots himself in between your legs, admiring you from where he stands. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands are resting on your thighs. He presses cute, repeated kisses along your chin and jaw, causing you to giggle.
"So, I forgot to tell you. I got an email from the department today about my TA assignment."
"Is everything okay?"Â
"I think so."
"You think?"
"I, um." You look at San. "Some of my TA hours are going to Yunho. I had to meet with him really quickly earlier."
"Oh. That's cool, baby." You shake your head and he chuckles. "No?"
"No."
"Don't think about the things that happened. He's still a great professor and someone you'll learn a lot from." You scoff.
"Like what, how to be a bad, homewrecking bestfriend?"
"Baby." He smirks a bit and gently pokes your nose. "Don't do that."
"You're right, sorry." You roll your eyes playfully. "He is cool, I guess." He chuckles.
"Promise me you won't let your feelings get in the way, hm? Look at him as a professor, not from what you know about me." Truthfully, San is a little afraid that you'll be working closely with Yunho now. Not because he's insecure, no. But, working with Yunho meant there was a chance he'd learn more about you. And obviously San wouldn't hide your relationship if he didn't have to, for the sake of rules, policy, his lab, Namjoon even. The fear is stemming from his past, coming back to haunt him all over again. He doesn't trust either of them one bit.
"I should be looking at you as just a professor too, you know?" You tease.
"Oh yeah? Wonder what happened there."
"Kinda like you better like this, though." You giggle, allowing San to swoop you into his arms. You cling on, wrapping your legs and arms around him while he walks you to the couch and sits you on his lap.Â
"Damn, so the whole professor charm didn't do much?"
"Kidding." You laugh.
"Your laugh is so cute." San says, looking up to you all smitten. He rubs at your sides, kissing you sweetly before he's back to just smiling at you.
"What, no?"
"Yeah."
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
"You're just so beautiful, that's all." You smile. "Hm, so. What do you wanna watch? What do you wanna do this weekend since I have you all to myself?"
"Well, we can watch something cute? Because I've been watching this and it's making my mind work overtime with all the possibilities." You look back at the TV and San chuckles.
"I thought you liked stuff like that, baby."
"I do, but tonight, I just wanna relax."
"Fair enough. I'll watch whatever movie you wanna watch."
"Even if its A Walk to Remember or The Notebook?" He nods, bottom lip poking out.
"I don't mind."
"Wow, you're a little too perfect." He laughs.
"Far from it, actually."Â
"And, I don't know. I'm down for whatever this weekend."
"I'll take you around some places away from here."
"Sounds good with me."
"Let's grab our dinner and watch a movie?" He kisses you once more before tapping you on the hip. "Thank you for making dinner, angel."
"Of course." You smile and hop off his lap. You fill your bowls with the udon stir fry and tempura you made, laughing and joking around mid-convo with San as you both walk back to the couch while he's telling you about his day. You pop on the classic Titanic, not really in the mood for anything else popping up on Netflix. San compliments you on dinner, smothering you in more kisses all over your face. You joke about how he didn't have much to work with, so maybe grocery shopping needed to go on your list for this weekend's festivities.
When you're done with dinner, San cleans up in the kitchen while you continue to watch away on the couch, answering to a few texts in between until San comes back to keep you company. Mid-movie, his phone dings, signaling a text coming through.
It's Jongho.
jongho: trying to play tennis this weekend? me and yeosang were thinking about going to the courts then hanging out at his house after.Â
jongho: chris is gonna be busy with his sister this weekend so he's outÂ
jongho: and i asked mingi but i don't think he wants to play lol
san: sorry my guy! sounds fun but i'll be occupied with some things this weekend.
jongho: like what??
san: i'm just behind on a few things, needa wrap it up before the NAS conference.
jongho: hm ok, well the invite is there if things change!
san: thanks! have fun lol
And with that, San locks his phone and continues to watch the movie while your head is on his lap. He looks down at you and smiles a bit to himself, his hand coming down to thread through your hair and give you a gentle head massage. He feels a bit guilty for lying to Jongho, but at the same time, he doesn't.
He's content, he's happy.
Right now, things couldn't feel any more perfect and he'd be damned if he did anything to mess it up.
âread 7.5 here
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this time, iâll love you much better
PAIRING: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader
SUMMARY: after twelve long years, sofia finally got the chance to meet you, and experienced what it was like to feel the love of a mother.
REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.
WARNINGS: talk of divorce, typographical errors, not proofread, and twin switching
WORD COUNT: 9.2k
AUTHORâS NOTE: part 2! this whole chapter focuses on you and sofiaâs bonding or sofia getting to know you more. tag list is open for this series, just leave a comment or you can message me directly. your reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. hope youâll enjoy this second part of the series!
TWO - SINGAPORE
đ€ đđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđđ | đđđđđđđđ | đđđđ đđđđđ âœ
The car smoothly glided down the driveway, passing rows of stately mansions in Nassim Road, each grander than the last. Sofia leaned her head against the window, her heart pounding as the cityscape of Singapore blurred by, until the sleek black car came to a halt in front of a mansion that seemed to belong more to a dream than reality. The house stood tall, regal, with sprawling gardens that framed the entrance like something straight out of a fairytale. Tall columns stretched up toward the sky, and the front door gleamed in the afternoon light, welcoming her, or rather, welcoming Jullianna, home.
Sofia blinked, taking it all in. She could not help but marvel in awe at the elegance of the estate, the manicured lawns, and the sense of quiet luxury that surrounded it. It was overwhelming in the best way, yet also strangely so foreign. This was your world, and it felt like she was about to step into an unfamiliar territory, something foreign that did not quite belong to her, yet it was.
The driver opened the door, and Sofia slid out, her fingers brushing the sleek fabric of her outfit as she caught sight of Martin, the major-domo that she instantly recognized in Julliannaâs chart, was already making his way to the trunk. He was swift and efficient, unloading her luggage with precision. As he lifted her suitcase, Sofia noticed the faint look of recognition on his face, though it was quickly masked with a polite smile as he greeted her.
âWelcome home, Miss Jullianna.â Martin said, tone respectful but warm.
âThank you.â Sofia replied, trying her best to keep her voice steady, mimicking Julliannaâs mannerisms as best as she could.
The name Jullianna sounded so foreign in her mouth, but it was becoming natural as she slipped further into the role. Her heart pounded in her chest as she followed Martin up the entrance, Sofiaâs gaze lingering on the ornate details of the house. The front steps were wide, leading up to an intricately carved door, and as Sofia entered, she could almost feel the weight of all the eyes that must have admired this mansion in the past. With each step she felt like it carried her close to something significantâcloser to you.
Martin opened the door smoothly, and Sofia stepped inside. The foyer before her was vast and sun-filled, with high ceilings that seemed to stretch endlessly. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, their polished surface reflecting the soft light that poured in through large windows. Sofia paused for a moment to take in the grandeur of it all, the house felt immense, each corner more beautiful than the last. There were towering columns lining the space, delicate chandeliers hanging overhead, their crystal pendants glinting as they caught the sunlight.
Sofiaâs eyes were drawn to the walls, which were adorned with expertly framed photographs, each one carefully placed to tell a story of the family within. Her breath caught as she saw the portraits of Jullianna, some with her as a little girl, others of her dressed in elegant gowns at galas, always smiling, and always poised. Then there were the more professional shotsâcovers of Tatler Asia, Harperâs Bazaar, and Vogue, with you gracing the glossy pages, each picture exuding an effortless grace.
But the one that caught her attention the most was the grand portrait in the center of the room. It was you and Jullianna, a moment frozen in time, with the both of you dressed in high-end fashion, your faces glowing with affection. Sofia couldnât help but stare at it, her eyes tracing the lines of your face, and with how you held Jullianna close, the bond between you was very evident, and it made her chest tighten.
Sofia was so lost in thought, absorbing these fragments of life she had never lived, that she didnât hear the sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase behind her.
âJullianna!â Your voice called out, warm and delighted.
Sofia froze for a moment, the sound of her nameâJulliannaâs name, breaking through her thoughts. She turned around, and there you were, walking down the marble staircase with a radiant smile on your face.
The sight of you stunned Sofia. You were more beautiful than any photograph could have captured. Graceful and poised, yet full of life, you seemed almost ethereal as the sunlight streaming through the windows cast a soft glow around you. Sofiaâs breath caught in her throat as tears immediately pricked her eyes. She could not believe it, she was finally seeing youânot just in the photos, or stories that Jullianna had shared, but in real life. In the flesh.
âOh, my darling girl!â You said, brimming with emotions, with outstretched arms as you hurried towards her.
Sofia moved toward you instinctively, meeting you halfway as you enveloped her in a warm hug. The moment your arms wrapped around her, she felt her resolve begin to crumble. She blinked rapidly, but it was no use. The tears were already spilling down her cheeks.
âI missed you so much.â Sofia whispered, her voice trembling as she buried her face in your shoulder.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to get a good look at her, and your expression shifted from happiness to surprise as you took in her brand new appearance. Your hands rested gently on her shoulders as you studied her closely.
âYour hair,â you said, eyes wide with astonishment. âItâs short! It looks so good on you!â
âI met someone at camp who cuts hair,â she said, managing a watery smile, her hand brushing self-consciously over the ends of her freshly cropped hair. âDo you hate it?â
âHate it?â You repeated, shaking your head with a laugh. âDarling, it suits you beautifully. I think it makes you look so grown-up.â
âWait a second,â you leaned in closer, inspecting her ears. âAre those piercings I see? Since when?â
Sofiaâs fingers instinctively flew to her earlobes, which were now adorned with delicate studs. âUm, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing at camp. Do you hate those?â
You laughed softly, shaking your head again. âNo, no. Itâs just my Jullianna, afraid of needles? I canât believe you went through with it.â
âNo more surprises, I promise.â She chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of your gaze as you took her in, still marveling at the changes.
But your expression softened as you noticed the tears still glistening in her eyes. You knelt down to her level, cupping Sofiaâs face gently in your hands.
âWhatâs wrong, my love?â You asked, your voice low and soothing. With your thumbs, you wiped away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. âWhy are you crying?â
Sofiaâs bottom lip trembled slightly, and for a moment, she hesitated, really unsure how to explain the emotions surging within her.
âItâs justâŠhappy tears,â she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. âI missed you so much. It feels like itâs been forever.â
âOh, my sweet girl.â You murmured, pulling her close again, and pressing a tender kiss to her temple. âI missed you too. But youâre home now, and thatâs all that matters.â
Sofia clung to you tightly, her eyes closed as she tried to commit the moment to memory. For so long, she had dreamed about this, what it would be like to meet you, to feel your embrace. Now that it was finally happening, it felt both overwhelming and comforting all at once. You stood up and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
âCome, letâs sit and catch up. I want to hear all about camp.â You said, tone full of curiosity and warmth.
You and Sofia sat together in the sun-dappled room, it is the room where you always retreat to whenever you need time to breathe when things tend to get overwhelming. The warm light was spilling through the large bay windows and casting a soft glow over the space. Sofia, seated on the plush velvet armchair across from you, couldnât help but marvel at how effortlessly elegant everything was, from the carefully arranged floral centerpieces to the soft ticking of the antique clock on the mantel. This was the kind of life she had only seen in movies, and now, she was here, living it, even if just for a little while.
You poured tea into a delicate porcelain cup, the soft clinking of the silver spoon against the cup filling the air as you stirred in a bit of honey.
âSo, tell me, darling,â you began, voice soft yet curious. âHow was summer camp, did you enjoy it as much as you hoped you would?â
âI loved it,â Sofia said with a radiant smile that mirrored Julliannaâs perfectly. âIt was so much fun. I didnât think Iâd like it this much, but it was even better that I expected.â
You leaned forward slightly, your eyes lighting up with relief and excitement. âOh, Iâm so glad to hear that! I was a little worried, you know. It was your first time going away for so long, and I wasnât sure how you would manage being away from home.â
Sofia nodded, playing along so effortlessly. âWell, it was definitely a bit scary at first, but everyone was so welcoming. I made a lot of friends.â
âDid you like everyone there?â You asked, your tone gently probing.
âYes, everyone was really really nice,â she said, voice laced with enthusiasm. âI even met a girl, sheâs from Spain.â
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. âSpain? My goodness, thatâs quite far. I hope her parents didnât mind sending her all the way there for camp.â
âOh, they didnât mind,â she assured you quickly. âSheâs been going to Camp Walden since she was ten, so itâs kind of like a tradition for her.â
Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. âSince she was ten? Thatâs incredible! She must really love it there.â
âShe does,â Sofia replied, nodding earnestly. âShe told me all about how much she looks forward to it every year. She even showed me some pictures from past summers, sheâs made so many memories there.â
You smiled, clearly touched by the story. âThatâs wonderful, Lia. You know, Iâm so happy you made such a lovely friend. It sounds like camp was a great experience for you.â
Sofia felt a pang of guilt in her chest but quickly pushed it aside. She could feel your pride in her, or rather, in Julliannaâand she did not want to ruin this moment.
âIt really was,â she said softly, looking down at her hands. âThank you for letting me go. I know you were hesitant in sending me to summer camp, but it was one of the best memories that Iâve made.â
âIâm really proud of you, darling,â you said, voice warm and full of affection, and reaching out, placing a gentle hand over hers. âItâs not always easy to try something new, especially something that takes you out of your comfort zone. But look at you! Youâve come back with wonderful stories and new friends. Iâm so glad I agreed on Camp Walden, it sounds like it was just what you needed.â
Her heart swelled at your words. It was strange, hearing you call her darling, feeling the warmth of your hand over hers. Sofia had never experienced this before, this maternal tenderness, yeah sure, she always had a nanny growing up, but this one was different, and it made her feel a little sad. She wanted to soak in every moment, to etch every word and gesture into her memory.
âThanks, Mama,â she said quietly, the word feeling foreign yet oddly right on her tongue. She looked up at you, he eyes glistening with emotion. âThat really means a lot.â
You tilted your head, studying her for a moment, and asked her gently. âAre you alright, sweetheart? You seemâŠa little emotional.â
âIâm justâŠhappy,â she admitted, swallowing hard, willing herself not to cry. âItâs been a while since I felt this happy.â
âOh, my love,â you murmured as you squeezed her hand reassuringly. âThatâs all I ever want for you, to be happy, and if camp helped you find a little more of that, then I couldnât be more thrilled.â
Sofia smiled through the tears that threatened to spill over. For the first time in her life, she felt what it was like to truly have a mother, and she wanted to hold on to this feeling forever.
âI donât want this to end.â she whispered to herself, the words echoing in her mind like a quiet prayer.
âAre you sure youâre really okay, darling?â You asked again, tone laced with concern.
âIâm okay,â Sofia said, her voice steady this time. âReally. I just missed you so much.â
âOh, sweetheart,â you said softly, pulling her into a warm embrace. The simplicity of her words caught you off guard. âI missed you too. More than you can imagine.â
As Sofia rested her head against your shoulder, she closed her eyes, wishing this moment could stretch on forever. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged.
The quiet rhythm of the room settled over you, you both sat in the living room, the warm silence punctuated by the occasional rustle of the breeze brushing against the windows. For you, these silences were familiar. Julliannaâyour Jullianna, often fell into these comfortable quiet moments, lost in thought or simply content to sit beside you.
But this silence was different for Sofia. She found herself reveling in it, soaking up the warmth of a moment she had longed for her entire life. She shifted slightly in her seat, glancing toward you.
âHave you ever been to Spain, Mama?â She asked suddenly, he voice soft but curious.
âSpain?â You repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with an air of nostalgia you did not intend to show.
A rush of memories, long buried, flooded back without any warningâmemories of warm Spanish evenings, laughter mingled with the crash of waves, and Fernandoâs voice, full of excitement as he guided you through his homeland. You pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they came, sitting a little straighter in your seat.
âYes. A long time ago, before you were born.â You said quickly, tone even, and offering a small smile. âWhy do you ask?â
She hesitated for a moment, studying your face. Sofia could see the flicker of something, something wistful, maybe even a little painful, but she decided not to push.
âI was just curious.â She said simply, giving a small shrug.
âWell,â you said, your tone lightened as you leaned forward slightly. âSpeaking of things from the past, thereâs something we need to talk about thatâs coming up very soonâyour birthday!â
âMy birthday?â She echoed, tilting her head. She was caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. âBut itâs still a month away.â
âExactly!â You replied with a soft laugh, your eyes sparkling with excitement. âItâs still a month away, which means we need to start planning now. You know how quickly the days go by, and I want it to be perfect for you. Whatever you want to do, itâs your day, and weâll make it happen.â
Sofia blinked again, her heart suddenly heavy with an unfamiliar ache. The way you spoke, with such earnestness and love, caught her off guard. She was not used to thisâthis kind of anticipation, this kind of care. She glanced down at her hands, fiddling nervously with the hem of her clothes.
âIâŠI donât know yet,â she admitted quietly. âI havenât really thought about it.â
âThatâs okay, sweetheart,â you said softly. âYou donât have to decide right now. But I want you to know that whatever you want, weâll make it happen. A party, a quiet day just for the two of us, a trip, just whatever your heart desires. Itâs your special day, and I want you to enjoy it.â
âThank you,â she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. âThat means a lot.â
You squeezed her hand gently, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. âOf course, darling. Youâre my world, and I want to celebrate every moment we have together. Just let me know when youâve decided, okay?â
âI will, Mama.â Sofia whispered.
True to your word, you had cleared your schedule for the day to make time for Sofia, but you could not cancel this one commitment. As you gathered your things by the foyer, you turned to Sofia with a smile.
âI really tried to cancel this too, but itâs for Tatler Asia, and they were so insistent. I hope you donât mind tagging along.â You said warmly.
