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jkstompers · 2 years

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the flower festival | jjk

pairing: alatfsg!couple, jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: sexual tension and corsets don’t mix… unless you have a willing prince that has been dreaming to unlace it himself.

genre: best friends to lovers, smut, fluff, royalty!au, crown princess!oc, prince!jk

warnings: 18+!!, mature!!!!!, making out, some mirror play (barely), heavy petting, oral sex (f + m receiving), cum-eating

word count: 11.8k

author’s note: hello everyone! ๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑ it’s been a while since i’ve posted this couple! i’ve been super hesitant to post this because writing smut is such a weak point for me and i wasn’t satisfied with the smut in this for the longest time, but i’ve edited it enough to make it bearable. so pls let me know what u think! .^◡^. also if there are any typos i am so sorry... but i hope u enjoy either way! (｡>﹏<)

banner pic cred here!

read the previous part here!

patience is a virtue.

on the first of may, that night when jungkook proposed to you. the two of you ended up spending the night in the city. everyone else was allowed to go out and celebrate, but you and jungkook had to be hidden from the public eye, so while you guys were holed up in your apartment; they took shots in honor of the two of you.

alone, you and jungkook did the normal things engaged couples do. eat delivery pizza, watch pretty little liars, and of course: make out.

when you kissed jungkook that night, something changed between the two of you. which was expected, but you can never prepare for how different things could be. there was some awkward talk beforehand, like how you were trying to explain everything after season two (because that’s when jungkook stopped watching.) but, he always knows when and how to strike.

“so are spencer and toby still together? i thought he betrayed her.” jungkook asks intently, biting off a piece of his pizza crust.

you suck in a breath through your teeth. “it’s complicated— you really just have to watch it to understand everything.”

“yeah?” he asks, staring at your face and leaning his cheek against his fist. the sound of emily talking in the back fades into the background for him. he was listening at first— about how toby only did it to protect spencer but soon enough, the words started going into one ear and out the other. he was only really listening to how sweet your voice sounds. you explain the show’s twists and turns because you know jungkook wouldn’t watch the rest of it. he was done with the show by season two. spoby was his ship. finding out that toby was a member of the a team sent him over the edge— he vowed to never watch the show again because it’s treasonous to do that to the woman you love. (and since he vowed to never watch it again, he’ll never know that they actually end up together.)

so as you explain everything, jungkook pretends he’s listening. technically he is. staring directly towards your lips, watching your lips turn into a smile when you realize that he wasn’t catching anything you were putting down. “can you repeat anything i said to you?”

“what?” he laughs, lifting his head from his hand. “my apologies, princess, i was too busy thinking.”

“about?”

“your lips.”

the two of you turned a new leaf. you were in no way going to deny yourself the luxury of jungkook’s lips, especially as a princess; you are allowed everything you could ever want. and all you want right now, is him.

it starts slow, one sweet kiss that has the two of you giggling. three kisses that lead the slower pace. then so on. jungkook swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. the both of you kiss through giggles and gasps. you climb onto his lap after a few minutes of lip locking and sit yourself down on something prominently hard. you can’t help but breathe out a moan at the feeling. it makes jungkook groan against your lips. the feeling of your warm core on him makes his head spin.

he calls for a time out, laying his head against the couch to catch a breather. you know, allow himself to relax. it was fun, provoking jungkook when he was like this: flustered. so as you sit on his lap, his problem is still very evident. you quirk an eyebrow and ask, “are you hard?”

jungkook lets out a little laugh before lifting his head back up to look at you. a roll of his eyes and a small smile as he replies, “not even gonna answer that.” he dives back in, sliding his tongue against yours as you moan out. his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer and closer until you were only one step away from doing the deed.

“are we—” you start but jungkook already knows what you’re going to say.

“fuck— i’m sorry, princess. too much?” he pulls himself away. “you said you wanted to take it slow.” he holds you gently in his lap, not as close as before. he’s biting his lip now, scared that he did take it too far.

you blush. “right— yeah, of course, slow.” you nod incessantly, trying to calm yourself down even though you’re one hundred percent sure your underwear is soaked. your reply puts him at ease, he can hear that you’re as flustered as he is.

with a gentle laugh, he holds your cheek in his hand. “whenever you want it, just know i do too.” he assures you. “but i want to do this right, wanna make sure everything is perfect, you know?” the way he’s tilting his head to the side and giving you that lazy smile; it’s testing your abstinence. you could just take him here and now. but you refrain, understanding that it’s just probably not time yet.

“i know.” you nod again, sheepishly. “hungry?” you ask him as you shuffle off of his lap.

he laughs at the way your face turns pink. “one more kiss.”

and so it went on. day after day. week after week. leading to now. it’s almost the end of may. you and jungkook are doing good, abstaining from sexual desires by basically avoiding each other whenever the urges come. neither of you are sure you can hold out any longer. but the two of you put up a strong front. jungkook doesn’t know that you’d pounce on him within a second if he asked. you don’t know that jungkook would kiss every inch of your skin if you told him he could. there’s just a lot of nervous feelings surrounding sex between the two of you. a kiss is one thing, but sex is another.

besides the copulation conundrum; spring is in full swing. the flowers in raemor are in full bloom. the pretty pastel colors remind you of the special time that comes every year.

the annual raemor flower festival!

every kingdom in the world is invited; they’re welcome to party and stay at the palace whenever the flower festival comes around. with the multiple rooms in the castle, two chateaus under your name, and the jeon family's castle, it was safe to say that you could never run out of space to help house all the families that were invited to the festival.

it took place over a week; sometimes people would stay the entire week, a couple of days, a night, or maybe even just a couple of hours. it was just a huge sleepover party that welcomed every kingdom of the world to check out how pretty the flowers are in raemor. it was also a time to network, befriend more people, and assure that alliances were kept.

you’d heard from blue that this year is expected to be the largest turn out in history, and it’s all because of you and jungkook. your engagement has attracted the attention of almost every kingdom. everyone wants to be invited to the wedding, the coronation, the baby shower— they want to see it all. they want to see the fairytale dream come true!

“are you nervous?” jungkook comes up from behind you, snaking his hands around your waist as he gives you a hug. you’d been watching and assisting the staff as they begin to set up the tables and clean up the garden.

“for what?” you place your hands over his, leaning into his warmth. jungkook was always warm for some reason, even if he wasn’t dressed properly for the weather. just like now, it was still morning and the sun hadn't properly risen. but he seemed to only be wearing a short sleeved shirt and the sweats you got him.

“the festival,” he answers, pulling you closer to him so that you're snug against his front. “i heard everyone is coming, and i mean like, everyone.”

a part of you is nervous, terrified really. it’s your first real, real event ever since your return. your welcome back dinner didn’t really count since it was mostly just family and close friends of the crown. then the suitor/supposed-to-be engagement party didn’t really count because you didn’t do much besides sit down, chat, and mope about jungkook. but this, this was a meeting that involved international relations. people that you haven’t seen in years, and some you haven’t even met yet. “kind of,” you shrugged. lying through your teeth.

“your mother was talking to me about how she’s gonna make you redo your etiquette training,” he informs you. you turn around, ready to argue your cause that you’ll do just fine, but you got side tracked easily.

jungkook is just so pretty. the title of prettiest prince was well deserved, because when you turned around, one look at his face was enough to make you stutter and stumble over your words. “she— she what?! when?”

“yeah, i think she will be training you for the days leading up to the festival.” he explains, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweats. his morning look is unreasonably attractive. messy hair and slightly puffy face. if you could, you’d shower his face in kisses right now. realizing your stare, he smiles. “like what you see?”

you roll your eyes, “yes, my pretty prince.” you press a finger onto his chest, “you better help get me out of etiquette lessons or else.” you warn before walking back into the castle. you continue pointing to him with a direct glare as you pass the big double doors that lead back into the castle. you can only see his face break into a smile before he shrugs sarcastically.

“you’re on your own, princess!”

you’d learned that jungkook wasn’t lying about your mother wanting to redo your etiquette training. she wasn’t impressed by the way you carried yourself during your would’ve-been engagement party. so, for the past few days you’ve been balancing books on your head because she said that you slouch your back when you walk. then at dinner she would be eagle-eyed, making sure you were picking up the right utensils. she would correct your legs when you were sitting, telling you to cross at the ankles and to sit the right way.

“i can’t even breathe properly, according to her.” you groan, walking with jungkook down the hall and to the garden. another one of your mothers training sessions was about to start. she warned you not to be late or else she’d make it extra long today.

it was the day before the festival. in a few hours, it would be the welcoming dinner which is when everyone will attend. some guests had already started to arrive but your mother wasn’t satisfied by the way that you still weren’t able to walk with three books stacked atop your head. she just had to squeeze in one more etiquette class.

“at least it’s done after today,” he laughs, “then you just have to remember what you learned and make sure you’re being the most princess-y princess.”

“right,” you scoff playfully.

“___! come on! we’ve got to get started now!” your mother calls from the edge of the garden. you look at jungkook, silently pleading for him to save you before you walk down the stairs and to her.

he goes inside for a little bit; answering questions from the early arriving visitors and helping the staff put the finishing touches on everything. before he goes back outside to meet with you, he grabs some tea and a little snack for the both of you. when he comes out, you’re walking in a straight line with three books stacked on your head. they looked heavy, he wonders if it hurts.

jungkook watches from afar, smiling at the way you wobble when you walk. bottom lip stuck between your teeth in concentration. you’re just about to finish the walk when the top book falls, making the rest of the fall too.

“where has your good posture gone, my child?!” your mother giggles from the other side.

“highschool and college will do this to you, mother! this is how you know i was a good student!” you groan, picking up the books and trying it again.

you were determined, and you’d eventually get it. the second try you were able to walk back and forth the line without dropping the books. when your mother approves, you plop onto the grass beside the cobblestone. a sigh of relief coming from your mouth.

that’s my girl, jungkook almost says out loud before he realizes a presence beside him, startling him. she’d probably been standing there for a while. there was a slight grimace on her face, staring— almost glaring— your way.

“it is quite bizarre that the people want to make her queen, isn’t it? i mean, look at her,” she scowls. jungkook looks around to see if she’s talking to anyone else, but he’s the only one near. obviously, she was talking about you, she was facing your way and mentioned the fact that you’d be queen. you’re next in the line of succession, of course you’d be queen. it was dumb thing for her to say.

he turns and looks at her with a disgusted, but mostly confused expression. “she is the king's daughter— we don’t have to make her the queen, she is going to be queen, it’s in her blood.”

she’s quiet at first from the response. apparently she was expecting a different reply. jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever met this lady. she seems just a little older than the both of you. he suspects she’s probably from here, a highborn of some noble. it’s both surprising but somehow expected. there’s been reports recently of some extremist raemorians that have spoken out against your becoming of the queen. they don’t trust you, as you’ve been gone for so long and only come back now. they see it as you’ve abandoned them, and only came back to marry jungkook, and if you were to choose, you’d rather be with the outside world than raemor.

but jungkook knows that’s not the case— he can see how much you missed the kingdom. in the way that you spend a little more time walking around than you used to. the way that you take forever when you talk to the citizens of the village. you care about raemor— not just because of jungkook or because you had to come back. but because this is your home, this is your birthplace, this is your family.

“she doesn’t behave like a princess, let alone a queen.” she rolls her eyes, breaking jungkook out of his train of thought. “if only the queen bore another child, maybe they would be more worthy of the crown.”

it was bold of her to be speaking this way about you and your family. especially to him. she had to have known that jungkook was a close friend of the crown. there are pictures and paintings of all of you around the palace, some in the city too— did she think he secretly despises you? she could not have been more wrong.

“i’m not sure who you think you’re talking to, but if you don’t want to be on the kings bad side, i suggest you keep your statements to yourself, because that girl there—” he points to you, successfully walking with four books stacked atop your head. a smile on his face before he finishes his statement, “—is my betrothed, and i will not hesitate to defend her.”

that seems to get her, and if she wanted to say more, jungkook didn’t give her the chance. he walked down the stairs and to you just after, scones on a plate in one hand and tea in the other.

“great job on the books.” he congratulates, handing the plate to you.

“thank you,” you give him a proper curtsy. “are we done now, mother? i wanna take a nap.” turning to your mother with a mouthful of food. she gives you a playful glare. you chew your food fast and swallow before asking again. “please?”

“one hour,” she tells you. “you’ve got to be up and ready before it gets dark, it's the welcome dinner tonight, you know that.”

“you got it!” you smiled, taking jungkook’s hand and dragging him back into the palace, up to your room and plopping onto your bed. a good nap is what the two of you need, especially since the two of you have been waking up at seven in the morning to help out these past few days.

the sound of the alarm on your phone blaring makes you jolt up, jungkook too. “your alarm is a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he rubs his eyes. he was right, it was the scary one, that sounded like you pressed the wrong button in a control room.

“how else am i going to wake up?” you laughed, shutting off the alarm and stretching in your bed. “time to get ready.” you sigh against your sheets, eyes fluttering closed once more.

jungkook pulls you up when he sees that you’re about to fall asleep again. “rise and shine, princess.” your body feels like jelly, you collapse against him and groan.

“protect me from the corsets, jungkook.” you plead against his chest.

“you don’t have to wear them.” he shrugs, “jieun didn’t—” and you’re sending him a glare before he can finish the sentence. “sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck.

“mother said i have to— she said it will help my posture.” you groaned. “plus, she said if i wasn’t wearing my corset for the festival— she’d find me and put it on me herself— i am not risking that.” you shake your head in fear.

“fair enough.” jungkook laughs. trying once more to get you up but you plop down again, unable to leave the comfort of your sheets.

speaking of your posture, your mother would be disappointed if she saw you right now. your spine was at an almost ninety degree angle, jungkook tries to hold you up but you keep slumping down. before you know it, your doors are being opened and the sound of your two best ladies rings in your ears. “it’s time, princess!” chaeyoung jumps onto the bed.

“we’ll take it from here, your highness.” chungha tells jungkook, and he nods, letting go of your jelly body gently and watching as you plop back down on the bed.

before jungkook leaves the room, he raises your left hand and gives a gentle kiss to your ring finger. “i’ll see you later, princess.” he smiles against your knuckle. it’s the only thing that got you to sit up, so you could look at him properly. after you bid him adieu, he makes his way back home to get ready himself. his friends are also hiding out in his room, ready to style the prince for the flower festival.

the dress you chose was beautiful, a pretty light green color that reminds you of the leaves from the flowers you were celebrating today.

they allow you to get into your undergarments and when you’re ready, they help you slide the loose corset on. it’s been five years since you last wore one. your ribs and stomach have been allowed to be free and enjoy life. but now, it’s once again being subjected to weird and unusual punishment.

chaeyoung and chungha promise that it shouldn’t hurt too bad. it’s supposed to be one of the most comfortable corsets in the market.

“just remember, take in all the air you can and then hold it, yeah?” chaeyoung explains. you nod, taking in a few more breaths before she moves behind you alongside chungha. “okay, ready, breathe!” she calls out, pulling the laces and pulling them tightly.

they were right about it being a lot more comfortable, it felt nice against your skin but it was still a corset. after some time, even the finest fabrics will feel like sandpaper.

“we’re late.” chungha points out, nodding towards the clock that reads 7:15.

“crap!” you gasped. “does it really take that long to help a girl dress up?!” they finish tightening the corset and rush to slide the gown on. they cinch the waist of the dress and tie the knots into pretty bows.

“corsets are an art, they take time,” chaeyoung says. she would know, half of her closet is corsets; she loves the hell out of them. she was studying fashion the last time you checked, you hope she still is.

you’re sitting at your vanity, digging through your jewelry box to see which pieces would look good with your dress. chungha styles your hair. she decides to go for a flowy look today, leaving your hair down and adding some texture with gentle curls before adding tiny flowers through the strands to match with your dress. you were truly raemor's crown princess with this look. chaeyoung applies your makeup, a natural look with neutral browns to fit in with the nature theme you were going with. then you were sifting through the necklaces you own, deciding on the simple gold chain and dainty gold rings. last but not least, the honorary raemor flower crown that is passed down to every princess of raemor. it’s been yours for the past twenty years. it’s never fit as perfectly as it does today.

“you are stunning, princess!” chaeyoung and chungha praise you as you stand from your vanity, giving them a little twirl, they cheer some more.

you let out a laugh, “are you ready for one of the biggest parties of the year?” raising your eyebrows.

you all let out a whoop and make your way outside of your room. allowing the three of you to calm down as you walk out and towards the ballrooms second story entrance. you and your ladies looking prim and proper as you arrive half an hour late to the celebration. you stop just in front of the door and the announcer calls out the names of your ladies first, the two of them step through the huge doors and walk down the stairs on their own.

as you let out a breath, you tell yourself that all the nervousness will go away. that you won’t tumble down the stairs and that your crown won’t fall when you bow and curtsy. when you hear the announcer call your name and the big double doors swing open for you. your breath is caught in your throat. the sight of at least a thousand people in one room; it frightens you.

it’s almost silent in the room, the only noises were quiet gasps, whispers, and the faint entrance music playing in the background. your eyes search through the room to find someone familiar, your mother, your father, your ladies, anyone! and just as you thought you were about to run away. you spot jungkook at the back of the room, in front of the open doors of the ballroom with the biggest smile on his face. he’s so handsome, his hair parted and his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo. seeing him makes your nerves wash away.

with that, you bow your head slightly and begin your descent down the stairs. you watch as jungkook snakes his way around the crowd to make it to your side when you reach the bottom of the steps. you bow once more and a round of applause breaks out into the room. multiple praises, shouts of compliments come your way and you can’t help but blush.

“you are breathtaking.” jungkook approaches you, whispering close to your ear.

“as are you,” you tell him. he smiles at you as he holds his arm out for you to hold. you greet everyone as you make it through the huge room, saying hi to people you haven’t seen since you left, to people you’ve never met before, and to people you just saw an hour ago. at the end of the line, your parents stand, proud of their beautiful daughter.

“you really are the crown princess of raemor.” your father takes you into his arms, kissing atop of your head.

your mother sneakily checks if you’re wearing a corset by giving you a hug, her arm wrapping around your waist to check for the ribs of the garment. “you’re doing amazing, my love.” she laughs, “i won’t torture you about it anymore.”

“thank you.” you groaned. laughs erupt between the two of you and she tells both you and jungkook to go and mingle. it was the best time to form stronger alliances and now since the two of you are officially engaged, everyone will want a piece of the pie. they want to know if they’ll be invited to the wedding, if they’ll be in the wedding party (even though you aren’t close to most of these people.)

and that was exactly the case when it came to the marchioness of spain. you never really knew her all that well, she doesn’t really come around very often and you’ve only ever visited spain twice in your entire life. jungkook had separated from you because the prince of france took him away for a drink with him and his buddies, leaving you with his sister: the princess of france and the marchioness. they’re apparently the best of friends.

you’re on your third fake laugh when the marchioness finally asks what you think she’s been itching to this entire conversation. “have you chosen your maid of honor yet?” she asks.

with a pained smile, you shake your head and lie through your teeth. “no, i haven’t.” of course, i have. it’s seungyeon.

she gives you a little wink, “well, i’m always open to it, you know?” you know she’s being serious by the way that she looks so hopeful about it. it made you feel kind of bad. but the maid of honor spot is meant for someone that you’re actually close to, not someone that you felt bad for. you could only give her another big, fake smile. in hopes that she’ll lay off the idea.

the princess of france butts in, “but you’re married, you can’t be a maid of honor.” she swirls her champagne around in her flute, shooting the marchioness a look.

“i can be a matron of honor.” she bites back. her eyes narrowed and a very apparent glare started to form. the two of them begin having the most intense staring contest in the world. you couldn’t even believe you were in the middle of this.

from behind you, your knight in shining armor comes just in time. jungkook coughs, getting your attention before speaking. “princess, your father has been searching for you.”

“oh—! right! i must go, ladies, my apologies.” you excuse yourself with a quick bow of your head and take hold of jungkook’s arm as he leads you away. “thank you.” you squeeze his arm gently and lean into him. “i never realized how exhausting talking to aristocrats— being that we are also.”

“well, they’re… you know—“ he laughs.

you finish his sentence for him, knowing he’s too nice to say it out loud. “annoying?”

“yes, exactly.” he laughs.

“princess!” the duchess of gotia approaches you, eunwoo’s mother. she’s known to be the mother, actually. she’s always offering to babysit the royal children. you always found it very sweet. she loves being a mother, so with her interaction, you know exactly what she’s going to say. “so…” she sing-songs. “how is it coming?” she asks, signaling towards your belly.

“uh— well," you laugh awkwardly and jungkook quickly answers for you.

“duchess, we aren’t even married yet.” he shoots down the idea immediately.

“well, if you ever need a babysitter, you know who to call!” she smiles brightly. “you have been the greatest to my eunwoo, and i would like to express my gratitude whenever you need me.”

“of course,” you nodded with a smile. “we will let you know when the time comes.” you tell her hesitantly, looking up to jungkook, only to see that his eyes have averted to looking anywhere except you.

she walks away to converse with the ladies when another pair of highborns decide to approach you. for the third time tonight, you and jungkook have maneuvered your way around and avoided the talk of an heir. how awkward was it to talk about babies when you guys haven’t even touched third base yet.

“everyone please gather! it is time for dinner!” clementine announces and you let out a sigh of relief. you and jungkook make it to your assigned table and sit down next to each other.

before anyone starts eating, the king and queen are supposed to make a speech about how thankful they are for everyone that has visited, how they hope everyone enjoys the flowers, and then wishes them well as they allow them to dig into their meal.

but the speech has gone on for quite a long time this year, your father was rambling about how this is the first flower festival with you back and how hard it’s been without you. it’s a touching speech, really, but your father always finds a way to skew the speech in a different direction; even when he doesn’t mean to. it’s been five minutes and now he’s talking about how tough of a winter it was this year and how he was afraid that the flowers were frozen and gone forever.

jungkook glances over to see you hunching your back, it looks uncomfortable, and it must be if you’re in a dress like that. multiple ties in the back and metal ribs to cinch in your waist. so he decides to help you out a little bit. sneakily, his hand moves to your back, pushing slightly. “straighten your back, love.” he whispers in your ear.

your back straightens immediately, a shiver runs down your spine as well. “thank— thank you.” the slight touch and his words make you quiver, having to take a breath to stabilize yourself and assure that you don’t start making out with him in the middle of your father’s speech.

he takes his hand away from your back swiftly, but not before he takes a quick look at the intricate lacing in the back. tightly woven for the appearance of a defined waist. “does it hurt?” jungkook visibly winces.

“just a little,” you pinch your fingers together. “but you get used to it after a while.” you shrug.

“are the laces too tight?” he asks after staring at the ties for a while. “i can tell chaeyoung,” he suggests.

you shake your head, “i’m fine— promise.”

your father finally finishes his speech with a request for everyone to raise their glass and cheers to the celebration of the flowers, thanking the higher powers for everything before telling everyone to dig in.

after dinner was when the princes and princesses would talk, in this case: jungkook (since you were too nervous to talk). for some reason, he was really nervous today. jungkook is never nervous, he’s always confident about what he’s going to say. but now it was his turn to be corrected. his leg was bouncing like crazy, the table jumps every now and then from his knee knocking it. so you place your hand atop of his thigh, gently telling him to cease the movements. it works, he pauses and stares at your hand with wide eyes. they flicker between your hand and your side profile. you stare straight, listening to your father talk (he was supposed to just introduce jungkook, but ended up making another speech) while your hand comforts his restless leg.

jungkook tries to keep it under control, but your hand is inches away from his groin, and he tries to deny the blush that rushes over his face.

his hand covers yours and gives you a gentle squeeze. it makes you turn to look at him, a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. a straight face with eyes that wander, stern but mischievous at the same time.

he pulls your hand off of his leg and redirects it to your lap, giving you a little smile before letting his hand ghost the skin of your exposed thigh. the slit on your dress is unhelpful when it comes to modesty and trying to be subtle about how you feel towards jungkook, both emotionally and sexually. a slight touch from jungkook topples the dominoes. goosebumps raise on your arms, your breath is caught in your throat, and now suddenly, your core is a lot warmer than before.

your father continues to ramble about the history of the soil and how every flower and plant can grow on the grounds of raemor. jungkook’s hand is still on your lap. you’ve calmed down now, the urge to pounce on him has subdued to just wanting to kiss him right now. he’s gorgeous, as always. a perfect side profile, hair styled so prettily, and his skin so soft against yours.

“and to keep the night going, a word from our prince, jungkook!” your father finally announces.

you plant a kiss on his cheek before he gets up, “good luck.” you whisper in his ear and he gives you a bright smile before he makes his way up to the stage.

after the welcome applause dies down, jungkook taps the microphone and introduces himself as if no one in the room knew him. then he goes on about how lucky he is to be living a life like this. how privileged he and everyone in the room is. and how excited he is for the future of raemor and the world. he ends the speech with a sweet shout out to you. “and as we are here celebrating the best blooms of raemor, i’d like to thank the prettiest flower, our princess ___, for being my best friend and my fiancée— now let us party!”

you blush. your hands covering your face because of how cute it was. jungkook received a loud applause, credited to his friends who whoop and shout as he comes down the stage. once he comes back to the table, he gives you a big kiss and the two of you laugh at how cheesy his ending sentence was.

the party starts up once more, the mc’s orchestrate the music and multiple people join, waltzing and turning upon the shiny ballroom floor. jungkook wants to dance with you. so he lifts his hand from your lap to ask for a dance.

jungkook knows you don’t exactly like dancing, but you always take the chance to dance with him whenever it’s given to you. plus, with this dress, how could you not groove and twirl around?

a dance sounds so innocent, the gentle movements of ballroom dancing and the easy one, two steps. but jungkook is a pro, despite your novice skills, he lets you step out of your comfort zone. trying dips and lifts with you. the slight touches against your hips, your waist, and down your arms. you had no idea how to exactly explain it, but you felt something burn inside of you.

when jungkook pulls you in for another twirl, his hand ever so slightly grazes just underneath your breast, his thumb running over the clothed skin. you jolt back abruptly and jungkook is startled. pulling his hands down to yours immediately. “is everything alright, princess? would you like to take a break?”

you nod, “please.” you let go of his hands and walk off the dance floor. jungkook is hot on your heels as you head to your table to get a drink of water. soon, the burn from deep inside begins to travel. your face began to burn up, your fingertips, and your skin. suddenly, your corset was way too tight, your shoes were a size too small, the crown on your head felt like thorns— everything was bothering you. you knew it was because you wanted jungkook so bad.

“is there anything i can get you?” he comes up behind you. a hand gently caresses your arm. his touch is hot. it was so hard to control these feelings. love was hard enough, but now lust clouds your view.

“i’m— i’m fine,” you take another sip of your water. “i just need to sit down.”

he sits down with you, worry encompassing his face. “are you sure everything is okay? is it your dress? i can call one of your ladies to help.”

you shake your head, “i’m fine.” reassuring him that it was okay, it’s just that incredulous, incessant burn.

“alright.” jungkook nods. “i won’t leave your side, just let me know if you need anything.” he tells you, and you nod. thanking him even though you knew if you wanted to keep this abstinence promise, you were gonna need to be as far away from him as possible.

you try to spend the next ten minutes calming down, but with jungkook sitting in front of you, conversing with other princes and highborn from his seat— he looks too good. he’s leaning back, arm around the empty chair next to him, his body is still facing you but his face is turned to talk to his friends that are at the next table. it just makes him look even hotter. if that was even possible. the promise that he wouldn’t leave your side made you melt, and it’s only contributing to the problem between your thighs. you cross your legs and squeeze, trying to relieve some of the ache but it doesn’t work. you need to leave now or you need jungkook to help ease this tension.

and there was nothing wrong with asking for it.

“actually— jungkook,” you sit up. taking his attention away from yugyeom who sat at the table behind him, showing him something on his phone. “can you help me? the lacing on my corset is starting to become unbearable.”

he stands up immediately, holding his hand up for you to hold as you get up from your seat. “oh— sure, princess, let me get chae—“

“no! it’s okay— could you just help me to my room?” you interrupt him, a sweet look on your face. your intentions are quite evil, and you wonder if he can see right through you. “please?”

“of course, princess.” he agrees. excusing himself from the conversation with yugyeom. his arm is out for you to hold, and you take it gleefully.

you weave through the massive ball room to get to your parents table, tapping your mother on her shoulder to inform her. “i’ll be taking a break in my room with jungkook.” she nods and laughs, clearly not paying attention to whatever you were saying because her friends were telling her about a trip they had in bali.

so the two of you make it up the stairs, down the main hall and to your room. you let yourselves in and lock the door behind you. “oh— thank god,” you sighed. jungkook was already on your bed, back against your comforter and eyes straight to the ceiling.

“suffocating conversations and a device around your waist that basically chokes you, are you a sadist or something?” jungkook jokes, laying on his side with his head resting against his hand.

“i don’t take pleasure in making people cry, jungkook.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “i think the word you’re looking for is masochist.” taking off your heels, you make your way to your bed and jungkook makes some space for you. you groan as you plop down onto the bed. in the minute that you’re laying down, jungkook takes the liberty to put something on the tv and dim the lights a little. as the movie plays in the background, you lay there on your stomach, arms feeling like jelly as you try to untie the laces of your corset by yourself.

jungkook watches as you flail your arms. stifling a laugh, he asks, “do you need help, princess?”

“yes, please.” you pout.

“okay, i’ll call your ladies and—"

“jungkook, you’re already here— do you want to try? i can talk you through it.” you sit up, looking him in the eye.

jungkook tries to hide the way that his eyes almost bulge out of his head. gulping, he asks, “are— are you sure you want me to help? i can get them up here quickly.”

“please?” you ask him sweetly. you can see that he’s eager, that he is willing; but you know he’s too much of a gentleman to admit something like that. especially in this abstinence period the two of you are having now. so you shrug a little bit, “unless you don’t want to, then i can go find them myself, it’s no problem.”

he lets out a shaky breath. jungkook isn’t sure how to explain why he’s worried. the thought of helping you out of a corset is intimate. he’s had many, many dreams about it. so you asking him, leads him straight into a trap. one that the two of you have been avoiding ever since you first kissed.

but you’re asking so nicely, the sweetest look in your eyes that he knows has to be intertwined with evil. because why else would you be asking your best friend— soon to be husband— to undo the ties of your corset?

he’s thought about it for all too long now. to the point where he just thinks, fuck it. so he nods. “i’ll help you.”

“are you sure?” you tilt your head. he only comes closer, nodding his head as you scoot back a little bit, so that you’re closer as well. out of habit, his hands move to your waist automatically. you have to take a slight breath to calm yourself down before continuing. “okay,” you mentally prepare yourself. “untie this first,” placing your hand where the dress holds itself together. he pulls the silk bow apart easily, and the material of your dress falls. leaving the corset laces out and ready to be loosened. you point to the bow just at the middle of your back, “then pull this apart.”

the string is pulled and the knot is undone successfully. jungkook looks at you through the mirror in front of you. the moment is something you’d find in a romance movie. the dim lighting is inherently sensual, and the volume of the tv fades into the back as the two of you only focus on eachother. the mirror compels the two of you to make eye contact every now and then. jungkook successfully unties the very professional bow chaeyoung tied and looks to you again for reassurance. you give him a soft smile and a quick nod.

with that, he asks. “what now?” he’s a little closer than he was earlier. that familiar feeling between your legs starts up once again. you try to hide it, shifting your weight every now and then, squeezing your thighs together.

jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

“pull the strings here,” you cough. you bring your hands up to hold his, bringing them to the laces. “to loosen them.”

he nods, swiftly going through with your instructions. jungkook can feel the heat radiating off of your body, he can also see the way that your cheeks are turning pink and how warm your hand was against his. to comfortably pull the laces, he lifts your hair and brings it to your front. his fingers ever so slightly brushing against your neck; the slight touch making you lean your head as if he were diving in to kiss it. jungkook can see that too, it makes him smile. the pure want that radiates off of you matches the passion he’s been trying his hardest to bury.

pulling gently on the strings and watching as they tug apart, the integrity of your corset deteriorates as the strings pull further away. your bare back begins to show. your hand moves to the front of the corset, holding it close to your chest and (barely) trying to keep everything modest.

“should i keep going?” jungkook whispers in your ear, entirely too close for comfort but it feels so nice. his voice is so smooth, it goes straight to your core, only adding to the intense warmth. his question was a double edged sword. asking if he should keep unlacing your corset and at the same time, keep going with this. “do you want to?” he adds.

“yes,” you nod. a look in the mirror shows you a different jungkook, one that is filled with desire.

instead of pulling that last lace to completely deem your corset useless, he catches you off guard, sitting straight and undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. your eyes almost bulge out of your head when he takes his shirt off, his bare chest out for you to see. it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but in the moment, you can’t help but stare.

he covers your shoulders with the shirt, making sure the front of the shirt covers your chest before he pulls out the last knot. in turn, the top becomes loose and falls forward into your grasp. the feeling of the cold air against your warm skin makes goosebumps rise. jungkook’s shirt is the only thing keeping you from full-on flashing him with your breasts. you hold the shirt closed with your hand as you let the rest of the dress fall off of your body, you gently kick it to the side and leave it on the floor beside your bed. putting his shirt on properly, the cold silk brushes against your arms.

when you turn around, jungkook is further than he was. no longer was he close enough to whisper in your ear and make your shiver from his lips ghosting your neck. he’s now sitting with his back against the headboard and he’s staring. he sees how pretty you look in his shirt and that your legs are clad, only in the black underwear you were wearing. he tried his best not to stare. when he realized that you caught him, he changed his focus back onto the tv. he clears his throat, “comfortable now?”

you hum, “very.” he looks so delectable, your multicolored lights don’t help your hunger; the lights reflect off of him in the prettiest way. his legs are parted just enough, and you can imagine how it would feel if you sat between them. “can i sit with you?” you ask, a devilish idea sprouting in your mind.

“of course,“ he nods, “c’mere, princess.” patting the spot next to him. you have other plans, crawling into the space between his legs. jungkook doesn’t protest, rather, just a surprised look on his face when you rest your back on his front and sit yourself flush against him.