Sofia shook her hear quickly, her face lighting up. âAre you kidding? Of course Iâd love to come, Mama.â
You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. âWell, Iâm glad youâre excited. Letâs make it a fun day, then. Just us girls.â
The family driver pulled up to the front, and soon the two of you were on your way to the photoshoot venue. The drive to the venue was quiet but comfortable, with the air filled with the unspoken warmth of having reconnected. Sofia gazed out of the window, watching the city buzz with life, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She still could not believe she was here, sitting beside you, going with you to a real photoshoot.
This was a world she had never seen before, and the excitement bubbled inside her like a secret she could not contain. As the car pulled up to the venue, Sofiaâs eye widened at the sight of the gran building in front of her. The polished exterior gleamed in the afternoon sun, and the large glass doors reflected the bustling activity inside. Everything felt so glamorous, so different from her life in Spain. She glanced over at you as you instructed the family driver.
âThank you, James,â you said with a polite smile. âYou can head home now. Weâll be walking around the city right after and taking the taxi home later.â
James nodded and gave you a small bow before driving off. Sofia looked at you with a mix of Surprise and curiosity.
âWeâre walking?â She asked, voice tinged with amusement.
âSometimes, itâs nice to just walk. No schedules, no rush, just taking in the beauty the city has to offer.â You smiled warmly at her. Sofia nodded, her heart swelling at how grounded and graceful you were despite your glamorous life.
Inside, the studio was a hive of activity. The smell of hairspray and perfume hung in the air, blending with the faint hum of conversation and occasional clutter of equipment. Staff members hurried past, some carrying garment bags, others adjusting camera gears. The energy was infectious, and Sofia found herself wide-eyed, taking in every detail. When you stepped inside, a stylist approached you, clipboard in hand.
âYouâre just in time,â she said, ushering you towards the back. âWeâre ready for you in hair and makeup.â
You glanced at Sofia, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, leading her through the bustling crowd. âCome with me.â
In the makeup area, you settled into a high-backed chair as a team of stylists swarmed around you, discussing everything from your hair to the gown that you would be wearing for the photoshoot. Your assistant, a petite woman in her late 20s, with a sharp bob and an even sharper memory, appeared at your side, iPad in hand.
âGood day,â she greeted with a bright smile. âYou look stunning already, as always.â
âGood day, Camille,â you replied, returning her smile. âLetâs hear it, what does the rest of my week look like?â
Camille began rattling off your schedule, her tone brisk yet pleasant. âAfter todayâs shoot, youâre free for the rest of the day. But tomorrow, you have fittings for the New York Fashion WeekâVersace and Valentino. Thursday is the campaign shoot for Dior, followed by a meeting with YSL, and lastly, Saturday is the charity luncheon at the Ritz.â
As she spoke, Sofia listened intently, trying to absorb every little detail. Camille suddenly turned to her, her face lighting up at the sight of Sofia.
âAnd Jullianna! Itâs so good to see you again,â Camille said warmly. âItâs been a while since you came along to one of these, Iâve missed having you around.â
Sofia blinked, like a deer caught in the headlights, but managed to recover quickly. She returned the smile, her mind racing.
So, Jullianna usually comes to these things?
âItâs good to see you too, Camille,â Sofia said, her voice steady. âIâve missed coming with Mama. Itâs been a very busy summer for me. You know, summer camp and all.â
Camille nodded, clearly pleased. âIâve been told. Well, youâre always such a delight to have around. Your mom lights up even more when youâre here.â
Sofia nodded, unsure of how to respond but touched by the sentiment. âIâm happy to be back, honestly, and it wasnât a lie.â
You glanced at Sofia through the mirror, noticing how she was quietly observing everything. âShe was very excited to come with me today, Iâm glad sheâs back again.â
Camille smiled. âYou two are always such a team.â
Sofia felt a pang in her chest at those words. She glanced down, her fingers brushing over the hem of her skirt as she tried to process the unexpected emotions rising within her.
You reached out and gently touched her arm. âAre you alright, darling?â
She looked up and nodded quickly, giving you a small smile. âIâm fine. Everything just feels so exciting.â
âIâm glad youâre here with me. Itâs a little chaotic, but itâs also wonderful, isnât it?â You smiled at her, eyes softening.
Sofia nodded again, her smiling growing. âIt really is.â
The stylists gave your hair one last spritz of hairspray and made minor adjustments to the hem of your gown before stepping back. Your final look was stunning, and you took a moment to admire yourself in front of the floor length mirror, running your hands gently down the shimmering fabric. Turning towards Sofia, you gave her a playful smile.
âSo,â you said, spinning in place. âWhat do you think? Is it too much? Too over the top?â
âNo way!â She exclaimed, her voice full of awe. âYou look amazing, Mama! Really, really beautiful.â
You chuckled at her enthusiasm, stopping mid-spin to face her. âYou sure? I donât want to look like Iâm trying too hard.â
âAre you kidding? You look perfect!â Sofia said with conviction, her admiration shining through every word. She leaned forward in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. âSeriously, youâre likeâŠa queen of something.â
The photographer called out, signaling that the photoshoot was about to begin. You blew a quick kiss to Sofia before stepping into position. The backdrop was a blend of muted grays and soft metallics, designed to compliment your gown. As the lights were adjusted and the photographer gave instructions, Sofia watched you in complete fascination. Every pose you struck, every subtle shift in expression, left her star struck.
âSheâs so so cool. I can't believe sheâs my Mama.â She whispered to herself and smiled as she leaned back on her chair.
Halfway through the shoot, the photographer suggested a more candid, relaxed pose. You turned to Sofia, an idea sparking in your mind,
âCome here, sweetheart.â You said as you extended your hand to her.
Sofia blinked, pointing at herself. âMe? Now?â
âYes, you!â You said with a laugh. âCome on, itâll be fun.â
Hesitant but intrigued, Sofia stood up and approached you. She looked out of place in her casual outfit compared to your glamorous attire, but the contrast made the moment all the more genuine.
You placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close, whispering softly. âJust be yourself, okay?â
The photographer, already adjusting his camera, grinned. âThis is perfect! Just keep talking to each other, forget that the camera is even here.â
You started joking with Sofia, recounting a funny memory from one of your past photoshoots. Sofia couldnât help but laugh, her nerves easing as she leaned into you. Before long, the two of you were caught up in an impromptu momentâlaughing, smiling, and even pulling silly faces. At one point, you pretended to teach her how to pose, guiding her arm into an exaggerated fashion stance that made the both of you burst into laughter. The photographer snapped away, capturing every genuine smile.
âBeautiful!â He said, nodding approvingly. âAbsolutely beautiful.â
When the session wrapped, you turned to the photographer, still holding Sofia close. âCan I request something? Could you email me all of these candid shots? I want them framed, every single one.â
âOf course,â the photographer replied, clearly charmed by the two of you. âIâll make sure you get them by the end of the day.â
Sofia looked up at you, her face glowing. âYouâre really going to frame them?â
âAbsolutely,â you said without hesitation. âTheyâre perfect. Iâll put them right in the hallway with the rest of our photos. What do you think?â
She nodded eagerly, a rare lump forming in her throat. âI think thatâsâŠreally nice.â
You then changed back into your everyday clothes, a chic yet understated outfit that looked impossibly elegant. Before leaving, you took a moment to thank every member of the crew.
âWonderful job, as always,â you said warmly. âI really appreciate all your hard work.â
âIâll email you the final documents for the new endorsements this evening,â Camille said efficiently as she caught up with you. âAnd Iâll also send over your finalized schedule for the New York Fashion Week.â
âThank you, Camille,â you replied and grabbed your things. âLet me know if something else comes up.â
The sun was warm but not overwhelming as you and Sofia strolled through the bustling streets in the afternoon towards Paragon. The city was alive with energy, cars humming, scent of fresh coffee wafting from nearby cafĂ©s, and the occasional breeze rustling through the trees that lined the sidewalks. You slipped your arms around Sofiaâs shoulder, drawing her close as the two of you walked side by side.
âMama,â she began hesitantly, âhave you ever thought about getting married again?â
The question had caught you off guard, and you stopped mid-step, turning to face her with an incredulous expression.
âNow where did that come from?â You asked. Laughing lightly, though there was a hint of nervousness in your tone.
âI donât know,â she admitted. âYou looked so beautiful in that gown during the photoshoot, it just made me wonder. I mean, youâd look amazing as a bride. Like, really really amazing.â
âAre you imagining me walking down the aisle again?â You teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
Sofia hesitated, then ventured further. âNot exactly, but it also made me wonder what kind of gown you wore. You know, the first time.â
âOh?â You said, raising a brow. âWhy the curiosity about your father?â
âBecause youâve never really talked about him,â she said softly as she looked up at you. âNot once, and well, I guess I canât help but wonder.â
You sighed, the weight of her question settling over you like a delicate cloud. Before you could answer, your eyes caught sight of a stunning dress displayed in a boutique window up ahead, its elegant silhouette shimmering under the soft glow of the lights. You instinctively reached out to tug Sofiaâs arm, pointing towards the window.
âOh, look at that dress,â you said, voice lighter as you momentarily shifted focus. âIsnât it stunning?â
Sofia blinked at you, her question hanging in the air as you walked closer to the boutique window. She gave a small, exasperated sigh, realizing what you were doing.
âMama,â she said firmly but respectfully, stopping you in your tracks. When you turned to face her, her expression was a mix of determination and understanding. âYou canât avoid the topic forever.â
You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped you. It was not confrontational or accusing, it was patient and curious. Sighing again, this time deeper, you nodded.
âAlright,â you relented, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. âWhat do you want to know?â
âWhat was he like?â Sofia asked immediately, tone soft but eager. She already knew what Fernando is like, but she wanted to hear it coming from you.
âWell, he was a lovely man. Very lovely,â you said, lips curled into a small smile, nostalgic smile as you thought about him. âCharming in his own way. He had thisâŠpresence about him that could light up a room.â
âDid you meet him here? In Singapore?â Sofia pressed.
âNo,â you said as you shook your head. âI met him in London, during the British Grand Prix in Silverstone.â
Sofiaâs brows furrowed slightly in surprise. Grand Prix was basically her whole life. âThe Grand Prix? What were you doing there?â
âBecause of your grandpa,â you explained, âyour grandpapa was one of the major sponsors of the race that year. He insisted I accompany him to the event, it wasnât really my scene back then, but he had his reasons for wanting me there.â
Just then, you reached the doors of a quaint little café tucked away from the main bustle of Paragon. Its inviting atmosphere beckoned, and you instinctively led Sofia inside. The two of you found a cozy corner table near a window, the gentle hum of conversation and the soft clinking of cups creating a warm background noise.
Once seated, you ordered drinks, an iced latte for yourself and a hot chocolate for Sofia, a few pastries as well. The server left with a polite nod, and Sofia turned her full attention back to you, her curiosity far from satisfied.
âSo,â she said, leaning her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands. âWhat happened next?â
You raised a brow at her, a small smile playing on your lips. âYouâre really not going to let this go, are you?â
She grinned cheekily, shaking her head. âNot a chance.â
âAlright, alright,â you said, chuckling and shaking your head at her persistence. âItâs quite a story.â
Sofia leaned forward slightly, her excitement evident. âTake your time, Mama. I want to hear everything.â
Your drinks had already been served at your table, and the hum of the café enveloped you and Sofia as you settled comfortably into your chairs, the delicate aroma of the fresh pastries mingling with the scent of coffee. Your iced latte and her steaming hot chocolate sat untouched between you, but neither of you seemed to notice. The weight of your ongoing conversation carried a different kind of warmth, one that softened the atmosphere between you.
âItâs funny,â you began, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile, âI wasnât even supposed to leave your grandpapaâs side. He made it very clear that day I was to stay in the paddock with him, but I got bored and decided to wander around, and somehow, I got lost.â You chuckled softly at the memory.
âYou? Lost?â She asked, her eyes wide with amusement, and tone teasing but affectionate. âI thought you were always composed and knew your way around everywhere.â
âOh, how I wish,â you replied with a laugh. âSilverstone is a maze, especially when itâs packed, and I didnât know a single soul. I was looking around, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go, and then I bumped right into him.â
âPapa?â She asked, voice tinged with excitement.
You nodded. âYes. I nearly knocked the drink he was holding out of his hand. I was so flustered, apologizing left and right, and he just stood there, smiling at me.â
âSmiling, huh.â She smiled, trying to picture the moment.
âYes,â you said, your gaze softening. âThat smile of his, it was so warm and easy going. He looked at me like we had known each other forever, and then he introduced himself, as if I didnât already know who he was from the posters around the paddock.â
Sofia giggled, clearly amused. âWhat did you say? Did you fangirl or something?â
You shook your head, laughing at the thought. âNo, no. I was too embarrassed to even react. I just said, âIâm so sorry,â and tried to walk away, but he stopped me, asked me if I was lost, and when I said yes, he offered to help.â
Sofia tilted her head thoughtfully. âSo, what happened next?â
âWe spent the rest of the day together,â you said, tone quieter now as you trace the lid of your drink. âHe showed me around, introduced me to some of his team, and even made sure I found your grandpapa again. But by the time he brought me back, I didnât want the day to end.â
Sofia studied you for a moment, then asked. âWas it love at first sight?â
âI knew youâd ask me that someday, you cheeky little girl!â You laughed and gave her a knowing look. âBut yes, it was indeed love at first sight.â
Sofia grinned, clearly delighted by your response. âWell, I mean I canât blame you, Papa is very handsome.â
âHe was more than just being a handsome man,â you admitted. âHe was kind, charming, and so full of life. It was impossible not to be drawn to him.â
Sofia leaned her chin on her hand, watching you intently. âSo, what happened after that? Did you live together?â
You nodded, your expression thoughtful. âYes. Your Papa was from Spain, and after a few months of dating, we decided to take the next step. I made the biggest decision of my life, I moved to Spain to be with him.â
âWow,â Sofia breathed, her eyes wide with admiration. âThatâs huge. You just packed up and left?â
âPretty much,â you replied with a soft laugh. âI uprooted my life. Wherever he went, I went. It wasnât easy leaving everything behindâyour grandpapa, and my friends, but it felt so right. Home wasnât a place anymore, it was wherever he was.â
She hesitated for a moment before asking. âAnd then what?â
âThree days after I moved in with him, he proposed.â Your smile widened as you remembered.
âWhat?!â Sofiaâs jaw dropped. âThree days?!â She was shocked, and unfamiliar with Fernandoâs game.
You laughed, nodding. âThree days. He said he didnât want to wait any longer, and honestly? Neither did I. We got married not long after that, and then, we had you.â
Sofiaâs expression softened, and she looked down at her hot chocolate, stirring it absentmindedly. âThatâsâŠamazing. It sounds like a complete fairytale.â
âIt felt like one,â you admitted, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. âAnd you were the best part of it.â
All your life, you always try to avoid talking about Fernando with your daughter. It was the most painful memory for you, but your daughter was right, you canât avoid talking about it forever, evading or making so many excuses as to why you canât talk about Fernando. Especially now that your daughter is already grown up, she deserves to know about her father. It will be very selfish of you if you keep on avoiding it.
âBut you know, being married isnât always what the movies make it out to be,â you said, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of sadness. âItâs not all rainbows and sunshine, no matter how much you love someone.â
âWhat do you mean, Mama?â She asked, tone gentle but eager to understand.
You laced your fingers together on the table, your gaze drifting for a moment, as if the memories were replaying in front of you.
âYour Papa and I, we had a wonderful start. The kind of love that people dream about. But life has a way of testing even the strongest bonds.â You paused, meeting her gaze. âBoth of us had demanding careers. My career wasnât exactly stationary, I was always flying to another country for events, galas, photoshoots, and your Papa, he was flying all over the world for races.â
âIt felt like we were always moving but never in the same direction. We were always missing each otherâs milestones, each otherâs days. We tried to hold on, we really did.â
âWhat did you do?â Sofia asked softly, her voice tinged with concern.
You sighed, leaning forward slightly as you rested your elbows on the table. âWe tried everything we could think of. Marriage counseling, for one. We sat in those sessions and poured our hearts out, hoping that somehow, talking through everything would bring us closer again.â
âDid it help?â Sofia asked cautiously, as if she were afraid of the answer.
âFor a little while,â you admitted. âIt gave us the tools to communicate better, to understand each otherâs needs and frustrations. But it wasnât enough, there was just too much distance, literal and emotional.â
Her expression softened, and she traced her finger along the rim of her cup. âThat mustâve been really hard.â
âIt was, and after counseling didnât work, we tried going away on a trip. We thought that maybe if we stepped away from everythingâwork, schedules, the stress, it would help. A beautiful place, with just the two of us, no distractions. It was nice, butâŠâ you shook your head slightly, a wistful smile playing on your lips. âYou canât expect a trip to fix something thatâs broken.â
You sat up straighter, your tone steady despite the heaviness of the memory. âWe realized we were holding onto something that wasnât working anymore. We still cared about each other deeply, but the truth was, we werenât as compatible as we thought weâd be, and before things got worse, we made the hardest decision we could make.â
Sofiaâs eyes glimmered with understanding, though a hint of sadness lingered in her expression. âYou decided to let go.â
âYes,â you replied quietly. âWe decided to put a stop to it before we hurt each other more. It was mutual, we both knew that it was the right thing to do, even if it was painful. Sometimes love isnât enough to make a marriage work.â
âThat mustâve been really hard for you,â she said softly, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours. âFor both you and Papa.â
âIt was,â you admitted, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. âBut we did what we thought was best for everyone involved, and even though things didnât work out between us, there was one thing we always agreed on.â
Sofia tilted her head, her curiosity evident. âWhatâs that?â
âThat you were the best thing to ever come out of our time together,â you said with a small smile. âWe both loved you more than anything in the world. That never changed.â
âIâm glad that you told me, Mama,â she said after a moment, lips curved into a faint smile, and she looked down at your intertwined hands. âIâve always wondered, and it makes sense now.â
âIâm glad you asked,â you said softly. âI know that itâs not the fairytale story that most people hope for, but itâs ours, and Iâm glad that you know.â
The hours in the cafĂ© passed by so fast, with the two of you lost in conversation. Occasionally, someone would approach you, their voice tinged with both awe and respect as they asked for a photo. You always obliged with a warm smile, and Sofia watched quietly, her gaze filled with mixture of admiration and curiosity. Once, a woman gushed about how lovely it was to see you out with your daughter, her compliment bringing a soft smile to Sofiaâs face.