“is this okay?” you asked, turning back to look at him.

he nods, gulping. “yeah— yeah, of course.”

jungkook forces his eyes not to stray just below him, where the valley of your breasts is exposed because you didn’t bother to button the shirt up all the way. his eyes try to stay focused on the avengers saving the world, but from his peripheral vision, he can see the way that his shirt barely clings onto your breasts. if you were to move an inch, the shirt would slip easily.

on your end; jungkook is taking too long. you thought he would have made a move by now. his bold words and actions earlier when he was undoing your corset had your expectations high, but now it looks like he’s actually focused on the infinity stones. you shift a little against him, making the hand that was resting on his leg fall onto you. he pulls back immediately, as if he’d burned himself on your skin. “sorry,” he flushes.

you laugh, “it’s okay.”

as always, jungkook is too much of a gentleman to speak his dirty mind. every few minutes or so, you can sense his eyes changing their focus from the tv to the gap in his shirt you’re wearing. the little glimpse of your cleavage is enough to make his face flush and his dick start to stiffen. “fuck,” he whispers to himself.

“hm?” you turn your head to look at him. the devil on your shoulder telling you to kiss him and tease him. when he makes eye contact with you, you spot his bottom lip between his teeth.

“don’t do this to me, princess.” he practically begs, on his last thread of self control when you turn a little more. the shirt shifting and revealing more. “i’m afraid i can’t hold back any longer.”

giving him a gentle kiss against his jaw with a smirk on your lips before you say, “then don’t.”

he sighs, leaning his head back against the headboard. “you—“ he starts, lifting his head back up after he’s gotten his thoughts in order. “princess, don’t you want to wait?”

“do you still want to wait?” you ask him, sitting up and covering yourself in a quick haste. jungkook is silent. if he was honest, he was scared. he didn’t really know why, but he just felt like he would mess it up somehow. plus, waiting for the right time wasn’t so bad, despite him wanting to devour you right now, he’s a man of self control. he won’t push anything you don’t want. patience is a virtue, he tells himself. so he gulps, not saying anything, just staring back at you.

he takes too long to answer, and it just makes you more insecure. you can’t even look at him straight in the eye anymore, afraid you humiliated yourself in front of your best friend. you start buttoning up the top as you speak, “i’m sorry— i just… didn’t want to wait anymore.”

and in that moment, jungkook says fuck patience.

reaching out to stop your hands from doing another button. your eyes shoot up, making eye contact with him. “i’m sorry, princess— i didn’t know.”

“wasn’t it obvious by the way i’m throwing myself at you right now?” you giggled which in turn makes jungkook laugh as well.

but the energy in the room is far from family friendly, the laughs that leave jungkook make him even more delectable. he has that lazy smile on again. he raises his hand from your buttons to your face, gently rubbing your cheek before he dives in for a kiss. one that leads the two of you into a great deal of swapping spit.

he smiles against your lips, “i just needed to hear you say it.” his other hand snakes under the shirt, placing it on your lower back and pulling you close. jungkook’s bare chest against your silk covered one. sneakily, using his other hand to unbutton the ones you’ve done up.

you look up and beg him with your eyes to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. “please,” you nod.

he tsks, shaking his head. “need you to tell me what you want, my love.” his hands continue to roam under the silk shirt, you can feel the way they inch closer and closer to your breasts.

“i— i want you to touch me.” you tell him.

he hums. accepting your request. gently pulling the garment away from your chest, your breasts out for him to cherish. he takes his time admiring them before bringing his warm hands and running them over your stiff buds. enveloping you in a messy kiss as he continues. the cold metal of his gold signet ring is a stark contrast to the warmth of your bodies, it makes you shiver and groan against jungkook’s lips. feeling so sensitive and so ready. it was embarrassing for you to admit that you were so wet, the anticipation has you dripping. “like this?” he continues to play with your breasts. paying close attention to your nipples because he loves the way that you react when he adds a little pressure.

“more,” you plead, breaking the kiss. “please— jungkook.”

he lets out a little laugh at your willingness. his hands move to your back, giving you another kiss before repositioning the two of you and gently laying you against the pillows. he presses another kiss on your lips before moving down, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. further down to your collarbone, between your breasts, and then deciding to give love to both of your nipples.

it makes you giggle, in turn making him smile against your skin. you always thought that something like this between you and jungkook would be way too awkward, no matter how many times you’ve thought and dreamed about it— you’ve never thought of it being so… natural with him.

you aren’t allowed to be in your thoughts long before he allows his mouth to latch onto your nipple, sucking lightly and running the tip of his tongue against the bud. making you whimper and instinctively running your hands through his hair. “fuck— jungkook, more, please— please.”

“are you sure, princess?” he brings his head up, making eye contact with you. he looks so pretty. it’s unbelievable really. messy hair, red lips, and cheeks ever so slightly tinted pink.

“absolutely,” you tell him.

before he goes any further, he moves back up to give you another kiss. “i love you,” professing his love with another gentle kiss that makes you feel surrounded by angels and clouds.

“i love you,” you smile. “are you sure you want to do this?”

“you don’t know how much i want this, princess.” he tells you, hinting at his dirty thoughts. you weren’t alone in your pining. you almost laugh, but jungkook cut to the chase, kissing down your body once more and making it to the waistband of your lace underwear. your legs accommodate him, spreading them apart once he dips low enough. “so pretty.” jungkook comments, running his finger over the material of your underwear, making you shiver. he likes watching the way you react to his actions.

“picked it out myself.” you pride yourself in your choice of intimate wear.

jungkook lets out a little laugh, “it’s no shock that the crown princess has great taste.” he teases, running his finger under the lace now. placing kisses on your inner thighs, making you drip in anticipation. his lips gently make his way between your thighs, placing a kiss on your clothed clit. it makes you keen, arching your back slightly.

“oh— jungkook.” you lightly gasp, only egging jungkook on more.

“i was going to tease you some more, but i can’t wait.” he says, thinking out loud. "you just look and sound so delectable." his fingers tug the lace down and off of your legs to reveal your glistening core. his mouth waters at the sight of it and his dick throbs at the thought of making love to you. “fuck, princess—“ he groans, dipping down and waiting no time.

placing a kiss to your clit, he makes those pretty, soft gasps spill from your mouth. you watch from above, his hands on either thigh, pulling them apart and savoring what’s in between. you don’t think you’ve ever been more turned on in your life.

jungkook’s tongue works wonders. savoring your taste as he dips into your hole before sucking your bud gently, making you moan out loud. no one could hear you anyway; with the loud music, the big room, and the distance from the party— you were allowed to be as loud as you’d like.

“fuck, that feels so good.” you mumble, your hands moving to run through the strands of his hair again as you close your eyes and reel in the pleasure.

“yeah, my love?” he asks, pulling his mouth away to watch as your other hand instinctively goes to your breast, playing with your nipple for extra stimulation. watching you enjoy yourself, it makes him drool. in turn, he places his thumb on your clit, using the excess wetness to glide sleek circles against the sensitive mound.

that’s when you start to feel your ears heat up. your eyes open to see jungkook staring, your confidence skyrockets. jungkook looks like he wants to devour you, and without a doubt, you’d let him. you lean up on your elbows to watch him at a better angle, in turn, making your legs spread further apart. “oh—!” you gasp, your eyebrows slightly scrunched together in pleasure.

“you’re so pretty.” he smiles, dipping his middle finger into you. watching as your face contorted in pleasure once more. “could spend forever between your legs.”

always the romantic. you smiled at the saying. “you look very dashing down there.” complimenting him as he continues to egg your high closer and closer.

“you think so?” he flashes that lazy smile once again, somehow making a gush of liquid pour all over jungkook’s fingers. in turn making him groan at the sight, he dives in soon after— cleaning you right up.

the consistent pumps of his finger and the languid licks all combined to create that knot in your stomach. jungkook can tell when you’re close, the tiny gasps you let out and the way your legs twitch are a clear indicator that he’s doing a great job.

“gonna cum, my love?” he asks, making eye contact with you.

you nod, “so close.”

the closer you got, the wetter you were, and the sloppier it was— your thighs were twitching and your body was moving to the beat of your own drum. jungkook loved the sight. you, enjoying this intimate interaction, it’s been on his mind for years and now he’s able to watch it— make it happen— in real time.

you felt that knot being pulled tighter and tighter until finally, it snaps. “oh— oh, jungkook!” you gasp, running your fingers through his hair and coincidentally keeping him where he was so you could properly ride out your orgasm. jungkook didn’t mind, you tasted like a sweet treat on a summer's day. there’s nothing else he could have wished for on this beautiful night.

until you come down from your high. your face flushed with sweat beginning to bead at your hairline, you ask him a question that almost makes him pass out. “what about you?” you said it so quietly. it could have been missed if jungkook wasn’t paying attention.

he could cum just by the thought of it. and the thought of him busting within five seconds of doing anything with you, makes him super nervous. so he smiles, “don’t worry about me, princess.” he assures you. “i probably won't last long anyways.” telling the absolute truth.

you rolled your eyes. sitting up and making your way towards him, placing your hand on his face before you give him a gentle kiss on the lips. “can i?”

“what?”

“make you cum?”

jungkook swallows his spit. nodding immediately, "s—sure." you smile at his willingness. now it was your turn to please. jungkook moves first, reconnecting your lips and pulling you close, as close as he can.

“i love you.” you tell him between kisses. you can feel his smile against your lips.

“i love you.” he tells you, pulling away and making sure to look you in the eye. he reassures you again, hoping that you’re not just doing this because he did it. “you don’t have to—“

“i want to.” you cut him off quickly. planting another kiss on his lips before turning the two of you around, you gently push him down to where you were laying and let the fun begin. jungkook watches intently as you kiss down his body, his shirtless torso deserves all the kisses and praise in the world. “did you win an award for the best body in all of the kingdoms too?” you teased.

he rolls his eyes. “that’s not even a category.”

as you get to his lower stomach, you place a kiss where his belly button is and sit up. “you’d win anyway.” you laughed, tugging at his belt buckle to unravel it.

jungkook helps when you finally get the buckle off, sliding down his pants after you’ve unbuttoned and unzipped. leaving him in only his boxers. right about now, you realized that this is the most you’ve ever seen of jungkook. the second you pull that piece of clothing down, it’s whole new territory. you have no idea why you’re thinking about this now— jungkook has now seen every inch of you, and you are about to do the same.

“princess? you don’t have to do this.” jungkook speaks up after noticing you waver.

but you shake your head. “i was just thinking about how long it took for us to get here.” gently dragging a finger up and down his body, it makes him shiver. “i really am happy that we’re engaged to be married.”

“me too, my love.” jungkook smiles at you.

always so pretty, even when you’re about to do something so filthy. he can’t not kiss you, so he gives you a quick smooch before. you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather spend your life with. he deserves the best blowjob in the world. and you’re gonna try to give it to him.

pulling down his boxers, his dick lays heavy and hard against his stomach.

he’s huge.

your eyes bulge at the sight— it’s even pretty like he is. pink tip and a long, thick shaft. it’s literally impossible how perfect this man is.

dipping down, your tongue sticks out and gives one good, long lick against him. making him breathe out and furrow his brows. taking hold of him, you place your mouth over his tip and gently begin to suck. watching as jungkook throws his head against the pillows. “fuck, princess.” he groans.

jungkook doesn’t look away for too long, needing to watch as you treat him. gathering up some spit, you let it drool down your tongue and onto his cock, making sure he has a nice view of the glob traveling down his shaft. just before it touches the base, your hands collect the spit and slowly begin to jerk him off.

“holy— what the fuck,” jungkook gasps. his thighs slightly twitching next to you as you continue to pump and gently suck his tip. “how— fuck, that’s so good, princess.”

closing your eyes, you brace yourself as you try to take most of him into your mouth. you could only do so much before gagging, tears beginning to build in your eyes.

“don’t force yourself, my love.” jungkook tells you as he lifts your mouth off slightly, placing his hand on your cheek. a tear falls onto your face and he catches it quickly, wiping it off with his thumb. “i hate to see you cry.”

he’s always so sweet. it makes you wanna please him more. his reactions are egging you, you want to see more, to hear more. so you nod, continuing what you were doing earlier. in turn, you get what you want— groans and gasps leaving his mouth that seemingly sound like a melody. his teeth every now and then biting into his lower lip to control his noises. but to no avail, you always do something to make him moan.

meanwhile, you could feel yourself dripping again— jungkook turns you on like no other. the noises and just how he looks, you were ready for another round. “slow down, princess— i might cum.” jungkook warns. you smile against him, pulling yourself off but continuing to pump consistently.

“that’s the point, right?” you cocked your head to the side and begin raining kisses all over his cock.

“princess—" he groans. his eyebrows furrowed. he looks so hot. pleasure taking over his features entirely. “let me kiss you.” he demands, pulling your face towards his as he indulges the two of you in the messiest kiss you’ve ever been involved in. “fuck— i’m gonna cum.” he pulls away from the kiss first to let you know. you look at him and his lips are red and swollen, covered in a sheen from a mix of both of your saliva. you’re still gliding your hand up and down his spit covered cock. jungkook places his hand over yours and quickens the pace slightly. his eyes threatening to squeeze shut as the two of you work together to bring him to his own high. his hair flopping and sweaty near the roots. you can’t help but kiss him. your lips travelling everywhere. his face, his neck, and his ears. “princess, where can i—?”

“in my mouth?” you answered quickly.

jungkook bites his lip, trying to tell himself to be more of a gentleman— but that’s so hot. you think it’s hot too. and jungkook can see that face you’re making, that one that you make when you’re about to ask for something you want. so jungkook gives in to the guilty pleasure.

while jungkook was thinking to himself, you took it upon yourself to dip back down. your lips wrapping around his tip and letting your tongue run along his slit. your hand continues to pump with his and jungkook can’t hold back any longer. “fuck, princess, i love you.” he says once again before he blows his load.

you feel warmth flood your mouth. the slightly salty taste staining your tongue. you clean him up diligently before you sit up, swallowing everything you had in your mouth. jungkook groans at the sight of you. “did i do well?” you wondered out loud, opening your mouth and showing proof that you’ve swallowed it all. the image before his eyes is one that he never hopes to forget. he’ll probably be thinking about it for the next six months, and have a boner that never goes down during those months.

“come here, my love.” he beckons you over, a fucked-out smile on his face. without a second to waste, you climb into his arms. his hands automatically meet your cheeks, his thumb gently running over your bottom lip. “you are majestic,” he compliments. you smile, kissing his thumb. “was that okay?” jungkook asks. eyes desperate to meet yours to make sure that there aren't any second thoughts flooding your mind.

“jungkook.” you deadpan. scaring him. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever experienced in my life.” you grinned, letting jungkook exhale that breath he sucked in. “so when can we do it again?” you laughed.

jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing along with you. “let’s talk about it after we cleaned up, yeah?” dipping down to give you a kiss before retrieving his boxers and putting them on.

you nod, “sure.”

he gets up from bed and holds his hand out for you to hold. the two of you make your way to the bathroom and clean up, making it seem like nothing ever happened! jungkook plants kisses all over you face. the two of you in a cloud of love as you laid back in bed, rewinding and finishing the movie.

every now and then you would push forward and place a kiss onto jungkook nose, making him smile before he did the same to you. he tucks the hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear. “was that really okay for you?” he asks.

“yes.” you nod, assuring him this is something you want. you’ve never been more sure of something. “what about you?”

“i couldn’t have dreamed of anything better, my love.” he smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead.

the two of you lay in the thick cloud of love made by yours truly. only giggles and sweet words float around in there. three knocks make you and jungkook jolt up from the pillows and away from your love cloud. “uh— princess? are you awake?” you can hear blue through the door.

“yes! is everything alright?” you shout, hoping that he hears you through the thick door

“the royal family of xezia is here, your mother is asking for you to come down and greet them.” he informs you.

“oh— sure, i will be right there! give me five minutes.” you tell him, jumping up rushing to get dressed. jungkook hurries to do your corset as best as he can and helps slide your dress on.

“and if you know where prince jungkook is, please let him know that they would like to see him as well.” blue adds on.

your eyes meet with jungkooks and the both of you can’t help but laugh. “sure, blue, i’ll let him know— thank you!” he finished tying the knot on your dress and proceeded to put his clothes on as you moved to your vanity; spraying perfume, fixing your hair, and makeup. making sure that all evidence of sex is rid of.

both you and jungkook had a game plan for the rest of the night: act like nothing happened, greet the xezia family, bid everyone goodnight, and then rendezvous at his castle in his room.

by the time you’ve already greeted the family of xezia and walked around to say goodnight, you were exhausted. who knew how much walking was expected of a princess?

taking a seat at your chair in the front of the ball room, you watch as everyone continues to mingle before they leave to head off to sleep for the night. jungkook is off talking to his friends in the far corner of the room and you sit alone with a glass of water, trying your best not to make it obvious that you just got the best head you’ve ever received just thirty minutes ago.

you spot chaeyoung walking your way and you invite her to take a seat next to you. the two of you gossip and talk about the party, if she had fun, etc. etc.

just as she excuses herself to head to her bed chambers, she turns around, remembering to tell you something. “by the way— not that anyone else noticed, but your bows are uneven.” she whispers in your ear.

your eyes are wide when she pulls away, making her laugh out loud. loud enough for the entire ball room to hear as her chuckles echo. you facepalm yourself before asking, “it’s not that bad, right?”

“well… you can definitely tell a man did it.”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts #bangtan #bangtan fic #as long as the flowers still grow #jjk #jjk drabble #jungkook x you

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silverloreley · 2 years

Text

The other parents...

So, I fell in the Descendants rabbit hole again and...

I’m still disappointed of the big plot twist of Hades being Mal’s father, because it contradicts the first book (but I have to guess Melissa de la Cruz wasn’t told so it’s not her fault) and because it makes Mal unnecessarily powerful. On the other side, I love Cheyenne Jackson’s Hades, it’s a great Hades, if you ask me.

But this led me to another point, which is the very unanswered question of who the other VKs parents are. Not all of them, but, at least the main ones?

Fanwriters tend do gloss over, pick at random, or invent OCs, save for Evie for whom I have seen the weirdest takes (the Horned King and Scar are possibly top wild ones, pun intended).

Me? I probably spent too long thinking about it in the past years and now that I have a tiny bit of free time I want to share all my ideas.

One thing before anything: I think the Villains can’t die (or die again, in most cases) as long as the Barrier stands and I think the reason they were revived to be put on the Isle (aside from plot reasons) is because the Auradon rulers were afraid necromancy could be used and decided to preventively trap the dead Villains before anyone (like Nasira, Jafar’s sister from the videogame) could try, and them dying again on the Isle would defeat the purpose, so the original Villains can’t die. Everyone born after can, though. It was supposed to teach the Villains to care for their own, maybe.

Okay, to my ideas:

Mal: we have canon, yes, but we didn’t until D3 came out, so I either thought, there was an unnamed OC (as the book implied) or Maleficent just deposed an egg. After the teaser for D3 I was fully convinced her dad could be Mor’du. No, really, Hades was not in my thoughts at all. But, if I had dug a bit, I would have found/remembered the House of Mouse episode in which Hades courted Maleficent and then I could have considered it. Still, I both like and dislike canon.

TL,DR: we have canon dad Hades and that’s good enough, but I used to like the idea it could have been Mor’du.

Jay: there are fics that imply or outright state he may actually be Jasmine’s son and either Jafar raped her or he kidnapped hers and Aladdin’s firstborn. In both cases he’d be older than the Isle and, while the book implies he could be a little older than Mal, he’s certainly not 20 yet, so that idea is a no, for me. From what we know about the Isle’s captives, there were not only Villains but indesiderables too, aka everyone the new Auradon would consider “tainted”, and I’m almost sure common thieves and prostitutes would be in there. So Jay’s mother is possibly some common minor criminal. I also considered another idea: the sultanate of Agrabah seems to be rather small and, in the new live action movie, the maps point at the chance of multiple principalities in the area, about the size of city-states, each with their own ruling families, perhaps. So, what if Jay’s mother was a princess? Just, like, the daughter of some evil ruler, or a minor evil one herself, why not? In the book (yes, again), Jafar says that Jay should be “a prince, parading on elephants“ and I don’t think he means “if only my plan went right“ but he’s talking about legit birthrights (for this last part, we could also consider the OUAT:iW route that says Jafar was the illegitimate brother of the sultan... but I don’t like where it would lead, unless we say it was another sultan and not Jasmine’s father. But I like the 2019 live action’s version better).

TL,DR: Jay’s mother is either a common “criminal” (thief/conwoman/prostitute/...) or she’s from another principality/sultanate, aka a disgraced princess.

Carlos: Cruella DeVil canonically married multiple times, assuming any of her husbands could be Carlos’ father wouldn’t be a stretch, we’d only have to figure out which one was the last. And a name. (Uh, the Cruella live action doesn’t count in this case because it was a wholly different story, I consider it a remake-retcon rather than a prequel). From a very old videogame we have a Dr Farzboom who was an inventor smitten with Cruella and with a nice personality, all traits that would make him a likely father to Carlos.

I also like the idea he could be the son of another Disney character, for the longest time I considered Hans because he’s the only villain with freckles (and that could make Carlos and Evie half-siblings, I’ll get to that later), but why wouldn’t he, who was neglected by his own family, try to stay in his son’s life? Meh.

And then, with Encanto out... I read a fic with Bruno being sent to the Isle and... well...

I’ve always thought: if Cruella is British, why would she chose a Spanish name for her son? She could have called him Charles, it’d make more sense, unless the father is a Spanish-speaker and he chose the name? And, okay, Carlos’ cousin’s name (again, from the book) is Diego, another Spanish name and Encanto came out last year, this is a stretch, I know, but Bruno as Carlos’ father? Being drawn by the fact the DeVils are a large family like his but not realizing at first how crazy they are? Bruno living in the walls of Hell Hall and coming out at night to grab food and help his son with the chores in secret but Carlos not knowing and being afraid of the noises he sometimes hears in the house? The fact they’re both soft-spoken and a bit of scaredy cats? Very smart and very underestimated and very much abuse victims, although in different ways? Them going to Encanto together after the Barrier is taken down and Carlos meeting his cousins and getting his gift and helping with Casita’s impending destruction (aka Carlos in the movie)? I love this theory and I’m considering adopting it as my headcanon.

TL,DR: Carlos’ father could be one of Cruella’s canonic husbands/partners like Dr Farzboom, or Prince Hans, or Bruno Madrigal.

Evie: the Evil Queen must have had standards, we should all agree on that. So Evie’s father couldn’t have been just anyone. I already mentioned the theories about him being the Horned King from Black Cauldron (ewww) or a humanized Scar (less ewww but still...), there are some that say it could be the Huntsman (but he was the one who helped Snow White escape, would he be on the Isle in the first place?) so no to those for me. I mean, I get “I’m a queen and I’d only marry a king“ but the Horned King would be too hideous for the Evil Queen to consider, I think she’d look for someone noble and handsome enough to have a pretty progenies at the very least.

I mentioned Hans when talking about Carlos and I think he’d be a good fit: prince, handsome, young, smart, he’d be a great candidate in EQ’s eyes... if only he had anything to rule over he’d be perfect. That would mean Evie has princess birthright from both sides, as small as the chance for her to becoming queen could be (she’d still need to marry someone closer in line to a throne). It’s a win on all sides. Plus there was the bit of Evie and Carlos being potential half-siblings and Carlos is implied to have skipped grades/being younger than the other Rotten Four so maybe the EQ kicked him out after finding out he was 14th/15th in line for the throne (I assume his eldest brother would have children by that time) and maybe he went to look for someplace else to stay. By the same brand of cutesy, instead of Cruella, he could have been matched up by Lady Tremaine with Drizella and being Dizzy’s father, making Evie and Dizzy half-sisters, that would be nice too.

Or, and that circles back to the start, EQ found herself an actual King of a decayed but still reclaimable kingdom, aka Mor’du but I can’t fathom why wouldn’t a man with a strong temper not stay and try to reign in his own wife, unless he was too exasperated (like Hades with Maleficent) and left.

TL,DR: the Evil Queen would have chosen someone noble and handsome and the best candidate would have been Prince Hans, or Mor’du, as long as we keep canon for all the rest. I still think Hans would be the best pick.

Uma: it’s sort of fanon-estabilished her father is Dr Facilier, I suppose because the actresses who play Uma and Freddie are sisters and I like the idea. Plus, I like to think the YouTube series “The Villains’ Lair“ is a sort of prequel to Descendants (from before the Isle was made) and Facilier and Ursula get along quite well in that. For the same reasons, Freddie’s mother would be Ursula, I’m not sure about Celia, who is younger, but she could be too.

Harry Hook (and the Hook siblings in general): does anyone know “The Pirate Fairy“ movie? The one where young James Hook had as his voice actor Tom Hiddleston? Well, I saw it, and shipped young Hook with Zarina. I think, by Auradon standards, she’d be considered a Villain or Villain-adjacent too and shipped on the Isle, likely in human form. Someone had my same idea and put it in words before me. So the Hook siblings are half-fairy.

Gil: for some reason, I don’t think he’s the son of one of the bimbettes (his brothers must be, though). I think his mother could be a pirate or something, I don’t have a clear idea.

I think I covered all the main ones. Feel free to interact with the post.

#disney descendants #descendants

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bratkook · 4 years

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sick entertainment. (m) kth

pairing. hitman!taehyung x hitman!reader genre. smut, pwp warnings. mentions of guns, slight depictions of violence/murder, they’re both hitmen please don’t read if whats mentioned is triggering, they make some dark jokes (they’re sick okay lmao) smut in forms of: oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, choking, dirty talk but its all playful despite it all hehe word count. 6.3k note. this is a request based off #85 off this prompt list (now closed) thank you for sending this in! 🖤 also uh….this may become a series, in which case, consider this a saucy prologue that gives you a glimpse into tae/oc’s...interesting... relationship

The slamming of the door makes Taehyung cock his eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across his face as he mindlessly watches the television, his ears listening to the way your feet stomp on the concrete floors of the loft, no doubt a trail of fire following your path. A laugh is begging to make its way out of him, chest trembling from holding it in because he knows he’s in deep shit, he’d known it the second he had interfered.

Blame it on his playful personality, or maybe his need of meddling in business that very clearly wasn’t his, either way the second he heard the name of the next target you were assigned he knew he had to make a game out of it. Is it sick, or twisted? Maybe, but the man was a well known scumbag, a slimey wannabe mobster that has far too many hits out for him it’s a shock he still has a pulse, well had considering you were back now.

Like every single assignment, he knew this one wouldn’t be missed, wouldn’t even have a news report made on him. It was the main reason why you were able to get away with it all, despite the police showing up for investigations whenever any unlucky bystander stumbled upon their body, they never seemed to dive deeper into who did it. They didn’t have to, they weren’t stupid, knowing not to bite the hand that fed them.

As long as they continued to get a small portion of cash funneled into their department and you all continued to wipe out the low lives that made their job so hard, then there really was no crime committed.

Namjoon called it transactional, but Taehyung called it boring. He liked it messy, enjoyed the thrill of it all, the possibility of not getting away with it, and with the help of police it took that all away from him.

You knew he was up to no good, the gleam in his eyes when you had mentioned who you were hitting next spelled it out for you. Knowing Taehyung like the back of your hand made you wary, accustomed to the way his brain worked like a minefield, he was someone you had to watch from a distance and analyze before deciding your next move.

“Welcome home honey.” Taehyung sings out playfully when he senses you getting closer, that same smile plastered on his face as he turns to face you, only getting wider when he notices the shiny black gun in your palm, one that actually belonged to him. It wasn’t your usual choice, something you no doubt swiped from its hiding spot when you came in, but you couldn’t exactly conceal the sniper you had used an hour prior enough to make it undetected in your hands on your way to your apartment.

He knew it was currently disassembled and tucked into your backpack as you chucked it aside and marched your way over to him, hand clenched around the grip of his Ruger with murder so evident in your eyes. Taehyung doesn’t think you’ve ever looked cuter, even as you raise it up towards his chest once you close the distance between you.

“You’re on thin ice Taehyung,” you laugh as you round the couch, standing directly in front of his sitting form, still casually sunken against the cushions as if you weren’t aiming for his heart. “You really think Namjoon’s going to let you come back if I tell him you’re playing games with my targets?”

Your boyfriend sighs at that, a roll of his eyes being sent your way as he drops his head to rest along the back of the couch with a groan. He didn’t need you to remind him of his current standing with Namjoon, knowing fully well that he had crossed a line by smashing that random man’s face into the fancy bar counter for simply looking at you. It wasn’t fair really, had he taken the time to get to know the guy he would have realized just how high up that random man was in terms of connections, but Taehyung could blame his tunnel vision for cutting the introductions short.

Like you said, his brain was a minefield, one wrong step was all it took before his fingers were tangling into the poor man’s hair and connecting his face with the wooden counter. He wasn’t even sure what set him off, the edges of his sight blurring together as he wrapped his fingers around his throat, pulling out the small gun he always had tucked away with him, pressing the muzzle against his temple and laughing maniacally as the man tried to pry his hands off of him.

He liked to keep things exciting, but unfortunately for him that excitement ended up costing Namjoon far too much in order to keep Taehyung from being thrown into jail, which would have arguably been a lot better than being stuck on what could be considered probation, no longer able to work unless Namjoon deemed it acceptable.

“Children shouldn’t play with guns.” Taehyung mocks, hoping to distract you while his eyes stayed glued to the end of the barrel, following it as you inched it closer with a wicked smile on your face. He knew he was on thin ice, nearly ruining your shot, potentially resulting in the target escaping because of his stupid game. That wasn’t too big of an issue, the chase made it fun some times, but considering this target had a bigger money sign tacked onto their back there would be no way you could let a fuck up slide.

He smiles still, lips curling up and showing his teeth as he focuses on your face now, seeing the way you look at him. You had those crazy eyes he loved to see, full of adrenaline, body still buzzing from earlier, analyzing his every move as you tuck the end of the cold barrel under his chin and slowly cock the safety back with a soft click.

“Who said I was playing?”

The small flash of excitement sparks in his eyes as you dig the muzzle into his skin, his mouth dropping open as he breathes out a laugh, his large palm coming to clutch around your own, urging the gun further into his skin.

“Do it,” he taunts, guiding your fingers to slide over the trigger, floating off of it as you observe him.

“I should’ve done it the second I saw you leaving that bastards apartment” you threaten, remembering the rage you had felt when you witnessed your boyfriend exit the complex and look directly up at the building across from him, knowing you would be perched on the ledge with your gun aimed at the window as you waited. The childlike wave he had sent you from the ground made you want to change your aim towards him, the urge to pull the trigger only increasing when he sent you a simple text telling you to enjoy the chase.

That was the first push of the domino that sent everything collapsing and as you peeked through the window and saw your target frantically packing a bag as he looked around you couldn’t stop the flash of annoyance from flaring inside of you. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out that Taehyung had notified him that his head was on the line and now he was going to try to run.

It was supposed to be a clean job, it was the main reason you preferred to use a sniper instead of the slightly more intimate methods used by the others, all you had to do was disassemble your Sako and get yourself off whatever ledge you were on and that was it, job completed. Anticipating a chase was not something you thought would happen today but the second he began to shove clothes into some random bag you knew you were losing your window of opportunity.

“How far did he get?” Taehyung laughs, eyes full of mischief as you glare at him, that tiny smirk on your face giving you away, showing him just how amused you were at his antics despite the gun pressed against his skin

“The stairwell.” You knew the layout of his building well enough to know exactly what exit route he would take, beginning the chase Taehyung had been so eager to start. Having to get down from your spot and somehow beat him before he left his apartment was too far fetched, but catching him before he exited the complex completely was the only thing that kept you from admitting defeat.

Your heart continues to rapidly beat in your chest as you recall it, how your lungs had burned as you took the stairs two at a time once you managed to get inside the complex, nearly ramming into your target as he rounded the stairwell in his haste to leave undetected.

Had it not been for his already set paranoia he would have simply shoved you aside, not expecting a girl to be the one in charge of taking him out, but the second he spots the unhinged look in your face, the way your eyes glimmer when you realize you caught him, he knows it's too late to run. Thankfully for you, he accepted his fate pretty easily after that.

“Did you leave a mess?”

“I couldn’t use my Sako you asshole.”

Taehyung laughs freely now, his other hand coming to scoop around your waist and pull you closer, your thighs slotting between his. If you couldn’t use your precious Sako he knew you were pissed, hence the gun to his throat. There was nothing you hated more than having to come in close contact with whoever you were meant to kill, you weren’t a fan of the bargaining they tried to make with you, not particularly enjoying seeing their face as you pressed the suppressor of your Beretta between their eyes before you pulled the trigger.

“Is that why you’re so trigger happy right now?” He’s taunting you, biting his lip as he smiles up at you, eyes widening slightly as you gingerly place your finger on the trigger. “C’mon, teach me a lesson. Shoot me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

The second the last word leaves his mouth, your finger presses down on the trigger, the brief moment of shock is painted across his face when he hears the click, eyes squinting when he expects the searing pain that was sure to follow but it never came. In a blink of an eye his hands are expertly releasing the magazine of his Ruger, letting it fall into his grip as he brings it close to really check to see that it was in fact empty, something you no doubt did the second you entered the loft.

Your joyous laughter fills the air instantly, dropping the gun from its position as you lose yourself in the giggles that escape you. “You should have seen your face.”

Taehyung continues to stare at the empty magazine, looking up at you incredulously, the beginning of a smile once again gracing his face at the pure shock that you actually pulled the trigger. “You were gonna fucking shoot me.”

“Oh please, like I’d ever shoot you–“

“You have!” He remarks, snatching the gun from your grasp and sliding the magazine back into place, remembering the time you gave him a warning shot to the shoulder the last time he tried to meddle in your business. Sure you might have just grazed his skin but a trigger was still pulled.

Taehyung chuckles when you plop onto the couch next to him, body still trembling with laughter as you wipe underneath your eyes for any stray tears. “Don’t tell me to shoot you if you don’t actually want me to”

“You’re a psycho,” he jests, tossing the gun safely aside as he faces you, seeing the oh so innocent smile on your lips.