âDo you get tired of it?â She asked softly as you sat back down.
âOf what?â You replied, reaching for your drink.
âPeople stopping you everywhere.â She tilted her head slightly, observing you as though trying to decipher your thoughts.
âNot really. Iâm grateful for their kindness. Besides,â You said, offering her a gentle smile, and gesturing between the two of you. âMoments like this are far more important to me.â
Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she dropped her gaze to the table. âI like this too.â
When the café began to empty and the staff subtly started cleaning up for the night, you leaned back in your chair, glancing at your watch and sighed contentedly.
âI think weâve been here for long enough,â you said. âItâs already getting late, and we should probably head back.â
âWhat about the shopping spree?â Sofia asked, her tone hesitant.
You reached over, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. âWeâll do it tomorrow, after my fittings. I promised you, didnât I?â
âBut youâll be tired,â she reasoned, her voice soft with concern, but firm. âI donât want you to overdo it.â
You smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. âSweetheart, Iâm never too tired for you. If I was, I wouldnât have promised. Youâre my priority.â
âOkay.â She murmured, looking down on her empty cup, still sounding unsure.
âHey,â you said, reaching across the table to gently take her hand. âItâs not a big deal. I love spending time with you, and besides, I want to spoil you.â You added with a wink.
Sofia let out a soft laugh at that, finally meeting your eyes. âAlright, but only if youâre really sure.â
âAbsolutely,â you said with conviction, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
By the time you stepped outside, the sky had turned into a deep shade of navy, the city illuminated by the glow of streetlights and neon signs. The streets were alive with energy, people bustling about, and the faint hum of conversations blending with the occasional honk of a car horn.
As you walked side by side, you instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Sofia didnât resist, leaning into your touch as the two of you strolled through the vibrant cityscape.
âSingapore at night is something else.â She said softly, her eyes flicking from the lights above to the people around.
âIt really is,â you agreed, your gaze sweeping over the bustling streets. âYears of living here with you and it is still one of my favorite things about being here, how alive everything feels, no matter the hour.â
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. âItâs beautiful.â
The two if you continued in companionable silence, your steps unhurried. You glanced at her occasionally, your heart swelling with affection at how relaxed and eased she seemed. Spotting an available taxi, you raised your hand to hail it, guiding her gently toward the curb. The car pulled up smoothly, and you opened the door for her, gesturing to her to get in first.
âIn you go, darling.â you said as you put your hand over her head.
âThank you.â She said quietly, sliding into the backseat.
You followed, settling in beside her, greeting the driver, and giving him your address. As the car began to move, you leaned back against the seat, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Sofia, whom you believed to be Jullianna, shifted closer, resting her head lightly against your shoulder.
âYouâre really not tired?â She asked after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper.
âNot at all,â you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. âSpending time with you will always be the best part of my day.â
Sofia didnât say anything, but you felt her body relax against you, her hand slipping into yours. The quiet hum of the taxi and the soft glow of the city outside made the moment feel almost dreamlike, a perfect ending to a perfect day.
When the taxi pulled up to the house, the golden lights from the grand windows spilled out onto the driveway, casting a warm and welcoming glow. As you and Sofia stepped out, the heavy front doors swung open, Martin greeted you with a slight bow.
âGood evening, madame. Welcome home.â He said, voice calm and measured as always. Behind him, a few housekeepers stood ready, their smiles polite but genuine.
âThank you, Martin,â you said, offering a smile as you removed your heels and put them on the rack, changing into your indoor slippers. âItâs good to be back.â
Sofia stood slightly behind you, still taking in the familiar grandeur of the house, standing here still felt surreal for her. The subtle hum of efficiency in the house was comforting yet intimidating.
One of the housekeepers stepped forward and spoke gently. âMadame, all of Miss Julliannaâs laundry from camp has been taken care of and put away.â
âThank you so much,â you turned to her with a grateful expression. âI really appreciate it, I hope it wasnât quite the task.â
The housekeeper smiled, shaking her head modestly. âNot at all, madame. Weâre happy to help.â
You then turned to Sofia, who had been quietly observing, and placed a hand on her shoulder. âShweetheart, itâs getting late. Go ahead and get ready for bed, alright?â
Sofia froze momentarily, panic bubbling beneath her composed exterior. Whereâs Julliannaâs room? The floor plan Jullianna had shown her briefly flashed in her mind, but the details were hazy. Upstairs, she was certain of it, the bedroom was upstairs. That much she remembered.
âUh, okay!â Sofia said quickly, her voice an octave higher than usual. She gave you a quick kiss on the cheeks, and stepped back, addressing everyone as she spoke. âGood night!â
She turned on her heel and started towards the staircase, her movements quick and almost robotic. You watched her with a bemused smile, tilting your head slightly.
âGoodnight, darling!â You called after her, shaking your head lightly. âShe must be exhausted.â You murmured to Martin, who gave a small nod in agreement.
âUnderstandable, madame,â Martin said smoothly. âIt had been quite a long day for her.â
You chuckled softly and made your way toward the sitting room, while Sofia darted up the staircase with determination.
As Sofia reached the landing, she slowed her pace, looking back just in case Martin or a housekeeper had followed her. Her eyes darting to the left and right, the hallways stretched out in both directions, doors lining either side, each one identical to the next.
Which one is hers?
She hesitated for a moment, checking again as glancing over the bannister to ensure no one was watching. Then, she steeled herself and chose a direction at random, heading down the hall with feigned confidence.
If I just open doors discreetly, Iâll figure it outâŠhopefully.
She stopped in front of the first door, her hand hovering over the knob. Taking a deep breath, she slowly twisted it and peeked inside. The room was dark, but from what little she could see, it didnât look lived-in. Definitely not Julliannaâs. Quickly closing the door, she moved to the next one, her heart racing slightly faster.
Come on, it has to be one of these.
By sheer luck, or perhaps Julliannaâs divine intervention, the next door she opened revealed a room that looked distinctly like Julliannaâs. The walls were adorned with personal touchesâframed photos, art pieces, and trophies from school competitions. Sofia exhaled deeply, relief flooding through her as she stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her.
âFinally,â she whispered to herself, leaning back against the door for a moment.
Her gaze swept over the room, and a small smile tugged at her lips. This is where she lives, where she sleeps. As Sofia settled herself into Julliannaâs room, she couldnât help but marvel at the sheer size and elegance of it.
The room felt like something out of a luxury magazine, spacious, meticulously organized, and exuding a quiet sophistication that perfectly encapsulated Julliannaâs personality. Curiosity tugged at her as she wandered over to one of the doors on the side of the room. Thatâs probably just the bathroom, she thought, twisting the handles. Her jaw dropped.
It was not just a bathroom, it was a walk-in closet. A massive walk-in closet. Rows upon rows of clothes hung neatly on gold-accented racks, organized by color, season, and occasion. Everything was pristine, almost as though no one ever touched anything. Beneath the racks were drawers labeled with words like scarves, belts, and hats.
âWhat in the worldâŠâ Sofia muttered under her breath, stepping further inside.
Her fingers trailed lightly over the fabrics, feeling the silks, cottons, and other materials she could not even identify. Sofiaâs gaze moved up to the shelves where dozens of handbags sat like prized trophies, each one gleaming under the soft, warm lighting.
Then her eyes fell to the section dedicated entirely to sleepwearârows of satin and cotton pajamas, all perfectly folded and hung. She let out a small, incredulous laugh.
âDoes she even wear the same thing twice? Or is that against her personal code?â Sofia murmured to herself, raising an eyebrow as she scanned the collection. It seemed endless. âI swear, Iâm gonna roast her so bad for this when we talk.â
She shook her head, smiling to herself as she made a mental note to bring this up with Jullianna during their next facetime call.
Turning around, she noticed an entire wall dedicated to shoes. There were flats, heels, boots, and sneakersâall lined up like soldiers awaiting inspection. She walked over, admiring them one by one, and picking up a pair of platform heels.
âDoes she even wear all of these? Or do they just sit here looking pretty?â She muttered under her breath.
She walked further, admiring them one by one. The thought crossed her mind to try on a few pairs, but she resisted. Instead, she quietly thanked the universe that she and Jullianna wore the same size. At least I wonât trip over heels that are too big for me.
Sofia wandered back out of the closet, still amazed, and moved to the other door. This time, she was right, it was the bathroom.
âOkay, this is just ridiculous.â She whispered.
It was not just any bathroom. This was a bathroom that could rival those in five-star hotels. The marble floors gleamed under the recessed lighting, and a large soaking tub stood in the center, surrounded by candles and neatly arranged bath products. There was even a rainfall shower with walls of glass, and two vanities stocked with an array of high-end skincare products.
âOf course her bathroom is this fancy. Why wouldnât it be for a pompous ass like her.â Sofia chuckled, the nickname from camp already sticking with her. âWho even needs two vanities? Well, she does.â She opened a few drawers, curious but cautious, noting how every little thing had its place.
After taking it all in, she made her way back to the main room and sat on the edge of the bed. Sofiaâs carefree, camp-spirited self could not help but feel a little out of place in the polished and prim world Jullianna belonged. Their difference in style and personality became glaringly obvious as she thought how she was supposed to pull this off. She sighed, standing up and glancing towards the closet again.
How does she even decide on an outfit every day? Her mind wandered over the pre-coordinated outfits hanging together back in the walk-in closet, and decided to just stick to those. Better safe than sorry. If itâs already paired, I canât mess upâŠright?
âIâm going to need to ask her for a cheat sheet or something.â She mumbled, making another mental note to ask Jullianna for advice on how not to mess this all up.
For now, Sofia slid into one of the satin pajama sets and climbed into the soft, king sized bed. The covers felt impossibly smooth against her skin, like they were made of clouds. As she lay there, staring at the intricate ceiling design, she couldnât help but laugh softly to herself.
âHow am I supposed to keep up with this?â She murmured to herself, chuckling. âThis is going to be really interesting.â
Sofia lay in the king sized bed, staring at the ceiling, hands tucked under her head. The room was dark and still, with only the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the large, curtained windows. She tried closing her eyes tightly, but her mind refused to settle, the unfamiliar surroundings, no matter how luxurious, only made her miss home more. She was not used to this kind of quiet, not the kind that made her thoughts louder than they needed to be.
She shifted slightly under the covers, hugging now the pillow closer. Every fiber of her being longed for the comforting presence of her father, the warmth of his voice when he wished her good night, the sound of his footsteps echoing through their home in Spain. Sofiaâs breath hitched slightly when she suddenly heard faint footsteps outside the door, her heart raced as the sound grew closer, she shifted back into a sleeping position, shutting her eyes as she tried to even out her breathing.
The door creaked open gently, and you stepped inside, the soft light from the hallway spilling in for a brief moment before the door clicked shut again. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness of the room, and your gaze immediately fell on the figure lying under the plush covers. You smiled to yourself, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.
âFast asleep already.â You murmured softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.
Sofiaâs heart ached at your voice. It was so tender, so maternal, and for a moment, she almost felt guilty for keeping up this act. You moved closer, your footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. Reaching the side of the bed, you lowered yourself carefully onto the edge, mindful not to disturb what you thought was your sleeping daughter.
The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and Sofia felt it, but she remained perfectly still. You looked at her peaceful form, her dark lashes resting gently against her cheeks.
âMy sweet girl,â you whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. âYou mustâve been so tired today, huh.â
Sofiaâs chest tightened. She wanted to say something, to reach out to you, but she did not. Instead, she felt the warmth of your hand as it lingered for a moment on her hair, smoothing it gently.
âYou always try to act so grown-up,â you continued softly, your voice filled with affection, âbut youâll always be my little girl, Lia. Donât ever forget that.â
Sofiaâs heart skipped at the name. It was not hers, but the tenderness in your tone made it feel like it could have been. You leaned down, pressing a light feather kiss, to her forehead, and she had to fight the sudden wave of emotion welling up inside her.
âGood night, my love.â You said softly, pulling back and standing up quietly.
You adjusted the covers slightly, ensuring she was tucked in before leaving the room. Sofiaâs ears picked up every little sound, the soft rustle of fabric, faint creak of the floorboards, and finally, the gentle click of the door closing as you left the room.
Only when the silence returned did she open her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the spot on her forehead where you had kissed her, and she swallowed hard.
âGood night.â She whispered into the darkness.
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Nothings Gonna Change My World (Steddie X You)(Serial Killers Universe)
Warnings: Experimentees Steddie & Y/N, In alternate Universe ( Serial Killers Steddie & Victim Stalked Fem Y/N), SMUT, roleplay (CNC I guess?), knife play (light, no cutting), sub/dom dynamics, bondage, degrading (whore, little girl, "you wanted this."), slapping, choking, hair pulling, semi public (in the woods), mentions of after care afterwards (of course).
ANGST (obviously), in the current universe Y/N is still struggling with her feelings of the last chapter, the doctor does find out the truth they've been hiding.
In the alternative universe, Steddie are killers, there's no details of them killing anyone but blood is mentioned, they do tie her to a chair and degrade her, they let her go to chase her, mentions of her feelings afraid and talking about the glimpses on instability in their eyes. Mentions of murders and the towns general fear. Readers alcoholism is mentioned. In this universe it's mentioned that the reader was in jail at one point.
Word Count: 5230
Series here/Donate
âWhy didnât you say anything?â, the doctor growls in frustration as he leans against his desk in front of you and the guys with his arms folded.Â
âWe were afraid of getting removed from the experiment.â, Steve answered as your head continued to hang.Â
It had been a week since you saw Kallie in the other universe and the doctor had you three monitored on bed rest the entire time. You had nightmares of what happened, waking up screaming with either Eddie or Steve there to comfort you.Â
You were mentally exhausted and the one person you wanted to talk to was no longer available in your current universe.Â
âWhy would you think that? If anything, Iâm even more curious now.â, the doctor sighs. âYou said you three have never met each other until the start of this?â
âUm, Steve and I went to school together but we never really spoke or spent time together. He was an asshole.â
At Eddieâs words, the other manâs lips pursed as his jaw clenched knowing it was true.Â
âBut not you, Y/N? You donât know either of these men outside of here?â
âNo, she didnât.â, Steve answer for you when you didnât respond.Â
âHm. Iâd like to test something if youâre three up for it? Last week, the group went to a universe that frightened the bulk of our experimenters. In this particular universe, they mentioned the world being terrified over a couple of serial killers. Iâd like you three to try it and see where you land.â
âWhy?â, Eddie asks.Â
âBecauseâŠsome people mentioned broadcasts on the tv in the background whatever was happening while they were there. Suspects were two menâŠ
âI still donât understand why you want us to experience that if it was traumatizing for the others.â, Steve replied to the doctor.
âIf you three run into each other in every universeâŠselfishlyâŠIâm kind of curious how Y/N plays a part in a dynamic like that.â
âWell, fuck that. We arenât you living dolls that you can fuck around withââ
âTechnically Mr. Harrington, you are since you signed up for this experiment. Now, you donât have to do this. I was just suggesting as a scientistââ
âIâll do it.â, you interrupt causing all heads to turn your way. âWhen do we start?â
âUm, we can hook you up in 30min, if youâre sureââ
âIâm sure.â
And with that, you get up from your seat and exit the office.Â
***
âY/N, wait. Hang on, God damn it!â, Steve grunts in frustration as he runs after you and grabs your arm that you angrily pull away. âWhy are you so eager to do this?â
âBecause I want to feel something other than what Iâm feeling right now.â
âSo you want to feel like a victim?â At Eddieâs comment, you glare his way. âIf we are what he believes in this universe and we always run into you in every universe than weâre most likely going to be trying to kill you if we havenât already.â
âHm, I canât wait.â, you sass before the other boy tugs on your bicep. âJesus Christ! You are not my father or my fucking boyfriend. Boyfriendsssss.â, you growl as you shove them way from you. âI donât need you to take care of me or tell me what to fucking do. Now stay the hell away from me!â
âYouâre so fucking stubborn you know that!â, Steve shouts as he fully lets you go. âEven in this universe you tell us that you love us but then pull shit like this! Itâs fucking exhausting, Y/N!â
âGood! Then maybe youâll fucking listen to me this time and stay away!â
***
As the nurse guides you into this new room, you canât help but be a little intimidated at the new placement of the pods and machines in the middle of the room.Â
Three vessels were placed in a circle with all of your heads facing in the same direction with a camera dangling from the ceiling above. Unlike previously, it seems the doctor was pulling out all the extra stops to gather as much information as he could with what he had available.Â
With how they reacted before you were under the impression, you would be doing this session by yourself so when both men stomped in and sat in their respective places you were surprised.Â
âOk guys, everything is still the same. Four hours under and you canât interact, just observe.â, the doctor relayed as he glanced over you nervously. âWeâre monitoring your vitals so if it gets too intense and you react like last timeââ
âThis wonât be like last time.â, you interject before he nods at the nurses standing off to the side to take over.