“Don’t act so surprised.” He’s not, knowing you were two peas in a pod, just the right amount of crazy to level each other out, if any more was added to either of you there would no doubt be actual shots fired. It worked though, a nice balance between you that allowed the relationship to go on as long as it has.

“You’d never actually do it,” he sighs, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side, smug with the fact that you would never actually hurt him. “You’d miss me too much.”

“Would I?” A teasing laugh fills the air as your hand glides up his chest, fingers trailing towards his neck until they curl around his skin, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of his heart. When your fingers tighten around his neck he chuckles, the vibrations felt against your palm.

The arm slung around your shoulder slides down to your back, scooping you over until you’re settling onto his thighs in his favorite position, a mischievous glint to his eyes flashing when you look at him. “You definitely would baby, who else would be here to drive you crazy like I do?” His deep voice pulls you in, dripping from his tongue in a manner that makes you want to lean forward and savor every drop.

“Should we find out?”

Taehyung just drops his head back once more, a cynical lift to his lips when you bring up your second hand to wrap around his thick neck, fingers digging further into his skin. “Please, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re sick,” you laugh out, squealing when his hands tighten their grip around your waist, his head leveling out as he stares at you with that same glint in his eyes.

“I know I am, but you like it.” A gasp leaves your mouth as he slides you further up his lap, clothed core pressing into the slowly growing bulge in his pants. “Don’t act like I forgot the little stunt you pulled this morning.”

Flashes of this morning play in your mind, the way you had teased him the minute he woke up and felt his cock pressed against you. You couldn’t help yourself when you rolled on top of him, kissing and biting his neck while you slowly rolled your hips above him. Taehyung honestly isn’t complaining about it, who wouldn’t love starting their morning off with their girlfriend so hell bent on making them cum.

The only downside of it all was the fact that you actually hadn’t made him cum, leaving him high and dry with an evil laugh as you rolled back off of him and went about your morning as if you hadn’t just committed an awful crime. That may be the reason Taehyung was so insistent on making your assignment tonight a fun little game for the two of you to play and now that that was done and over with he could finally have you on top of him just like this morning.

“You’re telling me you don’t like when I play games with you?” He huffs out a laugh at the teasing kick to your voice, a sinful smile on your lips as you allow him to unzip your sweater, tugging the loose material off your body to reveal the simple black shirt you wore underneath.

“That wasn’t a game, it was torture.” His words are muffled as he leans forward, lips pressing kisses into your skin, breath fanning out and sending tingles down your spine. It was funny how he could pick and choose what was classified as a game, the earlier antics he caused seeming more like torture than you grinding on him at the crack of dawn but you’d let him believe it.

The hold you have on his neck loosens, your arms spreading out to allow him to slip the sweater off of you entirely, large palms now coming to roam over the small sliver of exposed skin that peeked out under the hem of your shirt. “You know what would be so hot?” His cold fingers leave a trail of goosebumps as he inches the material up, little by little, revealing your belly button, the edge of your bra coming next as you hum in question.

“If you ever wore some hot ass latex or leather on the job.” He groans unabashedly at the thought of you in a tight leather corset, boobs accentuated as it hugged your skin. Maybe you’d wear a cute little garter with your Beretta tucked into it, or one of those adorable daggers you had grown so fond of recently.

It might be a wet dream of his but you just snort at the thought, not being able to imagine yourself getting a decent shot with something so restrictive on, god forbid Taehyung decided to play another game of cat and mouse you’re not so sure a leather corset would hold as you chased your target.

“That's so impractical, I’ll do it for you here though.” That appeases him, a smug smile on his lips as he continues to pull up your shirt, taking his time as if he was unwrapping his favorite present. With your red bra fully revealed he sighs in appreciation, tossing the shirt aside without a care to fully admire you.

His hands cup over your bra, thumbs gently tracing the swell of your breasts before giving a rough squeeze that makes you breathe out a laugh. “Will you really?” He questions, keeping a good hold on you as he flips you over, flat on your back with your head resting by the armrest of the couch. Your elbows hold you up as you smile at him, dazed as you watch him tug up his grey shirt and throw it off to the side.

“Yeah, only if you buy that cute maid costume I found and wear it for me.” Taehyung doesn’t even think twice before agreeing, stomach tensing up as your fingers trace along his skin, circling around the random scars that litter his body from close encounters and senseless fights. They serve as physical reminders of your boyfriend’s careless behavior, that minefield mentality making the worst decisions possible in the name of getting a quick thrill. You follow them up until you reach the tiny scar you were responsible for on his shoulder, shallow and faded to a lighter tan now that it was healed.

“I told you, you’re trigger happy.” His hand grasps your own, bringing it back down to the couch as he chuckles. “I think you’re a danger to society Y/N.”

“Hm, am I?” Your voice drawls out as you stretch out, enjoying the way he watches you like a predator would his prey, sharp eyes hyper focused on your every move and you swear he can hear how your heart races in your chest. When he simply hums in response, nimble fingers beginning to unbutton your jeans, you can only giggle and help him as best as you can, lifting your hips and pulling your legs until the tight material has joined the growing pile on the floor.

Taehyung slots between your thighs with ease now, hands digging into the sofa as he holds himself up and leans forward to kiss you once more. His breath is felt on your face as he groans at the taste of you, forever loving the feeling of your lips on his, an endless craving he would never get over. You taste like your favorite chapstick, sweet like candy, and when his tongue peeks out to get a better dose you breathe his name out in a sigh that sounds like music to his ears.

Resting his weight on his knees, his hands are set on their mission, palms sliding underneath you until they reach the back clasp of your bra, expertly unhooking it until it snaps against your skin. A playful laugh is passed between your mouths as he does so, his teeth gently nipping at your lips before he begins his descent. Sloppy kisses are pressed along your jaw as he pulls the straps of your garment down your arms and lets it fall onto the floor.

As he reaches the juncture of your neck he takes a nice inhale, chuckling when he catches the hint of your sweet shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of gunpowder. “You smell like work–“

“Get off, I’m gonna shower!” You try to swat him off of you but he’s quick to grasp your hands, pinning them above your head, giving you a wicked smile as he stares down at you, loving the way your nose twitches in anger at being held down by his arms and hips.

So cute.

“No, I finally have you right where I want you.”

“Is that so?” Taehyung chooses not to answer you as he starts to continue the trail of kisses down your neck, grabbing both wrists in one hand as his other trails down your chest. The ticklish feeling leaves you fidgeting around as he grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing the flesh before slowly circling around your nipple until it hardens at the sensation. The wet path of kisses passes your collarbones, soft smacks of his lips on your skin as he nears your neglected breast, kisses around the swell of them in a teasing way.

When he finally envelopes your other nipple into his mouth you gasp, arching your back to push more of you into his mouth, feeling the vibrating hum against your skin as his tongue flicks around your areola. Tingles shoot up your spine as he pinches your nipple in his fingers, pinching and rolling the bud between his grasp, the feeling of his sharp teeth press into your skin when he smiles at the way you react to his touch, soft moans flowing past your lips the longer he teases you.

With a slight pop, he releases your nipple, a satisfied laugh hitting the air when he sees the way it’s covered in a sheen of his saliva, rising and falling with each of your breaths. His palm still holds your hands hostage but as you fidget in his grasp he releases them, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking at the soft tufts of dark brown until you were content.

“So this is right where you want me?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah,” he leans up and kisses you once more before trailing down your body, your hands still tangled in his hair as he descends in the same fashion as before, an endless trail of smooches down your ribs, across your torso and around your belly button. The final kisses are pressed into your hips as his fingers hook into the band of your underwear, pulling the waistband of your matching red thong up at the sides and letting it snap against your skin like an annoying child, snickering at the sound it makes.

When you nudge your knee against his sides he stops fooling around, finally yanking them down your thighs, gingerly unhooking them from around your feets to be forgotten entirely now that he stares down at your exposed pussy. A smile graces his face at the sight, folds wet and glistening, already messy in a way he couldn’t resist as he glides his face against your inner thighs. “This is where I want you.”

Your fingers twirl around his hair as he messily kisses around your lower lips, eyes falling shut as you focus on each touch on your body, the brief nudge of his nose, the had press of his lips and finally, the cool sensation of his saliva as he licks a broad stripe up your slit, tongue collecting the drips of your arousal.

“Fuck, Taehyung.” It comes out as a mewl, head dropping back in awe when he repeats the motion, tongue slipping through your folds, the tip of it meeting your clit in a small jolt that leaves you breathless. He could do this all day, feel each stinging pull on his scalp that accompanies each flick of his tongue, your cries of pleasure only increasing when he spreads your folds apart and dives in with new set determination.

The messy smacks and slurps blend in with your choked breath, mingling in between each gasped syllable that make up his name, pleas of more that he can’t deny. Soft lips wrap around your sensitive nub, sucking gently in a way he knows you love, spelled out by your thighs spreading further apart, hips rutting into his face in desperation.

These deliberate flicks against your bundle of nerves are set to tease, proven when he stops altogether with an evil smile, your arousal coating his chin but he doesn’t mind it, revelling in the harsh yank you deliver to his hair at his stopping.

“Baby has a temper, it sucks to be teased huh?” Taehyung’s words are spoken through a smirk, mouth dropped open as he laughs carelessly, head pulled back by your hold on his hair. The cute pout on your lips doesn’t look threatening in the least, not when he can see just how close you are to falling apart, the subtle twitch of your thighs being telling enough.

“I promise, I’ll never do that again. Just make me cum, please.” His eyes glimmer now, teeth biting down on his lower lip when you guide him back down to your swollen lips, wet with a mixture of your arousal and his spit.

“Deal.” Without wasting another second, his lips are back on you, long fingers joining in as he circles your entrance, slowly easing their way inside in a familiar stretch that makes you arch your back. He smiles against you as he feels the tight ring of muscles wrapped around him, the soft walls of your pussy felt along his fingertips as he curves his digits inside of you, not content until you’re gasping above him as he tickles along your gspot.

“K-keep doing that.” You beg him, mouth dropping open as another moan spills out when he does as you ask, fingers pumping into you, rubbing along your sweet patch as his tongue continues to ravish you, circling and sucking on your clit to give you the release you crave.

“Ah, fuck I’m close.”

Taehyung holds in his laugh as your feet slide along the top of the couch, searching for some leverage as you lose yourself in the feeling. The grip you have on his hair tightens as you near your release, body set alight with each thrust of his fingers, eyes screwed shut as you savor it all. He can feel the way your walls squeeze his fingers, leaving his cock hard in his jeans when he thinks of the way your walls will feel around him next.

With a final flick against your clit you’re shouting out his name, flashes of light sparking behind your closed lids as your body tenses up, limbs rendered useless as the wave of your climax washes over you. Taehyung always loved the way your bones turned into jello when the pleasure rocked through you, fingers losing their grip and thighs flopping onto the couch when he pulled away, face looking entirely satisfied by your reaction.

“That was exactly how I wanted you.” A messy kiss is placed onto your hip once more, leaving a wet spot in its wake that can be attributed to the remnants of your orgasm coating his lips.

“Yeah, you know how I want you?” you pant, giggling when his kisses turn ticklish, eyes looking up at you in question. “Fucking me so hard I forget I’m still mad at you.”

Oh, he could do that no problem.

It’s almost comical how quickly he’s able to get out of his jeans and underwear, his hand wrapping around his cock as he kneels onto the couch again. A smile spreads along his lips when he takes note of the look on your face as you stare at him, eyes following his hand as he lazily pumps his length.

There's pure mischief in your eyes, a tiny devil on your shoulder that cheers at the prospect of you getting what you want, thighs spreading further apart in invitation for him. Taehyung presses his lips together as his thumb rolls over the tip of his cock, smearing the beads of precum around the swollen head before giving himself a gentle squeeze as he inches forward.

It feels like time stands still as you watch with bated breath when he guides his cock to your entrance, a gasp slipping through your lips when he slaps the head of his cock against your sensitive clit, enjoying the small shudder that courses through your body with a discreet laugh.

“Taehyung,” you whine, rutting your hips up impatiently for him to hurry up. He finds pleasure in this though, his constant need to play games with you out ruling anything else.

“What?” He probes, smiling at you as if he didn’t have his dick inches from entering you.

“Fuck me, c’mon.” Your words trail off as his tip presses against you, slowly breaching your entrance in a familiar stretch that leaves your mind spinning. Taehyung can’t even get himself to make a sly remark like he always does, tease you about how messy you were before he even properly fucked you, no his head is wiped out of any witty comment, only able to focus on how amazing you feel around him.

“Shit,” he gasps out, sliding into you with ease from how wet you were, the slick coating your thighs and dripping down onto the couch beneath you. You find comfort in the feeling of his hands sliding up your thighs as he bottoms out, fingers gripping onto your hips so tightly it dimples your skin, holding you still before sliding back out of you in a wet squelch. Taehyung can’t get himself to look away at the visual, how his cock shines in the light, coated in the strings of your arousal.

A choked moan reaches his ears the second he starts to thrust into you, hands keeping you still to prevent you from sliding around from the quick pace he knows you love. Your own hands scramble to reach down, fingers wrapping around his arms to ground yourself as he snaps his hips into you, the laughter mixing with delighted moans letting him know he wasn’t being too rough. No you would never think that, wanting nothing more than to let Taehyung have his way with you, hips knocking into yours with each rock, the head of his cock kissing your cervix in a dull throb that left your nerves on edge.

“Just like that,” you mewl, his attention dragging away from your soaked cunt, looking up at you and seeing the dazed expression on your face. Seeing you like this definitely topped the adorable way you had held a gun to his chest, broken down and vulnerable all because of him. It was a privilege he didn’t take lightly, allowed to see you in a light he knew others hadn’t.

“Fuck you feel so good, so warm,” his words are spoken quietly, almost like a train of thought that hadn’t meant to escape but he means them, completely lost in the way your walls flutter around him, each pulse leaving him grunting in ecstasy.

“You’re right,” you start with a laugh, “I would miss you”

That grabs his attention, hips never slowing as he tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, no one else could fuck me as good as you do.” He chuckles at that, looking down at you and seeing the evil glint in your eyes as you smile, voice as sweet as honey when you ask him, “Would you miss me?”

Taehyung hums thoughtfully at your question, eyes falling shut when you clench around him on purpose, a teasing laugh leaving your lips as his mind blanks momentarily. “I don’t know, should we find out?” He mocks your earlier phrase as he trails his own hand up your body to your neck, large palm easily wrapping around it. He’s no stranger to the flash of excitement on your face, having grown used to the way you’d beg him to choke you so often it was like second nature now.

Call it sick but it made your brain turn into mush, made you abandon all dignity whenever he wrapped his hands around you. Maybe it should instill a sense of fear into you, knowing those same hands had done so much harm to others, the countless times they’ve been wrapped around other targets with the intent to kill. The soft glimmer in his eyes settles any thoughts before you can even have them, the twisted version of love spelled out in the curl of his lips as he asks if this is okay comforts you because you know he’ll never actually hurt you.

“Tighter,” you mumble out, smirking when he listens, fingers pressing into your skin deliciously. The minute his hands are properly wrapped around you its like your body is lit up, every nerve ending spazzing out, allowing you to feel the pleasure tenfold as his cock continues to fuck you. Each obscene squelch of his cock mixed with the added feeling of him grinding into your clit makes your brain go fuzzy, your legs wrapping around his waist in an effort to keep him closer.

Taehyung knew you loved to be choked, loved to feel the pounding of your blood rushing through your ears, the way the edges of your vision would fade out, his own face speckled in black as the feeling spread. His eyes never leave yours, amazement displayed in them at seeing you fall apart, your small hand laying on top of his in a sense of security. Your chest rises and falls with each breath, the moans and cries only getting softer as your orgasm approaches you, eyes threatening to close.

He knows the signs too well, waiting for the right moment and just before he knows you’ll cum he releases your throat, the sudden rush of unrestricted blood flow pushing you over the edge and intensifying the feeling. It’s evident in the way you gush around his cock, body tensing as your climax crashes through you, your arms desperately clinging onto him as he fucks you through it, soft hushes and whispers pressed into your skin as he kisses you gently.

Your mind wipes out entirely, eyes screwed shut as you come down, body buzzing with sensitivity as you ooze around his cock, leaving an unholy mess beneath you. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He groans out, the desperate cries and soft mewls of his name are what finally push him over, spilling into you in ribbons of white, rutting his hips a few more times before stilling altogether, panting above you with sweat coating his hairline.

“I’d miss you too.” He mumbles out with a shy smile, gently brushing away the stray hairs from your face as you try to catch your breath. His face looks soft now, almost squishy as his cheeks puff out, it was hard to believe that was the face of a killer.

“Hmm, certified psycho Kim Taehyung goes soft for his girlfriend, who should I notify?”

He snorts at your retort, pulling out of you only to flop on top of you without a care in the world, nuzzling his face into your hair because he secretly loved the smell of your shampoo mixed with the gunpowder he had teased you about earlier. “Maybe the FBI, I’m pretty sure they’d love to know the name of any accomplice.”

“I’m not your accomplice.”

“Right my bad, they think I work alone.” He chuckles as he recounts the way the crooked cops had notified them of the FBI’s increased interest in Taehyung after he had smashed that man’s head in. Really who would have pegged the guy as an FBI agent. It didn’t raise too many concerns for him though, Taehyung hardly meddled in foreign affairs in the states anyways.