âI love you, Y/N.â, Eddie mumbles as the three of you lay back in your pod. âIâm not sure if weâve said it back to you but I do. I donât know whatâs going to happen when we go under but no matter whatâŠin this universe, sweetheartâŠI love you.â
âI love you to.â, Steve adds. âYour rightâŠwe may not know much about you here but we do know that you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. We may not be the best men butâŠâ
âWeâre the best men for you.â, the metalhead finishes when he pauses.
âYeahâŠâ
Before you can reply, the nurses split up between you three to place the goggles over your head and administer your calming agent.
âAlright, sweetie, here we go. Dropping in, in 3, 2, 1âŠâ
###############
âEverythingâs going to be alright, babe. Fuck our father.â
You smile as your thumb grazes over your phone as you reread the text your sister sent. Today was supposed to be a big day for you. You had worked so hard to get the promotion at your firm but with one phone call from your dad it was all taken away.Â
âWhisky. Neat.â
If it wasnât for the incredibly strong smell of cologne you probably wouldnât have even noticed the gorgeous man beside you as he absently dug into his suit pocket and threw some bills on the counter.Â
When his eyes met yours, he smiled wide as your own eyes nervously looked away.Â
âIf I may, maâam, you are extremely beautiful.â, he complimented making you blush as you ducked your head. âOh, come on, honey, I donât bite. Whatâs your name?â
âY/N.â, you mumble shyly as you extend your hand that he promptly takes into his own.Â
âWell, Y/N, itâs nice to meet you. May I ask why youâre sitting here all by yourself staring at a shot glass?â
âIâm waiting for my boyfriend.â
âHmâŠand your boyfriend lets you drink alone on Friday nights?â
âIâm notâŠnot drinkingâŠjustâŠâ Again, your gaze shifts and this time he follows it as he takes a seat beside you.Â
âJust what, Y/N?â, he asks softly but you detect a hint of annoyance.
âI had a bad day.â, you whisper. âMy boss, Angelique Dyerââ
âPfft, I know that bitch.â, the man sighs as he takes a sip of the drink he was given. âIâm sorry, baby, please continue.â
âShe skipped over me for a promotion and I worked so hard for it to. I worked so many late nights and did everything she asked.â
âButâŠâ
âShe did a background check on me and called my father. I, um, I was in jail a few years ago. Not for long butâŠâ
âFor?â
You sighed knowing the information would most likely scare him away; it always did with people you met. Your boyfriend was the only person to ever really see you as you and not judge you for your past.Â
âY/N.â, the man coos softly as his thumb caresses your hand that you didnât realize was still in his grasp. âYou can tell me anything. Itâs not my place to judge. I would know; Iâm a lawyer.â
While you giggle at his joke, with his free hand he reaches into his pocket and hands you his card.Â
Steven Harrington
âStevenâŠâ, you grin making him softly smile back.Â
âYou can call me Steve.â
Blinking up at his kind features, you exhale your nerves as you tell him the truth.Â
âI was arrested for public intoxication and assault. My sister and I were having a bit too much fun and she took away my keys so I wouldnât drive. Her boyfriend got mad saying she was âbabyingâ me and grabbed her arm soâŠI punched him.â
âSounds like a fucking asshole.â
âYeah⊠Anyway, I had been in trouble before and my father wanted to teach me a lesson soâŠâ, you shrug.Â
âHow did you get hired if that was on your record? I mean I would figure if itâs enough to not promote you than why bother right?â
âI, uh, I probably shouldnât tell you.â, you giggle as you reach for the shot glass and bring it to your lips.Â
Before you can taste anything however he places his large palm over the top and guides it away from your mouth.Â
âYou can tell me anything, pretty girl.â, he replies in a sultry voice that has you blushing again.
âMy boyfriend works for IT and heâs so smart with computers but people never take him seriously. He, um, did a thing that hid my record.â
âI see.â, Steve retorts as his lips form into a thin line as he grabs the shot from your fingers and chugs it back. âMy friend and I may be able to help you. He works at my firm with me doing research and stuff so heâs really good with technology himself. At most maybe we can help find you a loophole or something.â
Your eyebrows furrow as you finally gather your faculties enough to pull your hand from his grasp.Â
âWhy? Why would you want to help me?â
The lawyerâs head tilts to the side while his beautiful eyes glisten as they scan you over from head to toe.Â
âBecause nice, pretty girls like you deserve to be happy.â
Absorbing his words, your own irises take him in before fleeting to the tv above the bar behind him begging people to take extra caution while out especially at night. Another body had been found in the lake nearby in the same manner as the other victims believing it to be committed by the two serial killers at large.Â
As your eyes meet his again, you canât help but feel safe with this man you had just met.Â
âOk.â, you squeak eliciting an enormous grin to twitch across his face that would make the devil himself blush.Â
âGood. My car is out back here. I couldnât get a parking spot near the bar.â
After paying for your beverage, Steve takes your hand in his and you allow him to guide you down the street to a parking lot that seemed completely abandoned.Â
âSteve, you should be careful parking in a lot like this. Someone could hurt you and no one would know.â
âMy thoughts exactly.â
Before you could respond, arms roughly grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth as you were aggressively pulled into the backseat of his car.Â
***
Your wide eyes watched Steve as he casually sauntered past you as if you werenât even there.Â
His friend, who had just spent the last thirty minutes dragging you into their house and bound you to the chair you were currently in, kept his intense chocolate eyes zeroed in on you. A small smirk painted on his lips while he absently twirled the handle of a knife against the counter. You noticed immediately that his clothes and parts of his hands were stained red frightening you even more as you pulled at your restraints.Â
âHow did it go?â
âSmooth. She was shocked to say the least but definitely didnât see me cominâ.â, the long-haired man answered. âShe didnât scream or make any noise. Hopefully this one is different.â
The wink he tossed your way made you shutter but you didnât want them to think you were weak. You had fought so many people in your lifetime in every sense of the word and if tonight was your last night, you were going to go down swinging.
âWhere is she now?â
âTrunk. I thought maybe after we could go to the lake on the opposite side of town. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak.â
Steveâs amber eyes flicked your way before shifting to the floor and nodding as he slid off his suit jacket, throwing it aside.Â
âI genuinely am sorry for this, Y/N.â, he sighs as he walks towards you, bringing one of the table chairs with him, and placing it in front of you, crossing his legs as he rolls up his sleeves. âI know you had a bad day but you chose this.â
His friend behind him snickered when your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.Â
âYou were at that bar all alone even though thereâs a killer out there.â
âKillerSSSS.â
âDressed in that short skirt that shows off those beautiful legs practically begging to be touched.â, he sighed, licking his lips as he watched you squirm in your seat. âYou said you had a boyfriend yet you engaged in conversation AND left with me. Were you even going to tell him you were with me? Did he even know you were there?â
Gradually leaning forward, Steve removed the tape from your mouth and waited for an answer.Â
âYou said you were going to help me⊠I-I trusted you.â
Blinking, his lips pouted out as his jaw clenched before tilting his head towards the other man and gesturing towards you.
âI donât think Iâve introduced you to my friend here. This is Eddie.â
While being introduced, the metalhead casually stalks your way, giving you a small wave with his fingers before blindsiding you with a rough smack to your face.
âEvery time you donât answer one of my questions, Y/N, Eddie here is going to hurt you. Am I being clear? Say âYes, Sir.ââ
Taking too long for his liking, Steve curtly nods and the other man hits you again.Â
âYES, SIR!â
The knife Eddie had been fiddling with clinks through the air as it lightly taps the chair and the sharpness of the end grazes your cheek threateningly.Â
âThis will go a lot smoother for everyone if you get rid of the attitude, sweetheart. Or, if you prefer, we can end it all right here right now.â, he whispers menacingly into your ear sending goosebumps down your spine.Â
âYes, Sir.â, you respond again with less force, seemingly satisfying them both.Â
Steve leans forward, balancing his knees on his elbows while his friend smirks and positions himself behind you to play with your hair; the action oddly calming considering the circumstance.Â
âWere you going to tell your boyfriend where you were going?â
âN-No, Sir.â
âWhy?â
âHeâŠhe wouldnât like it. M-M-Meââ
âLeaving a bar with another man. Hm. Most men wouldnât.â
âIâm sorry.â, you murmur as your head hangs.Â
âAre you?â, Steve asks causing your head to snap back up so your eyes could glare at him. âEven though you know it was wrong, you still left with meâŠstill talked to meâŠstill let me hold your hand. The entire time youâve been tied to this chair, Iâve watched you rub your thighs together anytime me or my friend are near you. You like this donât you?â
After a rough tug of your hair, you answer.Â
âY-Yes, Sir.â
The lawyer smirks as he slides to the floor, his dark, gorgeous eyes locked on yours as his palms grip your knees and opens your legs wide to reveal your silky panties under your skirt.Â
âYou like being a bad girl, donât you, Y/N?â
This time, when you take too long to answer, Steveâs palm wraps around your throat and touches his nose to yours.Â
âDonât deny or try to hide it. I can fucking smell how wet you are. Answer my fucking question.â
You heard it in his tone; the desperation slipping out under the darkness. Now was your chance to try and get the upper hand.
âIs this what you need, Mr. Harrington? Is this how you get girls to submit? Fucking pathetic.â Youâre barely able to let out your sarcastic laugh before Eddie yanks on your hair again and holds the knife to your throat just above his friendâs hand.Â
âYou show us fucking respect, little girl.â
âRespect for what?! The fact that you canât get a woman in your house without taking her and tying her to a chair? Youâre weak!â
The annoyance in his eyes change to amused as he rises to his feet and pushes Eddie to the side as he takes the knife to free you from your binds.Â
âYouâre absolutely right, honey, and quite frankly, my friend and I DO enjoy the chase. Itâs been a while since a woman didnât just willingly succumb to my charms.â
âOk, calm down, Steven.â, Eddie teases as he grabs your bicep and aggressively lifts you from your chair, shoving you away from them.Â
âWeâll give you a thirty second head start. The front door behind us is locked and we arenât opening it. You could hide in the house and call for help but you donât have a phone and we donât have a landline so I donât see how much helpful that would be. Out back there past the forest is a couple of our neighbors but the closest one is about a three-mile walk so youâd have be quick.â
âA-Are you serious?â, you ask as you begin to slowly back away from them.Â
âIf you succeed in escaping, then I promise weâll leave you be. If we catch youâŠâ
âYouâre ours.â, the metalhead grins wide displaying all of his teeth. âBetter run fast.â
Tilting his watch, Steveâs eyes never leave the gold around his wrist.Â
âGo.â
Your terrified eyes flick between them trying to figure out if this is a trick but you barely have time to think as Eddie stomps his boot forward as if heâs about to give chase causing you to run out the back door past the pool and into the woods.Â
After exactly thirty seconds, Steve taps his friendâs shoulder causing him to sprint towards the direction they saw you disappear in while the man himself slowly followed behind.Â
***
You figured if you were going to survive this, the woods would be your best bet. An open space that you could run around should they stumble upon you as well as being able to hide behind a tree with the darkness of night to cloak you.Â
You half expected them to taunt you in some way, calling your name or mocking you. A part of you hoped for it so you knew exactly where they were. Every little sound caused you to jump and hide before realizing it was your own shoes.Â
âNot fast enough, princess.â, Eddie singed, suddenly appearing beside you and wrapping his strong arms around you.Â
âLet me go!â, you shout as try to elbow him in the stomach to no avail.Â
âDidnât get very far, did you?â, he growled as his grip never faltered. âWe could have done this inside but you wanted to do this the hard way.â
As he held you to him, your body folded into his and you could feel the large bulge in his jeans pressing against your ass.Â
âYou feel that, sweetheart? My cock is so hard just from hunting for you. I kept thinking about what we were going to do after we caught you.â With one arm firmly holding you in place, he utilized his other to lift your skirt and sloppily pull down your panties just enough to spank your behind before sliding his long, thick fingers into your pussy. âFuck, baby, you were thinking about it to, werenât you, dirty girl?â
You couldnât help the small moan that escaped your lips as he pumped his digits deep inside of you hitting that spongy spot inside of you no one else had reached.Â
âI told you, honey, you like this.â, Steve chuckled as he appeared out of the dark and sauntered towards you. âYou like being a bad girl and being used by us.â
âFuck, Steve, I canât wait any longer.â, Eddie whined as you listened to him fumble with his belt. âBend. I said fucking bend!â, he scolded as his palm pushed on your upper back, bending you in half. He wasnât gentle by any means as he guided himself inside you, bottoming out quickly and eliciting a loud gasp as he stretched you out.Â
âSay it.â, the lawyer commanded calmly as he watched your face contort in pleasure while his friend thrust his hips at a vigorous pace. âYou know what I want to hear.â
âIâŠIâm a bad girlâŠfuckâŠâ
Ring laced fingers took hold of your shirt, tearing it enough to expose your bra before Eddie moved it to grasp your breast and pull your hair with his other hand.Â
âAnd?â
âIâŠpleaseâŠâ
Folding over you, the long-haired manâs breath warmed your ear as he growled, âYou want to cum, you answer him.â
âI like being used by you!â, you rushed out verbally. âPlease, Sir. Pleeeeease.â
Panting against your shoulder, Eddie pumped and rolled his hips till you felt the ball drop in your belly. Hastily covering your mouth to muffle your screams, he chased his high till he grunted and pounded his release into your cunt.Â
âThatâs it, you little whore. You take my cum and say thank you.â
âT-ThankâŠThank youânah!â, you whimper as he pulls out and pushes you to the dirt.Â
Steve sinks to his knees and you immediately sit up but before you can adjust yourself, his stern eyes give you pause.
âCome here.â, he beckons. Doing as he commands, you place yourself in front of him looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes he loves. âTake my cock out.â
Without breaking eye contact, you reach forward and undo his belt, relishing in the slight increase of his breathing when your hand takes hold of his length to remove it from its confinement.Â
âThatâs it. Keep your eyes on me while you stroke it.â Utilize the beads of precum leaking from his slit, you ran your palm up and down as he licked his lips followed by a pleasure filled sigh. âTell me you want me.â, he whispered, almost sounding vulnerable as you felt your heart break.Â
âI want you.â, you murmur as your hand moves at a faster pace.Â
The look in his eyes shifted like it had before to that desperation that seemed more frightening than the darkness that had been on display. Placing his palms beside you, he walked you back till you were pressed against the dirt with him hovering over you.Â
âYou want me? Put my cock inside that tight little pussy.â Steveâs tone was now rough, no longer carrying the light but sinister charm he showed you before. âIâm tired of fucking repeating myself, little girl. If you want to make it through tonight you better fucking listen.â
To emphasis his point, Eddie balanced on his heels beside your head and ran the dull side of the blade along your chest.Â
The lawyerâs eye lids fluttered when you guided him inside you, your hips slightly rolling to take him as far as you could. Pinning your wrists above your head, he took over and delivered a hard thrust that punched the air from your lungs.Â
âAh!â, you moan, biting your lip when he does it again. âFuck.â
âYou love the way my dick feels, donât you?â
âMmmâYes, Sir.â
âYou love being fucked like this donât you, dirty girl?â
âNaâah! Yes!â, you whimper as he slams into you again, now finding a steady rhythm as his cock repeatedly and violently hits your g-spot.Â
âIâll send you back to your fucking boyfriend throbbing and sore. Shit. Fucking filled to the brim with our cum leaking out of you.â
 One of Steveâs massive hands released you to squeeze your breast and as his open mouth hovered above yours you couldnât help but kiss them. Panting, his forehead fell against your neck as he held your lower back closer to him, thrusting into you deeply as he searched for your highs.Â
Yours hit you like a freight train as your back arched and like his friend he covered your mouth to muffle the loud scream that rippled through you. Collapsing on top of you, the man pumped his length into you with rough abandon till you felt his rhythm falter and he exhaled a strained grunt as he coated your walls with his release.Â
After a few moments, your giggle filled his ears and Steve pushed up on his elbows to look down at your smiling, blissed out features.Â
âWhat are you laughinâ at?â, he asks in a more lighthearted tone.Â
âYou.â, you beam as you poke his nose with your index.Â
âAre you ok, sweetheart?â, Eddie asks as his fingers pet your hair from his place above you as he looks down at you with concerned eyes.Â
âYeah, Iâm ok, baby.â
âGood.â, he grins as his friend gradually pulls out and rises to his feet while the metalhead helps you to yours. Taking in your demeanor, he gently pulls up your panties and places his jacket around your shoulders. âYou did really good, pretty girl.â
âHow far did I get?â
âUm, in thirty seconds? A few yards.â, Steve guess as he gestures towards the house where you can vaguely see the lights still illuminating from the windows. âTo be fair, I think with the adrenaline of the night and everything, Eddie practically flew after you soâŠâ
The three of you laugh as the long-haired boy lifts you into his arms and carries you the rest of the way to your shared home.Â
***
After a long bath and some good careful aftercare, you watch the men you love with smitten eyes even as they push your bossâs body off the boat and into the water below.Â
âDone and done. You said a lot of people saw her at the bar, right?â
âYeah, they did and definitely the bartender which speaking of.â Steve pauses as both men turn to face you. âWhy did you have a shot in front of you when I got there?â
Blinking, you shrug as you take a seat on the edge of the bow with Eddie sitting beside you as he wraps his arm around youÂ
âY/N, honey, you promised me the day I took on your case that you were never going to drink again and remain sober.â
âI know. I know, Steve. I swear I didnât drink anything either.â
âYou were about toââ
âToday was rough.â
âThatâs no excuseââ
âSteven, get off her back, yeah?â, the metalhead cut in before resting his chin on your shoulder. âI feel like this is partially my fault. I should have expected them to upgrade their system after I hacked in there the last time. Iâm sorry, baby.â
âNo, no.â, you reply as you turn to cup his cheeks. âNone of this is your fault. Either of yours⊠I appreciate you trying and doing all this for me.â, you gesture absently around you. âI know you both like to take your time when it comes to the people you kill.â
âYeah but this was for you, sweetheart. Everythingâs easy with you.â, Eddie murmurs as he kisses your cheek. âIf you wanted us to take care of your dad we would.â
âNoâŠplus that would be too risky. You guys could get caught or Kallie could get in trouble since she works for him.â Your gaze shifts from his to Steveâs whose eyes are scanning you over intensely. âI donât know what Iâd do if anything ever happened to you three.â
Kneeling in front of you, the lawyer takes your hands in his and kisses the back of them.Â
âNothingâs ever going to happen to us, honey, I promise.â
Tilting down, you take hold of his chin and kiss his lips before doing the same with Eddie.Â
âI want you. I want you so bad.â, the metalhead lightly sings making you and his friend laugh as the memory of the night you were first intimate with them while that song played in the background flashed through your head.Â
âI want you so bad, itâs driving me mad. Itâs driving meâŠâ, you sing back as your forehead presses to his, continuing to giggle as he pretends to play the guitar.Â
Extending his hand towards you, you take it and allow Steve to lead you inside the boat with Eddie close behind as you gasp at the table set with roses, candles, and your favorite meal.Â
âWe know that playing the way we do helps clear your mind after a bad day but we also wanted to show you how much we appreciate and love you like normal men do.â
âMr. Harrington, when have we ever been normal?â, you tease.
The three of you smile as Eddie lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around you to guide you to a chair so you could eat.
#####################
âThere we are, sweetie. Please donât run off.â, the nurse coos, slightly surprised when you do what she asks. âHow are you feeling?â
You donât know why but you suddenly feel the need to laugh.
Your cackle ripples through you and after a few seconds itâs followed by both boyâs deep chuckles as well.Â
âHuh. Fascinating.â, the doctor muses as he watches the display. âWhat happened?â
âCan we talk about it later?â
Without even waiting for an answer, you remove all the devices attached to you and head down the hallway to your room where both men trail after.Â
âYou protect meâŠin every universeâŠand that scares me butâŠâ, you pause as your eyes shift through the air searching for the right words. âI just realized that you both put so much faith in meâŠeven after everything you went through. Even in that universe I felt how that Steve needed to feel wanted because of everyone that abandoned him and how that Eddie desperately needed to feel in control especially with death because of the people you lost.
I think the reason you do that so willingly is because in every universe, you have each other. YouâŠhelp make my life betterâŠyou make me happy. Itâs been so long since Iâve been happyâŠeven before Kallie died.â
âWhat are you trying to say, sweetheart?â
Silently, you stride Eddieâs way, cupping his cheeks as you jump into his arms and passionately kiss his lips. His limbs circle tightly around you as he lifts you off your feet for a brief moment before placing you back down.Â
âIâm saying I want to try being more open with you two if youâll let me.â
The metalhead lets you go and Steve lifts you up again, wrapping your legs around his waist as he softly kisses you.Â
âOf course. We can take things slow, baby.â
You allow him to carry you to the bed behind you where both men lay on either side of you, tenderly kissing any part of your body they can reach as your arms and legs tangle together.Â
################
@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart @yesimabratandwhataboutot @chelebelletx @season4steve @fic-lover-29 @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @cherryc1nnam0n
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn#eddie munson smut#fan fiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie fanfic#eddie munson angst#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steddie angst#steddie fluff#Spotify#joseph quinn angst#joseph quinn fluff#Joe keery angst#joe keery fluff#alternate universe#stranger things au#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steddie x reader#steddie x you#steddie x y/n#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steddie au
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handwritten - theo nott x reader
yours and theoâs story as told through notes passed in class
a/n - came up with this quick idea to release some pent up creative energy while mulling over lucky pt 3. will prob make this an ongoing series for small ideas I canât get fully fledged fics out of. easy to write, easy to read, enjoy!
tropes/warnings - fluff, a minor hinting at angst, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers
word count - 1.5k
Monday, 10.07 am, Charms
Hey. You might want to pull your nose out of that disgusting textbook for once.
Weâve been over this. Just because you donât understand something it doesnât mean itâs disgusting. Itâs very disrespectful.
What is disrespectful is you not paying attention to our yearâs hottest new commodity - emphasis on the hot. I must say, he fills out that uniform quite nicely.
Iâm sure he does.
Câmon, youâre not even a little bit curious? Just a peek?
Y/N? Hellooooooo?Â
Oh my god. I know the guy.
???
What is he doing here? Last I heard he was being homeschooled.
Know him how??
We went to the same primary school. We wereâŠfriends.
Riiiight.
Donât get any ideas. I havenât seen him since I was ten. And he looked very, very different back then. Had a ratty sort of face. I can still kind of see it, actually.
Oh, Y/N, how could you say such awful things about his beautiful face! Oh dear, that bone structureâŠ
Quiet, you. Heâs reallyâŠgrown. Heâs so much taller now.
You know what you should do? You should offer to help him catch up.
On five years of school?
Oh, please, he was homeschooled. He had to have learnt some things. Who is he, anyway?
Theodore Nott.
Now thatâs an Old Money name if I ever heard one.
Ivy. Be nice.
So? Is he? Old money, that is.
IâŠsuppose so.
Are you sure you two were friends?
Yes. Itâs been a while, thatâs all. I justâŠwow. I canât believe heâs here. Like, right there. I didnât know if Iâd ever see him again.
What happened?
He moved. I was starting at Hogwarts. We lost touch, it happens.
But now heâs back! Yay! Did you see those sinfully blue eyes of his?
Ivy, you have a boyfriend.
I know. Ivan agrees, by the way.
That heâs hot?
Yes.
Heâs sitting on the other side of the room. When did you have time to discuss this??
Just now. Right in front of you. What did you think all that eyebrow-waggling was about?
I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, the two of you are perfect for each other.
Donât change the subject. Heâs not gay, is he? Your friend? All the hot ones usually are.
I wouldnât know, now, would I? I havenât heard anything about him in years. Ivy, leave him alone. Please donât harass the poor guy, sexually or otherwise. And quit it with the notes. Heâll notice.
How??? Has he got eyes on the back of his very nicely shaped head? Heâs busy with Flitwick anyway.
Trust me, heâll see. Nothing gets past Theodore Nott.
Monday, 2.15 pm, Potions
Well?????
Well, what?
The chat!!! Your chat!!!!!! With Mr. Theodore Nott!!!!!!!!
You have to quit it with the caffeine. Youâre far too excitable after lunch.
The chat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was fine. It wasâŠnice.
Uh-huh.
He goes by Theo now.
Okay. Iâll pretend I care about that.
It was all very casual, very superficial. It was really just us exchanging pleasantries. Oh, right. He asked me to accompany him to Quidditch tryouts.
You??? But you hate Quidditch.
I know.
Please tell me you didnât say that.
I didn't. I just said I didnât know much about it.
And?
He said that didnât matter. He just wanted me there for moral support.
Then what was with all the turning red halfway through? You looked like you were going to combust.
Was it that obvious?
Ivan had some pumpkin juice ready, just in case.
It was nothing. I just wasnât expecting it, thatâs all. He called me his good luck charm.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Youâre going to rip a hole through the parchment.
AWWWWW
So?? Did you say yes??
I said Iâd think about it.
BOOOOOOOO
Come on, Vee. Heâs been flying since before he could walk. He always talked about joining the big leagues, you know. He knows everything there is to know about Quidditch, so of course heâll make the team. And itâll have nothing to do with me.
But he doesnât even have any friends yet :(
Thatâs because he hasnât talked to anyone yet.
Yâknow, Romilda Vane wanted to know why he was talking to you of all people.
Whatâs that supposed to mean??
Eh, you know. You can be a littleâŠsnippy.
I am NOT snippy.
There it is. The snippiness.
Whatever. Itâs all so pointless. Come Thursday evening, heâll have joined the Quidditch team and heâll be hanging out with, yâknow, those people, and weâll be ancient history. Heâll make plenty of friends. He just doesnât know it yet.
Okay. If you say so. Also, at lunch, I finally tried that thing youâre always talking about, âapplying myself,â and I found this article on his dad in the library. From 6 years ago.
Donât you want to know what the article said?
You could have mentioned he was a death eater, you know.
I donât care about that, by the way. You used to be friends and thatâs good enough for me. But, Y/N, he was arrested six years ago. And you havenât talked to Theo in six years. But there isnât any kind of connection between those, is there?
Y/N?
Do not make me throw this at you. I know how you feel about paper cuts.
Tuesday, 3.03 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts
Whereâs your friend?
?
You know. Who youâre always passing notes with in class?
You noticed?
Hard not to. It makes you all fidgety and annoyed.
Yeah, well, Ivyâs an annoying person.
Iâll take your word for it. What do you have after this?
Transfiguration.
Wow. Thatâs one of the harder ones, isnât it?
Er, depends on who you ask, I think.
Still brilliant as ever, then.
Shut up. Iâm not half the swot I was in primary school.Â
I never thought you were a swot. You were justâŠenthusiastic.
Thatâs sweet of you to say, Theo.
Huh. I thought Iâd always be Teddy to you.
Weâre not ten anymore, Theo. I can say your name perfectly now.
Thatâs good. So, have you thought about it?
Thought about what?
The Quidditch tryouts. Youâre the only person I know here so you have to say yes.
I donât know. Some of the girls look pretty interested in getting to know you.
What?
Nothing. I guess I could swing by for a short while.
Thatâs my girl.
Thursday, 8.37 pm, Common Room
SO?????
He got in. Obviously. Was there ever any doubt?
Did he run up to you? Did he hug you? Did he pick you up and spin you around???
Witch Weekly is a bad influence on you.
Details, please.
He hugged me. Kind of. Nearly tackled me, he was so excited.
you are SO his good luck charm!!!!!!
Friday, 11.17 am, Defence Against the Dark Arts
Witch Weekly?
Itâs not mine. Iâm holding it for a friend.
Right.
Really, I am. Ivyâs a fiend for these but she has this Charms test coming up that she absolutely cannot fail.
I believe you. âTop 6 Magical Contraceptives for the Modern Witchâ doesnât sound like your kind of reading material.
Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to embarrass you. I was only having a little fun.
Iâm not embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?
Erm, no, but youâre very red. Do you need to see the Healer?
Iâm fine. Itâs just hot. And no one calls Madam Pomfrey âthe Healer,â by the way.
Ah. I see.
Is there a point to all this? Did you need to ask something?
Oh, right. What are you up to on Saturday night?
Saturday? DunnoâŠwanted to take a crack at that Transfiguration essay.
Excellent. Iâll pick you up at 8.
Oh?
Itâs nothing. A couple of the guys on the team wanted to celebrate with drinks at Hogsmeade. Everyoneâs bringing someone, and I thought it would be nice if you came. Being my good luck charm, and all.
Oh, Theo, you probably donât know this since youâre new and all, but going down to Hogsmeade is only permissible on certain weekends. And only start a couple of weeks into the term, so not yet.
Did you just -? Oh my god, you did. You laughed at me. You laughed at my note. Out loud. Youâre lucky youâre in Slytherin, you know. Snape usually goes absolutely ballistic if anyone interrupts his lesson.
Iâm sorry, I forgot what a stickler you were. I just - I didnât think Iâd miss it.
Please, Theo, forget the drinks. I cannot in good conscience stand by and let you break so many rules. Youâve been here less than a week!
Guess youâll have to keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay out of trouble.
Exactly.
Great. See you Saturday at 8.
#theo nott x reader#theo nott#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott fluff
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THE GOLDEN LOTUS
pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader
word count: 864
university au!! i just wanted something cute and sweet and i think i really cooked with this one. also thinking of maybe making this into a series or having other uni au's for other drivers, what do you guys think???
Ollie Bearman wasnât one for change. Predictability was his sanctuary, a warm cocoon that he didnât much like leaving. His life ran on routine: lectures, workouts, and pasta dinners in his dorm room. But predictability took a nosedive the day he stumbled into the Golden Lotus.
It was a small Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a charity shop, a little worn but radiating charm. Ollieâs first visit was born of desperationâheâd forgotten to do a food shop, and the Golden Lotus was cheap, convenient, and smelled amazing. He didnât even like Chinese food that much, but the portion sizes? Enormous. Enough to feed a starving uni student for two days, if he rationed it right.
The food, however, quickly became secondary.
The real reason Ollie found himself at the Golden Lotus every Tuesday and Thursday night was the girl behind the counter. YN.
She was a computer science major with a sharp wit and a smile that felt like a reward when Ollie managed to coax it out of her. YN worked the evening shift, her laptop often open beside the register as she chipped away at coursework between filling takeout orders. She lived in the apartment above the restaurant, earning a rent discount by working their⊠or so he overheard.
At first, Ollie had been too shy to do much more than order his food, offer a polite smile, and retreat to his usual table. But YN had noticed himâhow could she not? He was the only customer who regularly dined in. That was rare enough, but when someone started showing up twice a week like clockwork, well⊠she couldnât help but be a little curious.
It had started innocently.
âYouâre becoming a regular,â sheâd said one night, sliding his order across the counter. Her tone was teasing but kind, and Ollie had stammered some excuse about the convenience. Sheâd laughed softly, and the sound stuck with him longer than it should have.
From that moment, their interactions had begun to stretch beyond the standard âCash or card?â conversations. On slow nights, Ollie would linger, striking up tentative chats about coursework or whatever music was playing on the overhead speakers. He learned that YN hated group projects but loved building thingsâapps, websites, anything she could tinker with. She learned that Ollie was studying business but had a secret dream of running his own karting center someday, a nod to his childhood passion for motorsports.
It wasnât long before theyâd fallen into a quiet rhythm.
When YN wasnât busy, sheâd sit at a table with her laptop open, her brow furrowed as she debugged code or prepared for lectures. One evening, Ollie surprised her by setting his business textbook across from her.
âYou donât mind, do you?â he asked.
She blinked at him, caught off guard, then shrugged. âSure, but Iâm not sharing my Wi-Fi password.â
He grinned, and just like that, Ollie became a fixture of her workspace.
Mr. Zhou, however, was less enthused at first.
âThat boy again?â heâd muttered one evening, poking his head out of the kitchen to see Ollie hunched over his notes. âDoes he not have a home?â
âHeâs harmless,â YN had assured him.
âHarmless or homeless?â
But Ollie grew on Mr. Zhou over time. The older man had caught him fixing a wobbly table one night, unprompted, and begrudgingly admitted the âstragglerâ wasnât so bad.
By November, Ollie had started hanging around until closing. Not to pester YNâthough he did enjoy the extra time with herâbut because the restaurant had become a comfort to him, a little pocket of warmth in his otherwise hectic uni life. Sometimes, after locking up, YN would invite him upstairs to her flat. It was tiny, crammed with textbooks and a perpetually half-finished Lego sets, but Ollie loved it.
Their hangouts werenât dates. Not officially, anyway. But Ollie couldnât deny how much he looked forward to them. Whether they were watching a movie or playing video games, he felt at ease in her company.
The turning point came in mid-December, on a freezing morning when Ollie was walking to class with his flatmate, Kimi.
âSo,â Kimi began, glancing at him with a sly smile, âhowâs your girlfriend?â
âWhat?â Ollie nearly tripped over his own feet.
âYou know, YN,â Kimi said, casually sipping his coffee. âYouâre at that restaurant all the time. I just thought⊠you know?â
âSheâs not myââ Ollie started, but the words died in his throat.
Because, truthfully, he didnât hate the idea. In fact, the thought of YN as his girlfriend made his stomach flip in a way he hadnât felt before.
That evening, as he sat at his usual table in the Golden Lotus, Ollie caught himself staring at YN while she worked. She was wiping down the counter, humming softly to herself, her hair falling loose from its tie. She glanced up and caught him looking.
âWhat?â she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
âNothing,â Ollie said quickly, feeling his cheeks heat.
But in that moment, he realized he didnât want to keep playing it safe. Maybe it was time to take a chance.
Just as soon as he worked up the courage.
#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1#formula one#formula 1#x reader#x yn#x you#prema racing#formula 2#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman imagine#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x y/n#oliver bearman#ob50#university au#college au
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# HIGH INFIDELITY â CHAPTER TWO !
SERIES MASTERLIST !
001. SUMMARY !
⯠rafeâs feelings are conflicting, both for him and for you.
002. WARNINGS !
⯠nothing, i think.
003. NOTE !
⯠kinda filler (but not actually) chapter
word count : 1,6k words
Rafe Cameron likes to pretend that nothing in the world can hurt him, that nothing can truly bother him. Though he does hate, and he hates a lot. He hates the shrill sound of Roseâs voice, he hates the expectations Ward places on him, but most of all, he hates not having control. And tonight, at the party at Tannyhill, it feels like control is slipping through his fingers.
The party is everything Rafe Cameron loves and hates about his life rolled into one. On the surface, itâs perfectâjust the right mix of chaos and control. The music is loud enough to drown out any awkward silences, the drinks flow as freely as the insults behind polished smiles, and every person in the room knows their place, even if they wonât admit it.
Rafe thrives in this world, the effortless ruler of his gilded kingdom, but tonight something is off. His usual sense of control feels⊠frayed, like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. He leans casually against a wall, scanning the room, and his jaw tightens when his eyes land yet again on Joshua Diaz.
Josh has always been likable in that unassuming, easygoing wayâpopular without being cocky, charming without trying. Itâs infuriating, really, how people just gravitate toward him, and now you have fallen for his charm too. Because of course you have.