Before you’re able to tease him about his fuck ups once more the incessant ring of your phone drones off from the floor. With a groan from Taehyung he’s reaching down and pulling the device free from your sweater’s pocket,seeing it was Namjoon calling, no doubt ready to ask how the assignment went but Taehyung swipes the screen to answer.

“You know, you really know how to kill the mood.”

Your jaw drops as you laugh, attempting to swat at him to grab your phone free from it’s confines but he’s determined, holding it tightly against his ears with a devilish smile.

“Keep it up Taehyung, you’ll be on probation until I say so.” Namjoon’s voice is heard loud and clear through your phone’s speaker, the eye roll your boyfriend gives being comical enough, his mood being dampened at the reminder. With a pout of his lips he’s handing you the phone, getting off of you with a slight grimace when he feels just how sweaty you two had gotten.

Your conversation is quick, finished by the time he was done cleaning up, exiting your room with new clothes on and your favorite robe to hand you. The very evident smile on your lips shows whatever you two talked about must have been good, no doubt having gotten endless praise from Namjoon along with a new assignment. “I know that smile, what’s up.”

Slipping the robe on with a sigh you stand up and wrap your arms around his waist, peering up at him in delight. “I get to use my Sako next week.”

He can only shake his head at the tone in your voice, speaking about using your favorite gun on a target like it was a shiny new doll for you to play with. “You’re psycho you know that.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts imagines #kim taehyung smut #new

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yamayuandadu · 3 years

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Circe by Madeline Miller: a review

As you might have noticed, a few of my most recent posts were more or less a liveblog of Madeline Miller’s novel Circe. However, as they hardly exhausted the subject, a proper review is also in order. You can find it under the “read more” button. All sorts of content warnings apply because this book takes a number of turns one in theory can expect from Greek mythology but which I’d hardly expect to come up in relation to Circe. I should note that this is my first contact with this author’s work. I am not familiar with Miller’s more famous, earlier novel Song of Achilles - I am not much of an Iliad aficionado, truth to be told. I read the poem itself when my literature class required it, but it left no strong impact on me, unlike, say, the Epic of Gilgamesh or, to stay within the theme of Greek mythology, Homeric Hymn to Demeter, works which I read at a similar point in my life on my own accord.

What motivated me to pick up this novel was the slim possibility that for once I’ll see my two favorite Greek gods in fiction, these being Hecate and Helios (in case you’re curious: #3 is Cybele but I suspect that unless some brave soul will attempt to adapt Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, she’ll forever be stuck with no popcultural presence outside Shin Megami Tensei). After all, it seemed reasonable to expect that Circe’s father will be involved considering their relationship, while rarely discussed in classical sources, seems remarkably close. Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women and Apollonius’ Argonautica describe Circe arriving on her island in her father’s solar chariot, while Ptolemy Hephaestion (as quoted by Photius) notes that Helios protected her home during the Gigantomachy. Helios, for all intents and purposes, seems like a decent dad (and, in Medea’s case, grandpa) in the source material even though his most notable children (and granddaughter) are pretty much all cackling sorcerers, not celebrated heroes. How does Miller’s Helios fare, compared to his mythical self? Not great, to put it lightly, as you’ll see later. As for Hecate… she’s not even in the book. Let me preface the core of the review by saying I don’t think reinterpreting myths, changing relations between figures, etc. is necessarily bad - ancient authors did it all the time, and modern adaptations will inevitably do so too, both to maintain internal coherence and perhaps to adjust the stories to a modern audience, much like ancient authors already did. I simply don’t think this book is successful at that. The purpose of the novel is ostensibly to elevate Circe above the status of a one-dimensional minor antagonist - but to accomplish this, the author mostly demonizes her family and a variety of other figures, so the net result is that there are more one dimensional female villains, not less. I expected the opposite, frankly. The initial section of the novel focuses on Circe’s relationship with her family, chiefly with her father. That’s largely uncharted territory in the source material - to my knowledge no ancient author seemed particularly interested in covering this period in her life. Blank pages of this sort are definitely worth filling. To begin with, Helios is characterized as abusive, neglectful and power-hungry. And also, for some reason, as Zeus’ main titan ally in the Titanomachy - a role which Hesiod attributes to Hecate… To be fair I do not think it’s Hesiod who serves as the primary inspiration here, as it’s hard to see any traces of his account - in which Zeus wins in no small part because he promises the lesser titans higher positions that they had under Cronus - in Miller’s version of events. Only Helios and Oceanus keep their share, and are presented as Zeus’ only titan allies (there’s a small plot hole as Selene appears in the novel and evidently still is the moon…) - contrary to just about any portrayal of the conflict, in which many titans actually side with Zeus and his siblings. Also, worth noting that in Hesiod’s version it’s not Oceanus himself who cements the pact with Zeus, it’s his daughter Styx - yes, -that- Styx. Missed opportunity to put more focus on female mythical figures - first of many in this work, despite many reviews praising it as “feminist.” Of course, it’s not all about Helios. We are quickly introduced to a variety of female characters as well (though, as I noted above, none of these traditionally connected to the Titanomachy despite it being a prominent aspect of the book’s background). They are all somewhat repetitive - to the point of being basically interchangeable. Circe’s mother is vain and cruel; so is Scylla. And Pasiphae. There’s no real indication of any hostility between Circe and any of her siblings in classical sources, as far as I am aware, but here it’s a central theme. The subplots pertaining to it bear an uncanny resemblance to these young adult novels in which the heroine, who is Not Like Other Girls, confronts the Chads and Stacies of the world, and I can’t shake off the feelings that it’s exactly what it is, though with superficial mythical flourish on top. I should note that Pasiphae gets a focus arc of sorts - which to my surprise somehow manages to be more sexist than the primary sources. A pretty famous tidbit repeated by many ancient authors is that Pasiphae cursed her husband Minos, regarded as unfaithful, to kill anyone else he’d have sex with with his… well, bodily fluids. Here she does it entirely because she’s a debased sadist and not because unfaithfulness is something one can be justifiably mad about. You’d think it would be easy to put a sympathetic spin on this. But the book manages to top that in the very same chapter - can’t have Pasiphae without the Minotaur (sadly - I think virtually everything else about Pasiphae and Minos is more fun than that myth but alas) so in a brand new twist on this myth we learn that actually the infamous affair wasn’t a curse placed on Pasiphae by Poseidon or Aphrodite because of some transgression committed by Minos. She’s just wretched like that by nature. I’m frankly speechless, especially taking into account the book often goes out of its way to present deities in the worst light possible otherwise, and which as I noted reviews praise for its feminist approach - I’m not exactly sure if treating Pasiphae worse than Greek and Roman authors did counts as that. I should note this is not the only instance of… weirdly enthusiastic references to carnal relations between gods and cattle in this book, as there’s also a weird offhand mention of Helios being the father of his own cows. This, as far as I can tell, is not present in any classical sources and truth to be told I am not a huge fan of this invention. I won’t try to think about the reason behind this addition to maintain my sanity. Pasiphae aside - the author expands on the vague backstory Circe has in classical texts which I’ve mentioned earlier. You’d expect that her island would be a gift from her father - after all many ancient sources state that he provided his children and grandchildren with extravagant gifts. However, since Helios bears little resemblance to his mythical self, Aeaea is instead a place of exile here, since Helios hates Circe and Zeus is afraid of witchcraft and demands such a solution (the same Zeus who, according to Hesiod, holds Hecate in high esteem and who appeared with her on coins reasonably commonly… but hey, licentia poetica, this idea isn’t necessarily bad in itself). Witchcraft is presented as an art exclusive to Helios’ children here - Hecate is nowhere to be found, it’s basically as if her every role in Greek mythology was surgically removed. A bit of a downer, especially since at least one text - I think Ovid’s Metarphoses? - Circe directly invokes Hecate during her confrontation with king Picus (Surprisingly absent here despite being a much more fitting antagonist for Circe than many of the characters presented as her adversaries in this novel…) Of course, we also learn about the origin of Circe’s signature spell according to ancient sources, changing people into animals. It actually takes the novel a longer while to get there, and the invented backstory boils down to Circe getting raped. Despite ancient Greek authors being rather keen on rape as plot device, to my knowledge this was never a part of any myth about Circe. Rather odd decision to put it lightly but I suppose at least there was no cattle involved this time, perhaps two times was enough for the author. Still, I can’t help but feel like much like many other ideas present in this book it seems a bit like the author’s intent is less elevating the Circe above the role of a one note witch antagonist, but rather punishing her for being that. The fact she keeps self loathing about her origin and about not being human doesn’t exactly help to shake off this feeling. This impression that the author isn’t really fond of Circe being a wacky witch only grows stronger when Odysseus enters the scene. There was already a bit of a problem before with Circe’s life revolving around love interests before - somewhat random ones at that (Dedalus during the Pasiphae arc and Hermes on and off - not sure what the inspiration for either of these was) - but it was less noticeable since it was ultimately in the background and the focus was the conflict between Circe and Helios, Pasiphae, etc. In the case of Odysseus it’s much more notable because these subplots cease to appear for a while. As a result of meeting him, Circe decides she wants to experience the joys of motherhood, which long story short eventually leads to the birth of Telegonus, who does exactly what he was famous for. The final arcs have a variety of truly baffling plot twists which didn’t really appeal to me, but which I suppose at least show a degree of creativity - better than just turning Helios’ attitude towards his children upside down for sure. Circe ends up consulting an oc character who I can only describe as “stingray Cthulhu.” His presence doesn’t really add much, and frankly it feels like yet another wasted opportunity to use Hecate, but I digress. Oh, also in another twist Athena is recast as the villain of the Odyssey. Eventually Circe gets to meet Odysseus’ family, for once interacts with another female character on positive terms (with Penelope, to be specific) and… gets together with Telemachus, which to be fair is something present in many ancient works but which feels weird here since there was a pretty long passage about Odysseus describing him as a child to Circe. I think I could live without it. Honestly having her get together with Penelope would feel considerably less weird, but there are no lesbians in the world of this novel. It would appear that the praise for Song of Achilles is connected to the portrayal of gay relationships in it. Can’t say that this applies to Circe - on this front we have an offhand mention of Hyacinth's death. which seems to serve no real purpose other than establishing otherwise irrelevant wind god is evil, and what feels like an advert for Song of Achilles courtesy of Odysseus, which takes less than one page. Eventually Circe opts to become mortal to live with Telemachus and denounces her father and… that’s it. This concludes the story of Circe. I don’t exactly think the original is the deepest or greatest character in classical literature, but I must admit I’d rather read about her wacky witch adventures than about Miller’s Circe. A few small notes I couldn’t fit elsewhere: something very minor that bothered me a lot but that to be honest I don’t think most readers will notice is the extremely chaotic approach to occasional references to the world outside Greece - Sumer is randomly mentioned… chronologically after Babylon and Assyria, and in relation to Persians (or rather - to Perses living among them). At the time we can speak of “Persians” Sumerian was a dead language at best understood by a few literati in the former great cities of Mesopotamia so this is about the same as if a novel about Mesopotamia mentioned Macedonians and then completely randomly Minoans at a chronologically later point. Miller additionally either confused or conflated Perses, son of Perseus, who was viewed positively and associated with Persia (so positively that Xerxes purportedly tried to use it for propaganda purposes!) with Perses the obscure brother of Circe et. al, who is a villain in an equally obscure myth casting Medea as the heroine, in which he rules over “Tauric Chersonese,” the Greek name of a part of Crimea. I am honestly uncertain why was he even there as he amounts to nothing in the book, and there are more prominent minor children of Helios who get no mention (like Aix or Phaeton) so it’s hard to argue it was for the sake of completion. Medea evidently doesn’t triumph over him offscreen which is his sole mythical purpose. Is there something I liked? Well, I’m pretty happy Selene only spoke twice, considering it’s in all due likeness all that spared her from the fate of receiving similarly “amazing” new characterization as her brother. As is, she was… okay. Overall I am definitely not a fan of the book. As for its purported ideological value? It certainly has a female main character. Said character sure does have many experiences which are associated with women. However, I can’t help but think that the novel isn’t exactly feminist - it certainly focuses on Circe, but does it really try to “rehabilitate” her? And is it really “rehabilitation” and feminist reinterpretation when almost every single female character in the book is the same, and arguably depicted with even less compassion than in the source material? It instead felt like the author’s goal is take away any joy and grandeur present in myths, and to deprive Circe of most of what actually makes her Circe. We don’t need to make myths joyless to make them fit for a new era. It’s okay for female characters to be wacky one off villains and there’s no need to punish them for it. A book which celebrates Circe for who she actually is in the Odyssey and in other Greek sources - an unapologetic and honestly pretty funny character - would feel much more feminist to me that a book where she is a wacky witch not because she feels like it but because she got raped, if you ask me.

Circe evidently having the time of her life, by Edmund Dulac (public domain)

#circe #madeline miller #greek mythology #madeline miller circe

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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Pretty Boy

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Dakota Lowman)

Combining an Anonymous request and a request from @adela-topaz-caelon: Juice Ortiz x F!Reader, were the reader is Happy’s daughter and her boyfriend is Juice? and Juice x female reader where they're at the clubhouse or somewhere, just chilling to keep reader safe or something, and you get those cheesy moments of catching an eye, or an absentmindedly kiss that causes flusteredness

Warnings: language, alcohol, Juice being a lil cutie pie

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I tweaked each of these requests a little bit, but I hope y’all still enjoy it! I got the Happy’s Daughter request and immediately me and @garbinge started brainstorming OC ideas and we ended up with two daughters for Happy. Clearly we get carried away haha. This is just a fluffy little one-shot and a sort of wamrup/intro to the Lowman Sisters as OCs. We (when I say “we”, I totally mean me and Anj as a unit lmao) have big plans for them in the future and I can’t wait to take y’all along for the ride. In the meantime, enjoy this lil oneshot! xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @kkim120 @everyhowlmarksthedead @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @mayans-sauce @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @jitterbugs927 @mrsstevenbuchananstark (If you want to be added to the list feel free to let me know!)

“Out of all the women in the universe,” Juice spoke up with a shake of his head, “I think the last two that need someone to watch their backs are Happy’s daughters, that’s all.”

Jax shook his head, “Everyone has someone watching their back, no exceptions.”

“Yea but they don’t need—”

He cut Juice off, “Club call, not theirs.”

Both of Happy’s daughters were sitting back, watching the entire interaction play out in front of them. It wasn’t something that they’d never gone through before, but they each knew that there was a more tactful way to go about it without making them feel like they were being saddled with babysitters. His youngest thought it was all bullshit, but she wasn’t willing to put up a fight over it. Her older sister, however, didn’t have the same reservations.

“Fuck this,” she stood up off her barstool, “You don’t get to make that call for me, Teller.”

“Hap said—”

“Well Hap isn’t here,” she rolled her eyes as she swiped her keys off the table, “Tell my old man if he wants someone to babysit me, he can do it himself,” she began walking towards the clubhouse door, “just like the good old days.”

“Diedra,” Jax stepped towards her, wrapping his hand around her forearm.

She immediately twisted her arm out of his grasp and used her other hand to shove him backwards, “Do that again and I’ll bust your fucking nose,” she waited a beat to see if any of them were going to try to stop her again, and when they didn’t, she looked over to her sister, “Call me if any of these assholes give you any trouble, alright?”

She nodded, “Alright.”

The clubhouse door slammed behind her, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Jax glanced over at Juice, who was trying to look anywhere but at his VP and the young woman still perched at the bar. With a heavy sigh, Jax spoke up, “Don’t go two for two on losing the Lowman Sisters, alright? Hap is gonna wring my fucking neck over Di as it is.”

“He won’t,” she shook her head, chuckling slightly, “You think our dad doesn’t know what you’re dealing with?”

“You think that your dad is really gonna care about that when it comes down to it?” Jax retorted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get his tone in order, “Sorry, Kota. It’s not on you. Just, please stay with Juice, alright? Just until we figure all this shit out.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and trying to pretend that she didn’t get a little bit of sadistic enjoyment out of Jax’s stress over her father and sister, “Sure, I can handle that.”

He didn’t say anything more before also heading out the door, managing to shut it a little quieter than the woman who had walked out before him. It left just Juice and Dakota by themselves in the clubhouse—everyone else either on club business or safely within the walls of their own homes waiting out the impending chaos.

“How pissed is your dad gonna be about your sister?” Juice asked, a smirk starting to curl the edges of his mouth.

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “He’s not going to actually be pissed. He knows how Di gets about lockdown and shit,” she paused, smiling, “But he is going to make Jax feel like shit about it first.”

Juice chuckled, “Perfect.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “So do I get to know why I need a bodyguard or…?”

“H-happy didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, “No,” with a huff she rolled her eyes, “he never tells me shit. I don’t, I don’t know why Di gets to know everything and I don’t. I don’t get what’s so different.”

“She is older,” Juice couldn’t pretend to understand the dynamics in the Lowman family but it seemed like an easy justification to offer up.

“By like, four years. That doesn’t mean shit.”

Juice laughed, “You sound a little bitter.”

“Bitter is in our blood, Juan,” she laughed as she finished off her coffee.