Rafeâs eyes follow you both as you weave through the crowd, your laughter bubbling up every time Josh leans in to whisper something. Itâs a sound that cuts through the haze of noise, sharp and impossible to ignore. And Rafe hates that he notices it.
He tells himself itâs not jealousy. Itâs something elseâsomething easier to swallow, like irritation. Annoyance at Josh for bringing her here, into his space, when you so clearly don't belong. Youâre a Pogue, for crying out loud. What is Josh even thinking?
But deep down, Rafe knows itâs not just about you being a Pogue. Itâs the way you carry yourself, like you're unaware of the lines youâve crossed just by stepping into his house. Like you don't care. Itâs the way you laugh, uninhibited and real, in a way that no one in his world ever does. Itâs the way you look at Josh, eyes bright and full of warmth that Rafe hasnât seen directed at himself in years.
Itâs maddening.
He shifts his weight, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches Josh place a hand on her back, guiding her through the crowd with ease. Rafe clenches his jaw, a low simmer of frustration building in his chest.
What does he see in you?
The question gnaws at him, and he hates that heâs even asking it. Hates that heâs wasting mental energy on a girl who should be nothing more than a passing annoyance. Yet he canât stop watching you, canât stop the irrational churn of emotions every time you smile at Josh like heâs the only person in the room.
He convinces himself itâs not about you. Itâs about Josh. Itâs about protecting his friend from making a mistake, from getting too close to someone who could never understand their world.
Youâre looking out for him, Rafe tells himself, though the words ring hollow.
Rafe tears his gaze away, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you. The room feels suffocating now, the press of bodies and the buzz of conversation blending into a dull roar in his ears. He grabs a drink from the table beside him, more out of habit than thirst, and downs it in one sharp gulp. The burn of alcohol barely registers; his mind is too tangled in thoughts he refuses to name.
It shouldnât matter to him. You shouldnât matter to him. Yet, as much as he tries to push the feelings down, they bubble up like a poison he canât shake. Every laugh, every fleeting touch between you and Josh grates on him, a reminder of just how out of control he feels tonight.
And control is everything to Rafe Cameron.
He sets the empty glass down harder than necessary, drawing a glance from one of the partygoers nearby. He ignores it, his attention already drifting back to you despite himself. You're standing near the pool now, the soft glow of the lights casting a golden hue over your skin. Josh is still by your side, but his focus has shifted to someone else. Youâre alone, if only for a moment.
The logical part of Rafe tells him to let it go, to stay where he is and let the night play out. But another partâa louder, more reckless partâurges him forward. Before he can second-guess himself, heâs moving through the crowd, weaving between groups of people with single-minded determination.
When he reaches you, you donât notice him at first, your gaze fixed on the water as you swirl the drink in your hand. Thereâs a calmness about you, an ease that feels so foreign in this world of his. For a moment, Rafe hesitates, caught between wanting to ruin it and wanting to understand it.
âYou look out of place,â he says finally, his voice low but cutting.
You turn, startled, and meet his eyes. Thereâs no fear there, no shrinking under his scrutiny. Instead, you raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.
âAnd yet, here I am,â you reply, seemingly unfazed.
The simplicity of your response throws him. Most people would stumble over themselves trying to appease him, but not you. You hold your ground, unbothered, and it both infuriates and intrigues him.
âYou shouldnât be here,â he says, though the words come out weaker than he intends.
âNeither should you,â you counter, tilting your head. âYou donât even look like youâre enjoying your own party.â
Rafe opens his mouth to respond, but for once, heâs at a loss. Youâre not wrongâhe hasnât enjoyed a single second of tonight. Yet, as much as he wants to push you away, he finds himself rooted in place, unwilling to leave.
âMaybe Iâm just trying to figure out why Josh brought you here,â he says, falling back on the sharp edge of his words.
For a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of amusement in your eyes. âMaybe you should ask him,â you say lightly. âOr is it easier to corner me instead?â
Rafeâs jaw tightens, but he doesnât respond. He doesnât know how to. For all his bravado, all his carefully crafted masks, he feels exposed under your gaze, as if you can see straight through him.
And he hates that too.
For a moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of the party muffled by the weight of the silence between you and Rafe. His sharp blue eyes hold yours, and though he tries to mask it, thereâs something raw and unspoken lingering thereâsomething that sets your nerves on edge and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Neither of you say a word, but the tension is palpable, stretching between you, ready to snap.
Then, like a switch being flipped, your expression changes. The barely-there softness in your gaze hardens. Without so much as a word, you turn your attention away from Rafe and lean into Josh. The move is deliberate, calculated, as if youâre making a point. You whisper something into Joshâs ear, your voice too low for Rafe to hear, but the intent behind it is clear.
Joshâs easy going demeanor shifts almost instantly. His brows furrow, and his head turns sharply in Rafeâs direction. Thereâs no mistaking the glint of surpriseâand maybe a hint of irritationâin his eyes as they lock onto Rafeâs. Whatever you said, itâs enough to make Josh stand a little straighter, his shoulders squaring as he regards his friend with a newfound wariness.
Rafe stiffens under the weight of Joshâs gaze, his fists clenching at his sides. He feels exposed, like heâs just been caught in the act of something he canât explain. The simmering frustration heâs been trying to suppress threatens to boil over, but he forces himself to stay composed. Barely.
Josh leans in closer to you, murmuring something he canât quite catch, and you respond with a casual shrug, as if Rafe isnât even worth a second thought. The sight of itâthe ease with which you brush him offâgrates on Rafe more than he cares to admit. Itâs as if the two of you are speaking a language he doesnât understand, leaving him on the outside looking in.
For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron feels like heâs lost control. And he hates it.
He hates that he can't tear his gaze away from the two of you as you weave once again through the crowd. Hates the way he barely moves from the spot he was standing, as if his feet are rooted to the floor by some invisible force, forcing him to watch you slip further away from him with each passing second.Â
The longer he watches, the more he feels himself unraveling. Every smile you share with Josh, every glance exchanged between the two of you, twists something inside him, something raw and unexplainable. Heâs not supposed to care. He knows that. Youâre just another person in his world, another blip in the endless sea of faces he canât be bothered to remember. But tonight, it feels different.
And he canât stand it.
#*à©â©àŒ my works !#â¶â*.àł high infidelity !#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe fanfiction#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks#obx
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a lover's redemption | chapter 3
chapter 3. the new normal
pairing â Â mafia leader!park jimin x reader
genre â Â mafia AU â romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)
summary â Â Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.
word count â Â 13.3k
18+ | warnings â Â drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).
taglist is open â dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3
notes â please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3
17th July 2009
The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.
âThey confirmed the crash?â Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.
Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.
Han-Jae nodded. âMostly. But he's gone.â He downed what was left of his drink. âDid we take care of the family?â
Jihoon swirls his glass. âWeâll let them go, they have no one.â
âExcept Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,â Han-jae counters.
âThey mean nothing to us.â
âBut they were loyal to Sehun.â
Upon hearing this, Jimin goes still, realising whatâs happened.Â
âTheir loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and theyâve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.â
Han-Jae says nothing else of the matter but his face does little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. âThe other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. Theyâre digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.â
Jihoonâs eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. âInconvenient?â he echoed. âThe detectives are a problem?â
Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. âNothing we canât handle.â
âFunny,â Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. âYou said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger â trafficking charges. Another detectiveâs on the case, isnât he?â His tone sharpened. âYouâve been careless, Han-Jae.â
The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. âWatch your tongue, Jihoon.â
Jihoonâs lip curled. âYouâve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."
Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."
"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."
"Foolishly?"
"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.
Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.
âIâve given you more than enough leash,â Jihoon continued, his voice rising. âBut if you think Iâll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.â
Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. âWeâll talk about this later,â he spat. âWe have somewhere to be.â
Jihoon didnât bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. âGet a gun.â
Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
âNow,â Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."
Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.
Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.
Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.
âJimin,â she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.
âI canât,â he mumbled against her shoulder. âI canât do it.â
His motherâs embrace tightened. âI never wanted this for you, Jimin,â she murmured, her voice thick with regret. âIâm so sorry.â She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. âBut this is your life now. Your father wonât wait. If you donât go back, heâll only get angrier.â
Jimin shook his head. âWhy do you let himââ His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. âYou have to go now, before he comes looking for you.â
Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.
The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them.Â
Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.
Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.
Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.
Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.
Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. âStay here,â he ordered both boys.
Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.
Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. âI warned you to stay out of my business. But now, youâre here. What do you have to say for yourself?â
The detective spat at Jihoonâs feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. âCome here.â
Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.
âNow, Jimin."
Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.
Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.
"This man is a threat to us,â Jihoon said, calmly. âEnd him.â
Jiminâs breath hitched. âI-I canâtââ
Jihoonâs hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. âYouâre weak,â he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. âYour motherâs made you soft.â
Jiminâs head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. âIs that why you always send her away?â he asked, teeth gritted. âTo keep her away from me?â
Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. âShe chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, itâs her choice. And itâs time you grew up and realised that.â
Jiminâs grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."
The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jiminâs ears long after the manâs body hit the floor.
Jihoonâs voice cut through the haze. âFinally.â
But Jimin didnât hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his fatherâs shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. âYou deal with the other one.â
Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taeminâs shoulder. âGo on, son.â
Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.
Han-Jaeâs smile faded. âDo you want to disappoint me?â
The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.
The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.
Jiminâs stomach churned violently. He couldnât bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, âIâm going to the car.â
Jihoon turned his head slightly but didnât object. âFine. Go.â
The indifference in his fatherâs voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.
The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.
The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.
He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.
His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.
When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detectiveâs lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.
âThis is your life now,â his motherâs voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.
His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didnât come. They couldnât â not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.
Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.
Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.
As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.
Present day
It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that youâre dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isnât yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.
But it doesnât happen.Â
As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.
The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and youâll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing youâre sure of, is that youâre safe.Â
Looking around the room youâre in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with â now the man who saved your lifeâŠ
It hasnât escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun wouldâve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you.Â
Youâve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that youâve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun.Â
Thereâs definitely something going on, because there mustâve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you.Â
Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whateverâs going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too.Â
Thereâs also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water â a small reminder that youâre safe here.Â
As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see itâs also been bandaged and youâre almost certain youâll find stitches under there. Youâre also wearing clothes that arenât yours â a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You donât remember anything since falling unconscious but youâre sure one of the housemaids mustâve dressed you.
Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which youâre sure must show the events that took place at your home â you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that.Â
Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongiâs name. Just before you can press call, thereâs a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly.Â
A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit⊠Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.
âYoongi.âÂ
He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.âY/N.â Walking over to your bed, he doesnât hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.
Heâs been working for Jimin, of course he has â his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your fatherâs death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, youâve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too â someone you once considered a best friend.
âWhy didnât you just tell me?â you ask finally.
âI didnât want to complicate things,â he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by thatâŠÂ
You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return â for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew.Â
 âI need something in return.â
Yoongi lifted his head calmly. âIs everything okay?â
You nodded, placing the key down on the table. âJust, promise me youâll do it first.â
At this, Yoongiâs expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated.Â
Meeting his gaze, you said his name. âPlease.â
âAlright.â Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. âI promise.â
There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something youâd been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what wouldâve been your fatherâs fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and youâd known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasnât a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and youâd noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadnât seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence â that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.
âI want to know who killed my dad.âÂ
The words felt strange on your tongue â though your dadâs murder wasnât a secret to you, you didnât often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi.Â
Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. âI donât think itâs a good idea.â
You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. âYou know.â
He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. âAnd I think you already know.â
The anger and frustration youâd been holding on to for years began to surface.âIt was them, wasnât it?â
Yoongi looked up. âY/Nââ
âLee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?â
Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap.Â
âDo you know why?â
âY/N, please, donâtââ
âYou promised, Yoongi.â
Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. âAlright, Iâll tell you what you want to know.â
âEverything.â
So he didâŠ
Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Leeâs, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyunâs intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving.Â
The Leeâs had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,
âThe one that closed down months ago?â you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongiâs from there on one of your errands for him..
âYes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?â
âLeeâs son?â
âYes.â
You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance.Â
âClosing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.â
âThe Benitoite.â
Yoongi nodded. âA clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.â Looking up, Yoongi carried on. âOnce that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.â
âThey killed her?â
Another nod.
Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldnât say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didnât make any of this easier to hear.
Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. âYou okay?â
âFine. Tell me.â
âWhen that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasnât opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae werenât just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.â
Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.
âThey knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out. Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didnât care who it was.Â
âA mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.â
You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dadâs friends you thought of them as family while growing up. Itâs true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you wouldâve expected of them.
âSo thatâs why they killed my dad?âÂ
Yoongi shook his head. âNot exactly.â Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. âThere was a lot happening around that time, I donât know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.â
Your stomach curled.
âThey wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.â
âBut they didnât.â
âNo. And truthfully I donât think your dad ever believed them anyway.â
It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly.Â
Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. âY/N,â he spoke softly. âI can tell you the rest another time.â
You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like youâve heard enough, but you need to know. âWhat more is there? They killed him after that, no?â
Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongiâs face. âNot quite.â He paused, waiting.Â
Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue.Â
âDid you know Han-jae was married twice?â
Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasnât always there. âYeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?â
âNot exactly, Jiyoung wasnât Han-jaeâs daughter.âÂ
Now, this was news to you.Â
âAnd her mom wasnât a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.âÂ
The arranged marriage wasnât a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your fatherâs affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadnât known that Han-jaeâs first wife despised him.Â
âAfter she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didnât like her just as much as she didnât like him, soâŠÂ he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.â
Eyes widening, you asked, âThe nightclub?â
Yoongi nodded, looking down. âBut your dad saved her.â
Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.
Yoongi continues. âHe knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.â
And just like that, it all made sense. âSo thatâs why they killed him.â
Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. âIt was a means to an end for them,â he murmured. âHan-jae and Jihoon had changed. They werenât who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.â
Yoongiâs words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger⊠your dadâs closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.
That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you canât help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.
âStill couldâve told me,â you mumble, looking away from him.
âWould it have made a difference to anything?â he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile.Â
Realising heâs right, you frown indignantly. âMightâve stopped this,â you say, knowing itâs a weak point.
Yoongiâs expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. âNothing couldâve stopped this.â
Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil.Â
Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. âYou need to tell me everything you know.â
Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. âI donât actually know much,â you start, âSeojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He mustâve known who I was but I didnât realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, heâd left and there was a note on the table.â Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi. âThis is what it said.âÂ
Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, Sheâs the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. âHe mustâve known, but I donât know how.â Looking up, he asks, âyou never told him anything about your grandma?âÂ
âNo,â you shake your head. âHe just knew.â Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun⊠he had a girlfriend. âYoongi?â You meet his gaze with worried eyes. âHe had a girlfriend.â
Yoongiâs expression softens, lips pursing. âYeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.â
Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You donât bother asking how sheâs doing, that would be a pointless question â you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, youâre certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away⊠youâd never seen your mom in so much pain.Â
As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. âDid he not say anything at all about what heâd been doing?â
Yoongi shakes his head. âWe knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.â Again, Yoongiâs expression looks pained.Â
âWhy?â
âA few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and thereâs since been a good few detectives on their case. Taeminâs uncle got some time in prison for it and even though heâs out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him⊠so they killed Seojunâs mom.â Â
The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. âSo Seojun wanted to get back at them?â
Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. âJimin warned him not to, he promised theyâd work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, weâd join in on it.â Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. âWe never got to find out what it was, and each week weâd see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish weâd taken more care.âÂ
Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you donât think you know how. âIâm sorry, Yoongi,â you murmur.Â
He gives a small smile. âFinish telling me what happened.â
Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. âI left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.â Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.
Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. âDid he say whatâs on it?â
âNo,â you shake your head. âAnd itâs probably protected too since the Leeâs wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.â At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. âHe kept saying heâd keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.â
âBut you didnât.â
âI couldnât. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the endâŠâ you trail off, looking down. âIn the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.â You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in.Â
When youâre done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. âMinjun was a fucking psychopath.â
âYeah, he seems like it,.â You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him.Â
âHe has a brother, Kwan, heâs just as crazy, if not worse.â
The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you canât imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasnât really been on your side recently.
âHey,â Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. âYou okay?â
âMhm,â you nod.Â
He smiles softly. âYour wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.âÂ
âThanks, I probably wonât use them though.â
âYeah, I thought youâd say that.â
Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. âItâs not deep is it?â
Yoongi shakes his head. âYou got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,â he looks up at you apologetically, âyouâll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.âÂ
âOh.â You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and youâre sure thereâs more damage to the property that youâre not even aware of.Â
âJimin is making all the arrangements,â Yoongi continues, âbut heâs trying to keep things quiet so I donât know exactly when things will be sorted.â
âHe doesnât have to, I can do it myself.â
âHe wants to,â Yoongi responds. âHe blames himself for whatâs happened, so just let him please.â His words appear to carry more meaning, and you canât imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.
âWhy?â
âHe blames himself for a lot of things,â Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. âThis hasnât helped.â
Even though itâs been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest â ever since youâve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldnât even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you donât know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.
Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, âWhat happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?â
Yoongi looks up, grimacing. âIt started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasnât happy.Â
âAnd then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.â
âTaemin?!â you ask, surprised..
Yoongi nods. âHe knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasnât fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.â His expression darkens. âHe watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. Iâm so grateful we were with him that dayâŠâ He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.
He doesnât need to say anymore for you to know what he means â Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too.Â
Your head lowers too. You donât allow your thoughts to wonder what wouldâve happened if Jimin had been alone, youâre just glad he got out. Though you canât imagine what he mustâve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.