The use of his real name caught him off-guard. The two of them hadn’t ever really talked much, just little conversations here and there. He didn’t think that she knew his real name at all, let alone felt comfortable enough with him to use it. Despite the bite in her tone for every other word she spoke, there was a softness when she said it.

“Right,” he tried to keep himself focused, “Well, your sister seems like a girl full of answers so maybe you should ask her about it.”

“Glad I’m at least going to be locked down with a comedian,” she shook her head before getting up and tossing her coffee cup in the garbage, “So, what? You just gonna follow me around while I do things? Keep me company while I get a pedicure?”

He laughed, “I don’t think that you should really be out getting pedicures right now.”

“Well, then could you at least take me back to my place?” she laughed, “Di and I came together and she just stormed off with the keys.”

Juice couldn’t help the laughter that slipped past his lips, “Yea, yea I think I can handle that.”

As the two of them walked across the lot towards Juice’s bike, Dakota became very aware of the fact that the two of them hadn’t ever spent any one-on-one time together. They saw each other in passing at the clubhouse, and a couple times he’d worked on her car in the past, but they didn’t really know each other. She knew of him, the same way he probably knew of her. But they didn’t learn anything about each other, from each other.

In the past when she and her sister needed someone to watch their back because of things going on with the club, it would usually just be Happy, because that made the most sense. And realistically, Diedra had been right when she said that she could handle herself perfectly fine. If the two of them were left to their own devices they’d probably be okay, but it wasn’t a chance that the MC was willing to take. On a rare occasion or two Chibs or Tig kept an eye on them, but those men usually kept their distance.

Juice handed her a spare helmet, a lopsided grin on his face, “Where is your place, anyway?”

“Apartment complex just off Main?” she said as she clipped the helmet on, “Gray Street.”

He nodded, “Got it.”

She settled onto the bike behind him with ease, no stranger to the ins and outs of a ride. It caught Juice off-guard for a moment before he remembered who she was. He looked down to see her well-manicured nails interlocked over his stomach and he didn’t know why but it made him smile. She leaned against him a little, waiting for him to peel out of the compound. He checked with her to make sure she was good before taking off.

As he rolled into the parking lot of the complex, Dakota directed him where to go and park. Diedra’s car was nowhere to be seen. And while it had been made abundantly clear that she was in charge of herself, Juice still felt a little responsible for how everything had played out.

“You two live here together, right?” he asked as he put down the kickstand of his bike.

“Yea,” she unclipped her helmet and tousled her hair, “but she’s probably blowing off steam somewhere. Maybe tracking down our dad,” she laughed.

“Was it weird growing up with Happy as a dad?” the question came out before he could stop it, and regret instantly flooded over his features, “Fuck, sorry. I, I know it’s really not my business.”

She chuckled as she dug her keys out of her purse, “You’re fine. Don’t apologize so much.”

“Sor—” he stopped himself, “Right.”

“But in answer to your question,” they slowly made their way up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building, “He…he tried. He does the best he can, you know? I think all our parents do,” she put the key in the lock of her door, “Doesn’t mean that their best is always good enough, but it’s all they can do.”

She was about to step inside when Juice put an arm out in front of her to stop her. She chuckled, nodding for him to go in first and scope the place out, even though it was highly unlikely that anyone ended up there looking for her or her sister.

About a minute later she heard Juice’s voice calling for her to come inside. She laughed as she stepped in, locking the door behind her before tossing her purse off to the side and instantly kicking off her shoes. Juice watched her, and as she sauntered her way into the kitchen he really began to question how the two of them never ended up really speaking to each other. He and Diedra had had a handful of conversations, although they weren’t deep or filled with a lot of pleasantries. But he felt like he had a better idea of who she was, than who her little sister was. She was always kind unless provoked, but she kept to herself a lot of the time.

“Smoothie?” she offered as she pulled a half-full blender out of the fridge.

Juice laughed in surprise. Usually when he was at someone’s house they offered beer, or something stronger. He’d never even been offered water before let alone a smoothie. He shook his head, “I’m good for now, thanks.”

She shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

By the time Diedra came back to the apartment, the sun had long since set. Dakota and Juice were camped out at the counter, both of them laughing hard at whatever story Juice had been telling. They heard the sound of the key in the lock and both of them looked over at the door expectantly. Diedra walked inside, kicking off her boots and tossing her keys immediately. She’d seen Juice’s bike parked outside and wasn’t enthused, and when she could hear their laughter from the hallway, she had the feeling that he wasn’t going to be in a rush to get back to the clubhouse or go home.

She looked about as exhausted and frustrated as she felt. She’d gone and tracked down her father, which did nothing to help the current situation. On top of him being upset about how she was handling the whole protection side of things, he was mad that she had gone out on a manhunt to find him, completely defeating the purpose of having someone keeping her safe.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she skipped over the pleasantries and got right to the point, “With the two of us here we should be alright.”

“I, uh, I don’t mind,” Juice didn’t know why he found Diedra to be just as intimidating as her father, but he did, “I can hang out a little longer.”

She shrugged, not looking to argue about it, “Suit yourself,” she looked at her sister, “I’m gonna go shower.”

Dakota gave a wordless nod and watched her sister disappear to the other end of the apartment. She let out a sigh and shook her head—she didn’t know the details of her older sister’s day, but she didn’t have to. Dakota could tell from the moment she walked in that the day hadn’t gone in her favor. She’d try to be there for her if she thought it would get either of them anywhere, but if there was one thing that she’d learned about her sister in all their years growing up together, was that those kinds of things happened on Diedra’s terms, and no one else’s.

“She always this cheery?” Juice asked with tiny smirk, “Or just when I’m around?”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “It has nothing to do with you, personally. It’s…complicated. Honestly, she’s gotta like you on some level because she hasn’t threatened you yet. But either way,” she reached and rested her hand on his for a moment, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The touch was light and momentary but Juice felt it course through his entire body. He cleared his throat, trying to do anything besides stare at his hands, “Well that’s…that’s nice to hear.”

“And not that I’m trying to rush you out, but for the sake of your own self-esteem,” there was a playful smile on her face, “you might wanna just head out and come back in the morning. She’ll be a little cooled off by then.”

He nodded, “Yea, yea okay,” he hopped up and they both made their way towards the door, “Lock it behind me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yea, I’ve done this before.”

He stood in the hallway for a moment as Dakota leaned against the doorframe, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of her mouth. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew better. He shoved his hands into his pockets to fight the urge.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then?” she asked.

He nodded, “I’ll be here bright and early.”

She laughed, “I’ll have coffee ready, then,” she paused, “Goodnight, Juan.”

He smiled, “Goodnight.”

A little while later, when Dakota was already in bed scrolling on her phone, there was a knock on her bedroom door. She turned on the light and called for her sister to come in. When the door opened, Diedra was standing there wrapped in her towel, clothes draped over her arm as she propped herself against the side of the door.

“You all good?”

Dakota propped herself up on her elbows, nodding, “Yea, yea I’m good. You good?”

She shrugged, “I’ll be alright.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Pfft,” her annoyance wasn’t aimed at her sister, “Nothing to say. Same shit,” there was a beat of silence, “Juice stay here with you all day?”

She nodded, “Yea. I know you don’t like him but he seems swe—”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” she let out a small sigh, “the whole situation is just a fuckin’ mess. Plus you and I are adults—we don’t need fucking babysitters.”

Dakota couldn’t do anything besides nod, “I know. I just, I don’t see the point in fighting it if we’re just gonna lose.”

“You’re only fine with it because they saddled you with the pretty boy,” a knowing smirk crossed Diedra’s face for a moment.

Her little sister laughed, “Certainly doesn’t hurt to have something nice to look at in a pseudo-lockdown.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, “Just don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Never,” she laughed, “Love you.”

“Love you.”

With that she shut the door and made her way off to her own room. Dakota flopped back down onto her pillow with a sigh, trying to get everything in order in her head. All she ever really wanted to do was keep the peace, but it was practically an impossible task at this point so she wondered what the use was in even trying anymore.

True to her word, the next morning there was already a pot of coffee made by the time that Juice got there. Truthfully, she’d just set an alarm specifically for that purpose and then gone right back to bed. That was made evident to him by the fact that she answered the door half-asleep, hair still a bit of a frizzy mess from a night of tossing and turning. She smiled and waved him in but didn’t say much of anything, wordlessly gesturing to the coffee pot to let him know to help himself.

“Not a morning person?” he chuckled.

She shook her head, running her hands down her face, “No, that’s always been Di’s thing. I’m a night owl.”

As if on cue, Diedra came bounding into the apartment, headphones still on and drenched in sweat from her run and workout that morning. She saw Juice standing in the kitchen and offered him a slight nod as she made her way directly to the bathroom to shower. She lightly patted Dakota on the back as she walked by, letting the gesture serve as her greeting for the morning.

“So,” Juice drummed his fingers on the edge of the counter as he watched Dakota pour them each a cup of coffee, “what’s the plan for today?”

She shrugged as she slid it across to him, “You tell me,” she took a sip, “I got some school shit I gotta do, but I can do it here or at the clubhouse if that’s better. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, so I’m following your lead on this.”

No one had ever said those words in that order to him before. He took a long drink out of his coffee cup to buy himself a few extra seconds to think, “Um, I mean, clubhouse would probably be best. More people around,” his eyes flicked towards the other end of the apartment, “I’m guessing your sister is just gonna…”

“Do whatever she wants to do?” she laughed, nodding, “Sounds about right,” she stretched, taking a deep breath, “Alright. Let me get ready and we can head out.”

“Okay,” he sat down at the counter, “No rush or anything.”

While he was finishing his coffee and waiting for Dakota to get ready, her sister emerged back into the kitchen, no longer in her sweaty workout clothes. She had on a baggy hoodie and a pair of running shorts, hair still down and damp as she opened the fridge to start pulling together her smoothie for the morning.

“Where you two crazy kids off to today?” she asked as she set everything on the counter.

“Just to the clubhouse,” he paused, trying to figure out if she should ask what he was about to ask, “You?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, her expression serious for a moment before she cracked the smallest of smiles, “I’ll be around. Got some shit I gotta handle.”

“Anything I can—”

“All you gotta worry about is my sister and the club, Juice,” her tone was firm, but not mean.

Before he could say anything more, Dakota walked back out into the kitchen. She looked back and forth between her sister and Juice, surprised at the lack of tension in the room. There wasn’t the fear of god in Juice’s eyes the way there had been the night before.

“We’re gonna head out,” she gave Juice a slight nod towards the door before looking back at her sister, “Text me when you get where you’re going?”

She nodded, “Sure thing. Don’t let him wipe out on the bike.”

Dakota laughed as she looked over at Juice, “Well, guess we’re taking the bike.”

Dakota made herself comfortable at one of the tables in the clubhouse. She had her headphones on and her schoolwork spread out across the table in front of her. Between her notebooks and her laptop, there was just enough room for Juice and his computer on the other side of the table. Every now and then she’d look up and catch him staring at her, and she’d offer up a smile before diving back into her work. Juice wanted to ask her about it, wanted just about any reason to listen to her talk, but he stopped himself.

It was late in the afternoon when she finally leaned back in her chair, taking her headphones off with a groan. She ran her hands down her face as she shook her head, trying to get her brain to slow down. Juice looked up at her, chuckling quietly.

“It’s going that well, huh?”

“Go back to school they said. It’ll be good for you they said,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, “Fuck this. I don’t know why I’m paying to suffer.”

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh, “Sorry it’s so rough.”

She shrugged, “It’s fine. I just need to complain about it sometimes,” she smiled at him, “And since you’re the one who is stuck with me, you’re the one who has to hear it. Sorry.”

“You can complain as much as you want,” a smirk tugged at his lips as he drummed his fingers on the table, “I don’t mind.”

That was the routine that they fell into for the next week. Each morning Juice would show up at her apartment, make small-talk with Diedra that got less and less awkward as the days went on, and then they’d head to the clubhouse once Dakota was ready. On the days when Juice was actually working at T-M, Dakota would set herself up at the picnic table outside, or if she was just reading, she would find an empty chair in the garage to sit in so that the two of them would stay close. It wasn’t that they really needed to talk all that much, but the proximity was nice. And, for the time being, they had the cover of the fact that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her.

In the midst of a sea of fleeting touches and soft smiles, neither of them brought themselves to say anything to address all the feelings that were bubbling up. A few times, Juice almost did. There were moments, after he’d park his bike at the clubhouse or her apartment, and she’d leave her arms wrapped around him a little longer than necessary. She’d keep herself flush against his back despite the fact that she didn’t need to anymore, and he’d almost get the nerve to say something to her. But it never quite happened. He’d see her reading, taking notes on something that was way above his paygrade, and every square inch of his brain would scream at him to tell her that she’s beautiful, but the words always got caught in his throat.

“Guess what,” Diedra strode over to the picnic table where her sister was sitting, laptop set up in front of her for class.

She looked up, eyebrows raised, “What’s up?”

“As of,” she looked at the time on her phone, “One hour and twenty-five minutes ago, we are no longer on fake, need-a-babysitter lockdown.”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “I don’t think that you ever really were.”

“Yea, well,” Diedra laughed as she swiped up her sister’s drink and took a sip of it, “now Dad can’t keep giving me shit about it. So that’s a plus,” there were a few beats of silence, “You gonna break the news to pretty boy over there? Or you gonna let the club do it?”

She smiled, shaking her head, “No news to break. Shit will just go back to business as usual.”

“He’s gonna be real fuckin’ bummed about it, you know.”

She arched one eyebrow, “Why does it feel like you’re encouraging this?”

“He seems less shitty than most the other guys you’ve brought around.”

“We’re not even—”

“I know,” Diedra chuckled, “I know you’re not. But he’s chomping at the fuckin’ bit so I’d say something before he thinks that he’s completely lost his shot.”

Dakota’s nails clacked on the surface of the picnic table as she tapped them, clearly thinking about everything her sister had said to her. Diedra walked away, letting her little sister mull over what she had said.

As the afternoon was drawing to a close, the guys all came out of church into the main expanse of the clubhouse. Everyone was whooping and hollering, and it was clear that whatever the issue it was that had arisen, had been taken care of. Everyone else who was already at the clubhouse joined in on the cheering, despite not knowing all of the details.

Diedra and Dakota were camped out at the bar, each of them smiling and shaking their heads because they knew the antics that were about to ensue. The music immediately got louder and the prospect behind the bar skipped over grabbing glasses and just took out a few entire bottles of liquor to set on the counter for the guys to grab.

After a few minutes of the initial chaos, Dakota felt someone’s hand land on her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see Juice, but instead came face-to-face with her father. She smiled up at him as she took a sip of her beer.

“Glad everything got sorted.”

He nodded, “For now,” there was a pause as he looked her over, “You’re alright?”

She laughed, “Yea, Dad, I’m alright. I’m not the person at the top of the priority list for anyone who is out to get you. And even if I was,” she nodded towards her sister who was now at the other end of the bar in a heated discussion with Tig about something, “between Di and Juan, no one was getting to me.”

His brows furrowed when he heard her refer to him by his real name, “He didn’t do anything fucking stupid, did he?”

She almost choked on her beer, shaking her head, “No, no he didn’t. Jesus Christ, Dad, cut the kid some slack.”

“Alright,” he nodded, pulling her in and placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I love you too.”

Happy disappeared into the crowd and it was only a few moments before the stool beside her became occupied. She glanced over, a smile spreading across her face when she saw the person she’d been expecting originally.

“Congrats on, well,” she chuckled, “whatever you guys did.”

Juice smiled, shaking his head, “Just keeping ourselves alive and outta jail for another day. That’s all,” he paused as he took the beer bottle being handed to him by the man on the other side of the bar, “Guess you’ll finally be able to go and get your pedicures now.”

She laughed, “Yea I guess so. The invite is still open if you wanna come with me. It’s quite the experience.”

“Tempting,” he leaned onto the bar, letting his elbows rest on it, “But I think I’m good.”

“You know, even if you don’t want to go and get pedicures with me,” she sipped on her beer, “We could find something else to do that we could both enjoy.”

He looked over at her, a tentative smile on his face, “Yea?”

She shrugged, “Yea. Preferably something not early in the morning. I’d love to go back to sleeping in,” she couldn’t help but to laugh.

“You didn’t have to wake up early, you know.”

“Yea, but, I wanted to. I…I like spending time with you.”

That statement hung in the air for a few seconds before she gently nudged his knee with her own. It snapped him out of whatever train of thought he was trapped in, his eyes searching hers waiting to figure out the next move. She smiled, a quiet laugh passing her lips before she leaned in and kissed him, her hand coming to rest on the back of his head.

Shock went through his body for a moment as he forced himself to realize that it was really happening, that it wasn’t just a dream. His hand lightly gripped onto her thigh as he let himself lean into her. When she pulled her lips off of his, they each laughed, the sound of it soft against the raucous noise of the clubhouse.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Juice forced out through the surprise coursing through his system, “If…if you wanted to do something.”

Dakota laughed, leaning back onto her seat but letting her hand tangle up with his, “Yea, I could do something tomorrow.”

“Afternoon?” he said with a laugh.