âDid he get to have a funeral for his dad?â
âYeah,â Yoongi answers. âHan-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasnât having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and heâd lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.â
Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything heâs just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that theyâve fallen apart as well.Â
After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. âI was surprised when they brought you in.â You look up at him as he continues. âI thought he mightâve recognised you, but he said nothing.â
âDo you think he does?â you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. âBut heâs just not saying it?â
Yoongi shrugs. âMight be. If he does remember you though, heâll say something.â
âAre you going to tell them?â you ask, looking at him.
âOnly if you want me to.â
After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. âAt least not yet.â
Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything thatâs happened, and then it comes to you.
âDani and Siho,â you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. âDid you get them out?â
Solemnly, Yoongi nods. âI sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.â
âThank you,â you murmur. âLet me know what they say, Iâll sort it out for them..â
Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. âThey knew the risks, Y/N, better than anyone else.â
âI know,â you sigh. âBut itâs different, they were there because of me.â
âYeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,â Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. âSorry if this isnât helping, you know Iâm shit at comforting people.â
You smile. âI know.â
âHey, youâre not any better though,â he says defensively, âyou didnât even hug me properly when my mom passed away.â
âWhat?â you chuckle. âI tried to, but I know you donât like hugs.â
Yoongi shrugs. âNot normally, but then I would've liked it.â
âOhâŠâ Now you feel bad. âReally?â
He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. âItâs okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.â
Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. âYeah, youâre telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?â It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.
âYes, actually,â Yoongi answers simply.Â
Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You donât know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself.Â
As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. âSurprised?â
âKind of.â
âYou knew him though,â he says, as though that makes it so obvious.
âKnew,â you repeat. âI didnât expect him to still be the same.â
Yoongi hums in agreement. âI wouldnât say heâs changed, but I wouldn't exactly say heâs the same eitherâŠâ looking up, he smiles again. âI guess youâll get to see for yourself now.â
âI guess so,â you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you canât ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, youâll get to see for yourself if heâs anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you donât think he wouldâve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.
âDâyou want something a bit more filling than that?â Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple youâve just bitten into. âDinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?â
âOh, yeah, actually,â you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. âI am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.â
âSure,â Yoongi chuckles, âyou must be hungry, youâve been sleeping for almost three days.â
You look up at him with wide eyes. âThree days?!â When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. âI need to call Moni, sheâs probably woââ
âI already have,â Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.
Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. âWhat?â
âI already called her.â
A frown settles on your face. âWhat did you say?â
Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. âEverything, but Y/N, she needed to know.â
âThat wasnât your decision to make.â
âI know,â Yoongi sighs. âSorry.â
For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and itâs not like sheâs a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasnât related to any of the stuff youâve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and whatâs happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.
âSorry,â you say. âYouâre right, I just didnâtâŠâ you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and youâre everything to her, just as she has been yours.Â
âI know,â Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.
âWhat did she say?âÂ
âFirst, she just wanted to know if you were safe,â Yoongi answers. âAfter that, she didnât say much except that sheâll come as soon as she can.â
You nod. Knowing sheâs coming brings a smile to your face, youâve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again.Â
âCome on,â Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, âletâs get you some food.â
âYou still remember it?â Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.
Taking another step, you shrug. âI wasnât that little when I was last here, I mustâve been, what, eleven? Twelve?âÂ
âHm, Yoongi hums. âStill impressive.â He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but youâre doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.
The Park Estate isnât much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jiminâs. Itâs flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the familyâs quarterâs on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge.Â
Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg.Â
As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You canât see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on.Â
âJiminâs room is down there,â he says, answering your unspoken question.
âAh,â you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.
The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.
Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase youâre approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is.Â
As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you donât respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.
âLightningâŠÂ is it a storm?â you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.Â
âYes,â he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.Â
âWhat does it mean?â
âSometimes it can mean power,â he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. âBut sometimes it can also mean punishment.â
You looked up, frowning.
He smiled. âSometimes, too much power isnât a good thing. If youâre not a good person, then it can be dangerous.â
âOhâŠâ You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey heâd used to paint the night sky. In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. âWho is it for?â you asked.
Your dadâs smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. âAn old friend.â
The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia.Â
âMy dad painted this,â you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas.Â
He doesnât say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though heâs never seen it before. âItâs beautiful.â
Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an âold friendâ, you know your father mustâve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldnât trust Han-jae and Jihoon.
Just then, Yoongiâs phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. âCome down if you can, or Iâll ask someone to come up,â he calls out as heâs already walking off towards the stairwell.
âOkay,â you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.
Itâs not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but itâs also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. Thereâs a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and itâs a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldnât return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your fatherâs own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.
You donât realise youâre standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.
âAdmiring the art?â he asks.Â
âMhm,â you hum, still watching his face â you didnât realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you canât stop staring.Â
He chuckles, glancing at the painting. âYou know I was talking about the painting, not me?â
Shaking out of your daze, you smile. âYes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.â
âAh, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,â he nods, still smiling. âIâm Seokjin, but call me Jin.â He extends his hand which you shake.
âY/N, and itâs okay, not your fault.â
âHowâs the wrist?â he asks, pointing to your wrist.
âOh, itâs okay,â you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts.Â
âGood. And the leg?â
âItâs mostly fine,â you nod.
He smiles again. âThatâs good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but itâs looking good so far. I didnât expect you to be up so soon though,â he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.
You shrug.
 âI take it this isnât your first time getting hurt like this?â Seokjin says casually.
 âWhat makes you think that?â
âYou didnât flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gunâŠâ he shakes his head, smiling. âIt definitely wasnât your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.â
Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again. âI guess I like getting shot at.â
âJust like everyone else here,â he laughs. âWell, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.â
âSure,â you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. âSo what about you?â you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell.Â
He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. âWhat about me?âÂ
âThis definitely isnât your first time stitching someone up,â you remark.Â
âAh,â he nods. âDefinitely not.â
You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. âSo youâre a doctor?âÂ
He snorts, stepping along beside you. âNo, but I should be. Iâve done this kind of stuff enough times.â
Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin.Â
âJin hyung!â A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night â the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They canât see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you.Â
They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads.Â
âOh, miss L/N,â the first one comes forward, extending a hand. âIâm Jungkook, nice to meet you.â He has an adorable bunny smile and you canât help but return it with one of your own.Â
âNice to meet you Jungkook,â you reply, shaking his hand. âAnd you can call me Y/N.â
âY/N, got it,â he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly.Â
âHi, Y/N, Iâm Hoseok, Hobi for short,â he grins, shaking your hand.Â
âHey.â You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine.Â
âHow are you feeling?â Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg.Â
âUm, itâs okay,â you smile. âI can still walk at least.â
He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. âWill you be joining us for dinner?â
You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge.Â
Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table youâre sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly.Â
Before any of the guys notice youâre not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what theyâre saying. It hasnât escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasnât recognised you â if he did, surely he wouldâve told these guys since they were there too. Youâre not sure if they know anything at all about you â perhaps you shouldâve asked Yoongi about that before you came down.Â
Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, thereâs some missing.
âAre there more of you?âÂ
Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums.Â
Hoseok answers for him. âThereâs Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.â
âThey were there the other day,â Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly.Â
âNamjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,â Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. âWe always eat together whenever we can and theyâre about somewhere.âÂ
It doesnât escape you that he didnât mention Jiminâs name though.
âTaehyung is probably in the wine cellar,â Hoseok says.
âAh, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.â
Jungkook snorts. âHe thinks heâs a sommelier.â
You smile. âWell, does he make a good choice?â
âI can never tell,â Jungkook shrugs.
Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. âHeâs not matured enough.â
âHey!â Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.
âAh, speak of the devil!âÂ
You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.
âYoongi said youâd come down,â the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. âIâm Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.â
âHi, Taehyung,â you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. Heâs undeniably striking, and thereâs something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.
The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. âIâm Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.â His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. âFinances, logistics, making sure this place doesnât fall apart.â
âNice to meet you, Namjoon,â you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.
Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. âHow are you? I imagine this isnât how you thought your day would go.â
You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. âNot exactly, no.â
Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. âYeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people wouldâve frozen in your position.â
âNot the first time Iâve had to defend myself,â you reply simply, not offering much else.
Thereâs a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.
âSo,â Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. âYoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.â
âSpicy works for me,â you say, grateful for the change in subject.
Jungkook claps his hands together. âGreat! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing â youâll love it.â
As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind â running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.
You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, âSo, Y/N, whatâs your impression of the estate so far?â
âItâs... different,â you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. âBigger than I remember.â
Seokjin tilts his head. âYouâve been here before?â
You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. âNot this one exactly. Just a similar setup.â
Namjoon raises a brow but doesnât say anything else, and youâre thankful for the reprieve.
The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her â Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.
Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. Youâre certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesnât say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.
âThanks, Ara,â Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.
When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesnât. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.
âIf you need anything, let me know,â Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.
Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. âSheâs been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.â
You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.
On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. âDinnerâs ready. Letâs eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.â
Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.
"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.
"Of course. Itâs spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."
"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.
"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.
"More for us then."
As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. âYouâll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,â he says softly. âItâs easy to get lost, but it has its charms.â
You glance at him, wondering if thereâs a deeper meaning to his words. âIâll try not to get lost, then.â
He smiles faintly. âIf you do, just call out. Someone will find you.â
Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. Itâs clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why theyâve been by his side for so long â they feel like a family in their own right.
Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.
âJin-hyung, donât hog all the drumsticks,â Jungkook whines as he watches Jinâs plate pile up.
âThen grab faster,â Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.
Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. âIâm telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.â
âShould I?â Jungkook huffs dramatically. âMaybe next time Iâll just take the whole plate first.â
âDo it, and Iâll poison your portion,â Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.
Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. âDonât worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.â
You smile faintly, watching them banter. Itâs strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.
âY/N,â Taehyungâs deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. âDo you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?â
You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.
âMaybe Iâm just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,â you reply lightly.
Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. âSmart answer.â
Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. âYeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.â
âI heard that,â Jin retorts, mock-offended. âIâm ensuring quality control.â
âYouâre ensuring thereâs nothing left for the rest of us,â Hoseok counters, sipping his water.
As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. Itâs a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate.Â
âBy the way, hyung,â Namjoon says, turning to Jin. âHave you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.â
âOh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?â Jin sighs dramatically. âCanât a guy just eat in peace?â
âItâs your own fault for procrastinating,â Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.
âDonât drag me into your world of schedules,â Jin retorts. âIâm a free spirit.â
âYouâre just lazy,â Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.
âEnough guys,â Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.
Namjoonâs phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseokâs. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.
âSorry, somethingâs come up,â Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. âWeâll catch up later.â
âDonât eat all the dessert without us,â Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.
âLike weâd wait for you,â Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.
âDo they always leave like that?â you ask, genuinely curious.
âPretty much,â Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. âTheyâve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. Itâs a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.â
âOr they just like to be mysterious,â Jin adds, rolling his eyes. âHalf the time, itâs probably nothing.â
You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but thereâs no denying the underlying layers to their lives.
After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.
âYou okay?â Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. âYouâve been pretty quiet.â
You nod, brushing it off. âJust tired, I guess.â
âUnderstandable,â Jin says, rising from his seat. âYou should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.â
The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you canât shake the feeling of whatâs happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come.Â
Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. âItâs bringing back memories, huh?â He asks, seeing right through you.Â
âYep.â You look around. âLoads. I donât know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.â You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.
âI think itâs normal. You were young when you came here and I donât think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?â
Heâs right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoungâs occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, itâs like walking through a memory you canât decide if youâre grateful for or aching to forget.
You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesnât press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.
Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life youâre now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the houseâs front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.
Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly.Â
Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldnât hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driverâs seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.
Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you canât see the estateâs gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind â a familiar marker from years ago.
âWhere are they going?â you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.
âSomethingâs wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. Theyâve been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons theyâre now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.â
You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jiminâs motherâs garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.
As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isnât much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.
Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. âI think youâre due for your meds again.â
You exhale softly, nodding. âYeah, I think so.â
âYou wanna stay here or go back up?â
You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. âMm, I know I slept for days, but Iâm actually still exhausted.â
Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. âThatâs to be expected. Donât worry.â He gestures toward the far end of the room. âWeâll go up, but this time weâre taking the lift.â
You canât help but smile faintly at his consideration. âAppreciate that,â you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.
The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.
Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine â after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.
âMoni?â you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmotherâs face appeared.
The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. âY/N,â she says softly, her voice warm. âHow are you?â
âIâm fine,â you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. âReally.â
She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. âGood. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."
You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. âTell me about Jimin.â
âHe hasnât said anything.â
âAbout recognizing you?â she asks, her brow lifting slightly.
You nod. âNothing.â
She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. âI donât imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You havenât changed much. He, however... heâs different.â
Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.
âLife hasnât been kind to him,â she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. âWhen I last saw him, I didnât see the same little boy I knew.â
A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. âLife hasnât been kind to any of us.â
Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. âDo you remember his father?â
âOf course I do,â you say without hesitation. âItâs hard to forget a man as cold as him.â
âAnd Mr. Lee?â she asks, her tone cautious.
You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. âI know, Moni,â you say quietly, cutting her off.
She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."
âI know it was them,â you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. âThey did it. They killed Dad.â
She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. âThey were his best friends,â she says softly. âAnd then, all of a suddenâŠâ She trails off.
You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. âYouâre there now, though⊠so, do you trust Jimin?â
You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.
âI didnât, at first,â you admit. âBut I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."
She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. âYouâre safe there, Y/N.â
You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. âYou trust Jimin?â
âI do,â she says without hesitation. âI trust him with you, and youâre my everything.â
The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.
âYou need to rest,â she instructs, her tone turning firm again. âIâll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.â
Your lips quirk up at the thought. âThat would be nice.â
"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.
As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.
Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You canât see the part of the grounds where Jiminâs motherâs garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.
As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.
Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.
As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadnât thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.
Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.
âCanât you sleep, little bear?â
The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.
Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier. Thereâs a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.
You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.
Realising what he just said, his words stop you short â itâs the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.
Jimin steps closer, the lampâs dim light casting soft shadows on his features. As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you â a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence. Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, thereâs a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.
âY/N,â he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. âDid you think I wouldnât recognise you?â
âI wasnât counting on it,â you admit, your voice soft. âIâm surprised you remember the book.â
Jiminâs smile grows, faint but genuine. âHow could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.â
âThank me?â you ask, tilting your head slightly.
He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. âIt was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasnât allowed picture books of my own, so⊠thank you.â
You remember then how he once told you about his fatherâs strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books â if they didnât teach something useful, they werenât worth having.
âYouâre welcome,â you say softly.
Jiminâs gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your fatherâs work.
âHe was talented,â Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.
You smile faintly. âHe was.â
After a moment, he adds, âI can have it moved to your room, if you like.â
You shake your head. âNo, no. Itâs okay. This is where it belongs.â
Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. âItâs actually covering up a stain we couldnât remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.â
âMe?â you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.
He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. âYep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didnât want to sleep, so you ran away from her â with all the paints.â
As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. âOh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.â
Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. âWe tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.â
You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. âI canât believe thatâs still here.â
Jiminâs smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. âItâs been a long time since then,â he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.
You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. âYes,â you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. âThough being here again⊠it almost feels like no time at all.â
Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. âI imagine it feels different,â he says, âwithout your father?â
âExactly,â you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. âIt felt safe wherever he was.â
âAnd now?â His question is soft, careful, as though heâs weighing each word before speaking.
You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. âI want to say yes,â you admit honestly, âbut experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.â
Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. âYouâve learned not to trust anyone,â he say, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.
You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming. âYouâre right to think that,â he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls youâve built all too well.
The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, âCan I trust you?â
His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.
âYes,â he says, his voice quiet but certain. âBut youâll make that decision on your own.â
You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. Thereâs no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. Itâs not a promise â itâs an invitation.
âUntil then,â he continues, his voice softening, âplease, make yourself at home. Youâre safe here.â
The sincerity in his words lingers, and while they arenât a guarantee, they feel real.
Jimin doesnât say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too â after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.
His presence feels closer now and you let out a faint smile, glancing back at the painting.
It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jiminâs presence stirs in you â a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.
note. thank you all so much for reading! please donât be a silent reader :â) this fic takes me forever to write and Iâd love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333
#jimin x reader#pjm#park jimin#park jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#jimin series#bts series#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#jimin imagines#jimin fluff#jimin angst#jimin smut#jimin x you#jimin x y/n#bts mafia#park jimin x you#jimin masterlist#bts masterlist
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DPXDC DANNY AND DAMIAN ARE SIBLINGS FIC REC
TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES
DP FIC REC HOME POST
let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any
DEMON SIBLINGSÂ
Off With [The Demon's] Head  T SERIESÂ
As it turns out, Damian is not Talia's firstborn. Not her first child, not her first son. This would not be so horrible if Talia's actual firstborn hadn't been stolen from her as a babe. But he's alive. And he's not alone. As it turns out, Talia is a grandmother. She takes this news surprisingly well. If only Damian did the same.Â
The Devil's After Both Of Us  T 6,143 SERIESÂ
Growing up, Danny's parents had drilled it into him and Jazz the dangers of summoning rituals. Unlike something like a natural portal or the one they built in the basement, a summoning ritual brought ghosts to you without any clear way to send them back home. After Danny's accident, he hadn't thought he needed to worry about summoning rituals anymore. After all, he kind of had his hands full with the whole "Ghosts are real and attacking him and also he's half-ghost now" thing. However, once Danny took up the crown of Ghost King, he found himself having to deal with summoning rituals from the other side. It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't constantly confronted with ghosts of a past he had shoved deep down in his heart.Â
Leap Before You Think  TÂ
Away from his friends and sister for the first time since the Accident, Danny struggles with loneliness and memories of another sibling. A few states away, Sam finds someone oddly familiar at a gala her parents force her to attend.Â
Hey Brother  G 3,371 SERIESÂ
Danny was fourteen and Damian was now seven. And every day he wondered how his little brother went from a cute, giggling baby to a brat out of hell. or: 5 Times Damian Refuses to Call Danny by his Name and 1 Time He Does. or: We're bringing back the classing fanfic trope! Danny dies and gets reincarnated as Damian Wayne's older brother.Â
Everything Is Something To Somebody  TÂ
After being outed to his parents and hunted down by an officially-lost-it Vlad, Danny finds himself down one home, two parents (who had gone full blown Hunter on him), a stable life and education, and a lot of blood. The only thing he had going for him was that the weird British guy he'd landed in front of seemed nice. Maybe he wouldn't turn him over to the Hunters. Meanwhile, Alfred just found a meta clone of Young Master Damian bleeding out in the Foyer, and is definitely Not Freaking Out.Â
Seeds Of The Father  TÂ
Maddie Fenton had been out of the game for years. She had escaped her father and left the League of Assassins behind. But what is she going to do now that her sister has dropped a traumatized child into her lap?Â
Birthright  T SERIESÂ
Now that Damian knew Danyal was alive he would do anything to keep him by his side. Anything.Â
A Phantom's Perch  GÂ
Danny is on the run after his parents find out about phantom. He and Jazz end up in Gotham city where they run into a familiar face.Â
King Daniel Aidan Phantom Of The Infinite Realms  T SERIESÂ
Basically my take on a Damian&Danny Twin AU, idk I'm bad at summaries.Â
Tell Me To Stay  NR SERIESÂ
a summoning leads to familial revealsÂ
We Don't Have To Dance  T 21,739Â
Danny's lost basically everything. After escaping his parents he flew as hard and fast as he could. Why did his core pull him to Gotham? And why did Robin look at him like that?Â
Undead (Technically) Demon Twin  GÂ
Ra al Ghul had a daughter named Talia. Talia had a brief(ish) relationship with Bruce Wayne that resulted in twins Damien and Danyal Al Ghul. They grew up in Nanda Parvati, only really getting to hang out with each other if they were training or fighting. Danyal found out only one of the twins was going to be allowed to survive as Ra's heir, the other would die. Danyal did not tell Damien about this and handled it the only way he knew how. He convinced Ra to send him on a mission, made the mission go horribly wrong, wired a building to explode, killing everyone else who had come on that mission with him, and left enough evidence for everyone to believe he perished in the blast. From there Danyal changed his name to Daniel and got himself adopted by the Fentons. Things went about as well as things can go with ghost-obsessed parents and he ended up a half a through a freak portal accident. Things went okay for a few years until the Fentons (the adults) found out, freaked, trying to kill him/Phantom. Daniel fled and ended up in Gotham, found out his twin was a Wayne and didn't tell said twin he was alive. Shenanigans and a bit of robbery ensue.Â
Blood Sons  T 3,677 SERIESÂ
Damian is confident he is the only blood child of Bruce Wayne because Talia killed any potential child of Bruce's alongside their mother. Bruce finds out years later at a gala.Â
Hey, Who Is Damian? Â TÂ
Ellie comes to Danny after she started having dreams of Dannyâs memories, all of it seems pretty self explanatory until she had blurry visions of an identical boy named Damian Al Ghul.Â
Family Wounds  T 13,130Â
After Damian goes missing, it's all hands on deck to find him except the search turns up his duplicate in a nowhere town in the Midwest. But who is this person and was Talia hiding more than one child from Bruce?Â
Origins (Pt. 1) Damian  G SERIESÂ
Damien had a twin, but the twin was killed. so sad. I'm going to try to update regularly but days blur together. Damien learns how to be a person. He wants to make his family proud and to fulfill his and his brother's dream.Â
Family Means No One Gets Left Behind  TÂ
danny is damian's older brother and the reincarnation of fenton-phantom who remembers his old life and has some of his old powerset, but loves his family So Damn Much and wants them safe and sane againÂ
1(800) Adoption Papers NOT Needed! Its A Two For One Special! ( 1POV Version ) Â T 105,884 SERIESÂ
Dami thought Danny had died. Mother even told him so. So why is it years later that Danny calls for help While proceeding not to explain what he actually needs help with, is causing him so many problemsÂ
Memories Lost In Time  MÂ
Danny just wants to play video games with his friends. He didn't ask for the ghost attacks to ramp up and utterly destroy his sleep schedule. But, it's fine. So long as everyone is safe, it'll be fine. But, why does he feel like he's missing something? Damian thought he'd grown used to abrupt changes in his life. But, when he sees a ghost of someone he knows has long since past, he's thrown off guard. It couldn't be him, could it?Â
Surprise, It's Twins  TÂ
Bruce just wanted to know more about the new Ghost King and perhaps gain an ally, so why does this teenager look like his son? Why is Damian adamant his twin brother died when he's standing right in front of him? Danny wasn't expecting to see his birth father standing in his kitchen, but now that the ghost was out of the bag what was his next move?Â
Two May Keep A Secret If One Of Them Is Dead  MÂ
He refused to be rushed. âAnyway, I decided to look more into the Wayne family, and thereâs one kid that looks exactly like you, Danny.â Tucker flipped his phone around for his friends to see. âHis name is Damian Wayne. Heâs our age.â Tucker watched his friends for their reactions. Sam reached out for the phone so she could get a closer look. DannyâŠDanny stiffened, almost imperceptibly, before he fell into a fake relaxed stance. Danny's been keeping secrets. It's driving everyone mad.Â
Hauntless King  NRÂ
When Danny first met JLD he was barely 17 and Amity had been gone a little over 7 months, now he was a month and a half away from turning 18. Most of the people of Amity had survived, but they had scattered due to the ecto contamination caused by his parents' portal exploding. They hadn't taken the news about him being Phantom well, and the fight that had happened led to damage to the portal that had caused a melt down.Â
Some Kind Of Miraculous Bind  TÂ
Damian Wayne is the heir to the Bat, the Blood Son. Except, he wasn't always the only blood son. There was another, younger heir once, before Damian had left the league and his brother hadn't had the chance to join him. There was one alive heir to the Bat, and a second one, secret to all but him, that was gone. Danny Fenton is already tired of being the Ghost King. Not even six months into his reign, and he's having to deal with ectoplasmic leaking past Amity's borders and new, unknown threats against his people. And the fact that Gotham, the one city that he had mentally marked as off limits, seems to be where most of the problems are isn't helping.Â
An Awkward Family Reunion  G 1,280Â
Damian hates magic. Especially when a crazy magician decides to summon the ghost of his dead relatives to murder him. Including the brother he never mentioned to anyone.Â
Different In Appearance And Personality  G 3,265 SERIESÂ
Damian wasn't the only one that Bruce decided to take and adopt from the League of Assassins, as it turned out Damian had a younger brother. Although it might not be his kid this time, he would never leave the poor boy with the evil league. What he didn't expect was how different the two siblings were, even though they were raised in the same place.Â
Older Brother [Title Is Still To Be Determined] Â NRÂ
Damian and Danyal never have the same lessons. Damian and Danyal never have the same teachers. Daniam and Danyal never have the same missions. Damian and Danyal never have been treated the same. And for all Damian have ever experienced. He always thought that he was treated the worst.Â
Iâve Been Erased Yet My Shadow Remains  M 10,835 SERIES Â
Danny and Damian al Ghul are twins, separated for years. Now, a 16-year-old Danny, injured and afraid after his parents found out what he was, with nowhere else to go; only wants his twin brother. So he travels to Nanda Parbat to find Damian, who he thinks is still a part of the League of Assassins. A 16-year-old Damian travels to Nanda Parbat to steal the weapon Raâs al Ghul has been making and finds someone he never thought heâd see again.Â
Gone But Not Forgotten  TÂ
Danny Fenton's life sucks, somewhat. He has an amazing sister and friends but his parents are getting suspicious and G.I.W. are closing in. He is running out of excuses and there is only one person who could help. His sister would move mountains to save him, would his brother do the same?Â
Acid Eyes  NR SERIESÂ
Danny remembers when he was a child, hugging the only person that ever gave him any comfort, his twin Damian. But Danny gave that up for his brothers safety, he was Damianâs shadow, meant to be a viper in the dark. So when he left and let his death stay like that from the advice of his mother, he ran away to Amity Park. Now, he has to run away from Amity before the Fentonâs can destroy him after they find out his identity as Phantom. Having nowhere to stay, and still away from his brother with a plot brewing from within Gotham, how will Danny learn to live and still protect his brother, especially with the bats around.Â
Persephoneâs Pearls  T 42,904Â
When Danny came to live with them, he had no real memories of his past. That didn't mean he didn't know anything, though, and what he did know he had shared with his very-willing-to-learn sister. Everything from a strange fighting style to a language. Years later, Jasmine overhears a boy bitterly talking about socialites under his breath and immediately reprimands him, only to realize it's not her brother. It's Damian Wayne. Speaking the League of Assassin's dialect. Who now has to worry about assassins at the art gallery. Jokes on him, they're there to be thieves. And long lost twin brothers with amnesia. Cause nothing's easy.Â
Facing His Demons (Or The Demonâs Grandson) Â TÂ
Danny is forced by circumstances out of his control to reconnect with Damian, the long lost twin heâs been purposefully not contacting due to Trauma.Â
Forgotten Demon Twin  T SERIESÂ
Damian forgets he has a twin brother who had been exiled when they were seven. It's time to go pick him up and take him off the assignment. Danny just wants to be left alone in his little city so he can protect it. He doesn't need to be around the twin brother who never talked to him except to belittle him when they were younger... and he definitely doesn't need to be followed by the furry brigade.Â
Death Just Can't Seem To Stick  TÂ
Damian killed Danny (birth name Damon) when he was six and Danny was 10. But death doesn't seem to want to stick. Â
The Fenton Twins  G 15,151 Â
The Demon Twins are unique in the League of Assassins, being the only children. With no precedent to guide their tutors, it's recommended that they have a mission together before their first solo ones. Jasmine Fenton finds two amnesiac boys in a park, not one. This changes the timeline irreparably. Now the pair are just fourteen, and a suspicious car accident has taken their adoptive parents from them. But Damian Fenton has a secret; his memory had returned to him several months prior, when Danyal had his accident in the ghost portal. With his knowledge, the twins and their adopted - but very important, very close, deeply protected - sister decide to make the trek to Gotham in the hope that Batman is willing to take them in. That's not the only thing to hope for, of course. Going to Gotham means they may be spotted. And neither twin wants to think about what might befall them if their mother - or grandfather - discovers they're alive. Or, well, mostly alive.Â
Loss Like A Severed Limb  GÂ
Eight year old Danyal Al Ghul, Son of the Bat and Twin Heir of the Demon's Head, was supposed to be executed. Instead he was secretly sent away and survived. And if Danyal could get out, then surely their Father could get Damian out and keep him safe. Afterall, why should only Danyal get to have soft things like gentle hugs? Or: Danny gets out of the League and sends Batman to get his brother too.Â
Ah, Sunflower  T 63,812 SERIESÂ
Danyal Al Ghul faked his death to give his younger brother a better life and to give himself the life that he always wanted. Damian Al Ghul was happy to learn his older brother was dead. No longer did he have to live under his shadow. As the years go by, though, this changes for both of them. Danny Fenton never got the life he always wanted. Damian Wayne has realized he will never see his brother again. That is, until the bats summon the Ghost King and soon two sunflowers finally start to grow the way they were meant to.Â
Prodigal Of Lazarus  TM SERIESÂ
The al Ghul heir died, which is how Damian al Ghul inherits the title of heir. By technicality, he gets to keep that title even if the eldest son is revived two years later. Some things happens, and eventually Danny is tasked to escort his younger brother, the heir, to their father. They didn't... exactly tell him he's also to be delivered to Bruce Wayne. To be fair, they could really work with their method of communication! (OR OR The adventures of Danny as he traverses to and from Gotham as the technically-not-heir of al Ghul.)Â
Blood Doesn't Always Mean Family  M SERIESÂ
Damian was surprised and delighted to find out that his twin brother, Danyal, was not dead. Though Danny canât say the feelings were mutualÂ
Split Heirs (DPxDC) Â T SERIESÂ
Damian gets poisoned while on a mission by something called Blood Blossoms. The only person who can help them cure it seems to hate Batman with a seething passion. Only Batman has no idea who Phantom is or why he seems to hate him so much.Â
Animals  T SERIESÂ
When the Batfamily, Raâs al Ghul, and Talia all ended up trapped in the Ghost Zone, they are forced to work together to find their way outâby seeking aid from the Ghost King. What happens when Damian recognized the Ghost King was his long-dead twin, Danyal, the brother he had killed long ago?Â
Phantom Assassin  TÂ
Danny used to be Talia Al Ghul's son, until he failed in his mission and Ra's Al Ghul made every assassin in the League turn their blades on Danyal. Now he's in Amity, adopted by a red-headed girl a few years older than him, and attempting to keep a low profile. Hard enough without becoming half-dead in a portal accident that leads to the source of the Lazarus pits themselves.Â
Baptism By Fire  G 12,326 SERIESÂ
Jack, Maddie and Jazz Fenton are dead. Murdered by the hands of the League of Assassins in retaliation for Danny's desertion. Danny will not let them go unpunished for this. He swears it.Â
Donât Ask Me How Iâm Doing (I Donât Want To Lie To You) Â NR SERIESÂ
On the run after escaping his parents hands, Danny went to the place his sister and ex âFraid mates sent him. But why does that man look at him woth misty eyes? And why does he look so similar to the youngest sibling in the bunch?Â
Legacies  TÂ
Damian's been haunted by his Grandfather long enough. It's time to bring in an expert.Â
Farcical Familial Findings For Abnormal Adolescents  TÂ
Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are identical twins. They also don't know each other exist. So when they walk (separately) into the same gala as Vlad Masters (also separately), things can only go wrong.Â
A Crown Without Jewels  T 10,738 Â
Some 8 years after Danny ran away from the League after his own sort-of experience with the Pits, he and his brother happen to reunite in some less than stellar circumstances. Meaning right after Danny fought and heavily injured roughly 27 assassins. Not-- not the best.Â
To Set You Sailing From My Harbor  T SERIESÂ
Daniel James Fenton, now Danny J. Nightingale was tired. He was tired of having to constantly be on alert for people trying to betray him and hunt him down. So when it turns out that he has another family he both didn't know about and doesn't remember, he can't quite bring himself to trust them.Â
Our Deepest Secret (Or Is It Just Mine) Â G 2,634Â
"Any ghost coming to the human world for trouble met the Phantom Twins, and Damian made sure to live up to the nickname Demon. Because Damian had a secret. Damian had a guilt he tried to bury deep, a secret that woke him up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat." He knew this had to be a dream but the fears and secret deep within seemed too realÂ
(Two) Pairs Of Helping Hands  T 1,989 SERIESÂ
Jazz is sick, Danny and Damian come to the rescue! More accurately: Jazz is sick and Danny is in over his head and calls his twin brother to help him out. The things siblings do for each other.Â
My Only Sunshine  T 1,319Â
Damien is patrolling Gotham one night when a voice he never thought he would hear again comes over the coms.Â
My Starlight  TÂ
Damian and Danyal al Ghul have always been connected. That connection should've broken when Damian returned to Nanda Parbat and Danyal didn't, because death is the end, isn't it? Damian doesn't care how inhuman his brother may be. He's going to find his little brother, take him home, and destroy anyone who dares get in his way - and he knows a few birds and bats that won't hesitate to help him.Â
Bat Ghost  TÂ
Bruce is attacked by the ghost of Batman from the future. To get to the bottom of it, he pays a visit to some prominent ghost hunters, and happens to encounter a teenaged half-ghost vigilante (?), who just *happens* to resemble Damian. A lot. On an unrelated note, Tim Drake has done nothing wrong.Â
Close Enough To Be Whole Again  NRÂ
âIf you ever find yourself in danger, go to Bruce Wayne. He will help you.âÂ
His mother had loved him, in her own way. If she hadnât, she wouldnât have helped him escape. If she hadnât, she would have dragged him back to the League of Assassins, to Grandfather. If she hadnât, heâd be dead. She loved him, but she loved the League more. Jack and Maddie Fenton loved him too, they did, but they loved their work more. They loved their work more. After his parents react poorly to his reveal, Danny escapes to the only person he thinks can help him - Bruce Wayne. He doesn't know what to expect when he gets there, but it has to be better than where he is, surely? He certainly doesn't expect to be reunited with his long lost twin brother Damian. It's funny how things work out that way. Danny is 16 years old, not Phantom Planet compliantÂ
The Ghostly Bat  TÂ
The Bat Family were looking for Damain's hidden twin when an explosion at the local burger joint caused them to find him earlier than expected. Danny is confused and angry. As soon as he lost everything, this random man says he's his biological father and is now living with him and his family. Now, nothing makes sense and something deep inside of his is brewing.Â
Trial And Error  T SERIESÂ
Talia tried to have a singular child to be her father's heir. She ended up with two. Damian tried to protect his brother as he was born to do. He failed. Danial tried to be the assassin he was trained to be. He couldn't. Danny tried to be an ordinary child with an ordinary life. Instead he died.Â
What Happened? NR
Danny has escaped the GIW and now lives in Gotham injured. The Bat Family finds him and realizes that Damian knows him, but Danny does not remember his full past. Will they be able to help him and find out what happened to the small boy in front of them?
What Do I Think Of Life? (Baby, Not Much, I Wanna Die) T
Injured and alone in Gotham, Danny gets into a fight he can barely handle. Taken in by a vaguely familiar Robin, against his will at first, he learns about the Bats and the Birds, slowly but surely.
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