“Yea,” she laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, “Tomorrow afternoon is good.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x oc #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #oc dakota #oc dakota lowman #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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dancingwiththeplanets · 4 years

Text

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter one

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 2 / masterlist

Summary: Boba tries to shield you from the dark side of his life. In his eyes, you are too innocent and pure for the harsh realities of the work that surrounds him. So when one day you stumble upon a meeting gone wrong when you were supposed to be hidden away, Boba’s afraid you won’t like the pieces of him he’s tried to protect you from, or worse, that now you’ll fear him.

A/N: My first fic in like 6 years, I'm nervous! haha This is kind of an AU I think?? Takes place after the events of season 2. I’ve added in two OC Mandos to the entourage because I love me some of that tribal brotherhood devotion. Also.. considering making this a series?

Warnings: soft!Boba (like, REALLY soft!Boba) protectiveness, maybe over-protectiveness? small character death, nobody important, two new sexy mandalorians (we’ll learn about them later), not much to be honest.

Word Count: 5.7k+

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There’s a lot to Jabba’s palace that most people don’t know about. A lot’s changed since the esteemed Boba Fett took over the throne and claimed ownership over the fortress in Tatooine. Castle might actually be a better word for it. Somewhat modest and ordinary looking on the outside, the true magnitude and vastness of the castle is hidden underground, even past the comfortably sized throne room.

What lingers further down the sandstone hallways are an array of rooms and staircases, mostly leading down in different directions. There’s a library and a kitchen and even a ballroom, which never has and probably never will be put to use. There are guest rooms that are more suitably described as luxurious suites, for the grand total of zero guests that Boba will allow to stay in his sanctuary.

There are permanently standing rooms for only a handful of the staff: the maid, Ada. Fennec, of course. And the two newest members of Boba’s trusted, elite team, Enzo and Raul, who arrived shortly before you did. The two are a pair of dutiful and truly impressive Mandalorians who serve at his beck and call, courtesy of Boba Fett’s ally and only recognized leader (not that he’s ever told what to do), Mand’alor Din Djarin.

Past the staff rooms and further down an open and beautifully lit hall, is the communal area of the palace, the center, if you will. Fully equipped to socialize and entertain guests with comfortable seating, a fireplace, and charming embellishments around the room. A warm and pleasant area of the palace that likewise, does not get as much use out of it as it should.

And finally, behind the common area, which in its own way, serves as a magnificent entryway, is Boba Fett’s private chambers. Home to the respected and feared bounty-hunter turned ruler, and you, his haven.

You. His cyare. His beloved. The ruthless king had fallen in love with you and your delicate heart, seemingly untampered with and somehow not left scarred by the harsh realities of Tatooine. He saw in you light and tenderness, and you gave him joy and true unconditional love. He spent many, far too many, late nights in Mos Eisley, at the cantina you worked in as a waitress. At some point visiting you every night to walk you home at the end of your shift, though you assured him you always made it home perfectly fine on your own. But Boba secretly lived for those extra few minutes he could spend with you walking you to your residence. Not to mention, he couldn’t fathom why it didn’t scare the bantha shit out of you to be walking around Mos Eisley alone at night, unarmed. That fact that you did sure as hell scared him.

On most nights he walked you home, you invited him in, unless you were absolutely too spent to spend another moment standing. But it was on those long nights that poured into the early hours of the lovely Tatooine sunrise that you and Boba grew close and eventually professed your love for one another. Soon after, he hopefully, and quite timidly, asked you to live at his palace with him. Though you’d never been before, you knew exactly where it was, and for that matter, who he was.

The new king of Tatooine had a reputation for being ruthless, unforgiving, and dangerous. And you didn’t miss the way people cowered away from his presence, especially when he wore the armor. Though, by your own calculations, every other patron who marched their way through these lands was just as feral as the Boba Fett they all believed they knew, and not one had ever been as kind or as gentle, or captivated your thoughts, the way he did.

He knew these things. More than most in the galaxy, he knew what a cruel fate such a pure being could meet, and if truth be told, he wanted to escape with your kind soul and shield you from this harsh planet before anything could harm you.

When he asked you again to go with him, you met his hopeful and loving gaze, eyes filled with devotion and admiration, and the corner of his lips pulled up just slightly in the most endearing of grins, you couldn't help but to instantly wrap your arms around him, leave a kiss to his neck, and tell him nothing would make you happier.

“Besides,” you teased, nuzzling into his neck, “I always wanted to be a princess.”

Boba chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling your face back and tracing his thumb under your chin. “Believe me, mesh’la. You already were one.”

The next day, you found yourself and what little you owned in possessions, situating in your new home. Like everyone else, you had shockingly inaccurate presumptions about the size of the palace, soon learning that what lay hidden behind the throne room and down the sandstone halls was a modest castle to get lost in. No matter, you adjusted to your new environment and routine, though still unused to the respect and coddling you received on a daily basis, you adored every extra moment spent with your king.

Which is how now, five months later, you lay quiet and still as a mouse in bed, gazing dreamily at a sleeping Boba next to you. The early morning light casting a light blue hue over the room, as the suns hadn’t quite risen just yet. You were fortunate enough that your bedroom, the top floor to your two story chambers, was one of the few rooms in the palace with a proper window, the rest of your home and castle being underground.

A low grumble from the man next to you causes you to hold your breath, eyes not daring to leave his form as he breathes in a deep sigh. “You know,” he begins drowsily, “the moment you wake up and opt to stare at me instead of closing those lovely eyes again and getting some more rest, is the exact moment that I wake up too.”

“You don’t have to wake up,” you smile teasingly.

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut heavily against the apples of his cheeks. “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“For all you know,” You retort, “I’ve been staring at you, awake for hours.”

At this, Boba’s unimpressed gaze turns to you, eyes now latched onto yours. “You haven’t been.” He says.

“And how would you know?” You giggle back, “I haven’t moved a hair. I woke up facing you, and didn’t move anything but my gaze. So unless you can detect the vibrations from my blinking, you couldn’t know.”

“I know.”

It’s your turn to look unimpressed, “How?”

“Because,” He leans in close to you, your noses lightly touching and a devilish look in his eyes, “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“Mm.” You hum unconvinced, eyes fluttering closed as he leaves a kiss to your nose then pulls away to sit at the edge of the bed. You follow his form as he stretches to a stand, joints popping as he twists his back and arms around, the result of a body having gone to war and back countless times. You sit up tiredly and lean against the headboard, watching him pull on his under armor, then latching on the Beskar. Piece by piece his body is decorated with more intimidating and handsome armor, slowly shielding your eyes from the scarred but lovely body of his that you admire possibly a little too much.

“You stare any harder and I might decide to take it back off,” Boba quips, a smirk rising on his cheeks.

You blush, shaking your head and looking away, gaze now pointedly out the window.

“Mesh’la,” He says, grabbing your attention again, his hands now occupied tugging on his gloves as he takes a few strides towards you. He smiles at the pink tint to your cheeks and your guilty smile, the remains of having been caught admiring him still plastered on your face. “I have important business to attend to today. But I’ve arranged for those workers to come and paint the library in a couple hours, would you mind overseeing it?”

He lifts a hand to lightly brush his thumb along your cheek, looking down upon you quizzically.

“Of course.” You nod eagerly. You've slowly been tending to every inch of the palace, erasing all remnants of the Hutt’s and adding in touches of comfort and warmth wherever you can. You wouldn’t say decorating is a passion of yours. But this is your home now, you might as well fill it with things you admire. Plus, Boba said if you didn’t take over the project, he’d just paint everything grey and toss out the old furniture without replacements.

You shiver as you untuck yourself from your velvety comforter. For a fortress built on possibly one of the hottest planets in the Outer Rim, this place can get cold. Probably due to the fact that it’s rooted so deeply underground.

Happy to have something to do, you head to the fresher for a quick wash before Boba leaves to his duties. You exit your chambers together, Enzo and Raul already waiting in the common area for you both. Upon seeing them, you turn and leave a gentle kiss to the cheek of Boba’s helmet for a final moment of private intimacy before you descend the staircase, hearing him chuckle fondly at your action as he follows.

“Good morning Fett, my lady.” Enzo bows lowly, turning to you. You laugh and shove his shoulder upon reaching the pair of them. You can hear the hint of amusement in his voice as Raul shakes his head beside him.

“Good morning gentlemen.” You smile.

Boba huffs coming to stand beside you, “Gentlemen.” He scoffs at your words.

Raul clears his throat, “Crane should be here soon, boss.” He says, visor trained on Boba and arms crossed over his chest, gaze briefly turning towards you before meeting the boss again.

You look towards your partner, “Your meeting today?” You ask.

“Yes.” He says, giving a quick nod.

“Alright,” You say, glancing at the suspiciously still trio of Beskar-clad men, “I’m going to the kitchens to have some breakfast. Then I’ll meet up with those workers in the library.”

Boba nods again, confirming your agenda.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to sputter out whatever it is you know he’s wanting to say.

“...Then,” You go on, “I guess I will, do some reading or...baking or...stare at the wall or something.”

“Sounds like a riveting afternoon,” Raul says after a more than comfortable silence.

“Okay,” you smile, chuckling a little and taking a step back, choosing to dismiss yourself now before the awkwardness has a chance to develop. “Have fun with Mr. Crane.”

Boba clears his throat as you turn towards the kitchens, stopping you with a hand on your arm. “Mesh’la,” He says, glancing pointedly at Raul and Enzo, who move to wait for him a few paces away. “Could you do me a favor?”

You tilt your head suspiciously, urging him to go on. “You’re acting rather strange Boba Fett.” You tease.

He grunts, “I’ve had a lot of trouble with Calendei Crane. He’s not a very loyal man, nor do I consider him a good one. He’s had a lot of chances to make up for the problems he’s caused me, but recently he went too far, and we’re not going to be having a charming reunion just now.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is... he didn’t necessarily come here by his own accord. And he won’t be very happy that he is.”

“I understand.” You nod.

Boba frowns inside his helm. I don’t think you do cyare.

“Alright then,” he says, “That said, I would really appreciate it if you would stay away from the throne room today. At least until I send Fennec or Enzo for you or something.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his hand opening and closing nervously by his side. He thinks you don’t know what he means. Oh Boba.

You reach for his hand as you step closer to his form. “Boba,” you whisper, leaning up towards him with a small smile, “You are the most kind and gentle man I’ve ever known. But I know that you are a man of business and principles. You do whatever you have to do. If an employee of yours is out there making a mess under your name, I would expect nothing less than for you to handle it.” You say, hoping to reassure him.

You raise your free hand to rest against the cheek of his helmet, “But I’ll busy myself back here until you’re done.”

He lets out a sigh in relief, hand reaching up to grab yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He says, before tenderly tapping his forehead against yours and turning to get on with his day.

You shake your head at his retreating form. Despite all of the darkness and dirt and the scum that surround Boba in his everyday life, he really does try everything in his power to not let it touch you. It’s almost as if despite the late night confessions and raw conversations you two have shared about your lives don’t translate to reality for Boba. As if he somehow believes you don’t truly know what it is that he does and who he is.

He seems to forget that you yourself have grown up with the same scum that populate this planet. In the nearest city to here in fact, where all the mudscuppers of the galaxy would stay and wreak havoc when this was once Jabba’s palace. You’ve seen things. You’ve experienced things. Some things that, shamefully, you haven’t yet shared with Boba. But what you can say with the utmost of certainty is that you know exactly the kind of people that like to deal in underworld business. And you know that there are many cruel beings out there. But Boba, he certainly isn’t one of them.

You sigh, turning to pass through the empty dining hall to the kitchens. The light tapping of your shoes echoing in the desolate space. A part of you wishes you had said to him, ‘Oh Boba, when will you learn that you don’t need to protect me from yourself?’

A necessary conversation for another time, you decide.

Shaking away your thoughts, you wander into the kitchen, making yourself a quick breakfast and giggling a while with Ada, as she begins preparing a stew for all staff members taking up a residency in the palace. She often prepares meals in substantial quantities, making enough for herself, you, Boba, Fennec, and the two other Mandalorians to all enjoy in your respective chambers.

“Take some of these to go dear!” She calls out, chasing after your form as you exit the kitchen. “You had better be eating a balanced diet.” She chides, handing you a towel with some berries on it.

“Thank you Ada,” you smile, leaving a peck to her cheek and making your way to the library.

When you arrive, the workers still aren't there, and you hum glancing at the clock. They should have already been here and working at least for an hour by now.

Expecting their arrival soon, you busy yourself with cleaning dusty bookshelves and making piles of the previous inhabitants' furnishings and decorations you’d rather not have.

You plop down on the floor after sorting through your ninth bookshelf, sighing after attempting to categorize everything by genre. Even opting to make a pile of books to get rid of, because really, nobody needs handbooks on slave trading and dealing in the dark business of the underworld. They’re just not something you’d like in your home.

You glance at the time again. “What on Tatooine.” You mutter, stretching to a stand. You’ve officially been bailed on, because you've been sitting in this dingy library for four hours and if nobody’s shown up yet, you doubted they would be.

Looking around at the mess you’ve made, you decide to finish tackling this task tomorrow, and head back down the hall towards your private chambers.

You pause to lean against the wall with your eyes closed, letting out a great yawn. It’s barely past noon and you’re already beat.

A voice calls your name just in front of you, startling you in the dark, candlelit hall.

“Ada!” You jump, with a hand to your chest.

“Mm, I’m sorry sweet one.” She frowns. “You had better go check on your Mandalorian.” She says sternly, wagging a finger up at you. “He sounds angrier than a farmer whose fresh crops have been raided by Tuskans.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, frowning. “Does he sound alright?” You ask, concerned.

“Too riled up.” She chides, shaking her head as she continues to pass you in the hall, grabbing a hold of your arm “Go straighten him out, lecture him on that temper of his.”

“Ada,” You sigh, “He’s dealing with a trying issue right now, and I promised that I’d stay away from this meeting.”

“Peh,” She waves her hand in dismissal, “Fine, your decision. But I did see a couple of those workers you were waiting on looking rather frightened up in the throne room. Go on and fetch them and get on with your project. You left quite a mess in there for me to deal with.”

“What?” You look disbelievingly at her, “Well why didn't you just send them my way. I waited all morning for them.”

She shakes her head, looping her arm through yours as you continue walking side-by-side. You roll your eyes at the nerve.

The sound of sudden, unmistakable shouting, coming from much further down the hall and up the stairs ascending to the throne room stops you instantly. Your eyes widen a bit as the voice carries on, rather menacingly. You wouldn’t want to be the one receiving the tail end of that conversation. Boba truly does sound pissed. You wonder how long he’s been with this Crane fellow.

“Ada,” you whisper, the lower tone seeming appropriate, “Don’t you go trying to get me into trouble.” You say, pulling her back as she tries to urge you forward.

“Young lady,” She scolds, looking up at you in a surprisingly threatening way. “I have much work to do. I need my good broom which I left up those stairs, and you need your painters or carpenters or whatever it is those fellas up there are. So, let us ladies get on with our business and fetch our things.”

“If you’re already heading up,” You say through slightly gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you just go up there, grab your broom, and do me the favor of nudging down my workers while you’re at it.”

“Because I have a bad leg. Now either accompany me up stairs so that I don’t fall or go on and get those things for the two of us at last!”

“Maker, Ada fine!” You say, losing your temper. A part of you knowing she was just stirring up trouble. You start up the first step and turn to her with an obvious empty threat. “And I’ll be sure to note to Boba that our maid has a bad leg leaving her incapable of climbing our palace full of stairs.” You mutter disbelievingly.

“Mm, you do that.” She counters.

You sigh, shaking your head as you quickly make your way up, hearing Ada walk away behind you.

That woman knows far too well that we would never replace her, you think.

Your focus shifting back to the surprisingly silent throne room just up and down the hall, you walk wearily, suddenly a little nervous.

You notice as you near the room, your steps silent down the hall, that there is a hushed but heated back and forth taking place.

“-swear Mr. Fett I-I d-didn’t know they were-”

“-What?” You hear Boba’s ominous voice interrupt. “You didn't know what?”

His form comes into view as you peek your head into the room, watching him descend the steps of his throne and approaching the accused slowly. You take a half step back, hoping to further hide your position, seeing as before, you were concealed behind his back. But given his new stance, the flicker of his gaze upwards and Boba would be met with your sinful and curious eyes.

Raul, you note, leans comfortably against the wall across the room behind Boba, observing the scene from afar, but seemingly more interested in fixing a mechanism on his Westar-35.

Fennec, who, based on the fearful gaze he glances up at her with, was obviously the one to retrieve Crane, staring down at him with a daring look in her eyes, as if challenging him to try and escape this situation. Enzo stands on Crane's other side, blocking most of your view from the accused and his state. You also note that there is no such broom or fearful workers around. Ada.

“Mr. Fett-” He whimpers.

“Sod it.” Enzo growls, raising his weapon to shove against Crane’s neck, hushing his pleas instantly.

You observe the creature as best you can from your corner. You don’t want to peer out any further for fear of alerting Boba of your presence. He wasn’t human, but not terribly strange looking, a blue being, probably a humanoid, but with claws for nails that were certainly not cute. He’s on his knees, head bowed forward in obvious shame and fear, and hands tied firmly behind his back. This guy looks like he’s had a pretty bad couple of days, but you still can’t tell if you feel sorry for him or not.

Boba reaches Crane in the center of the room, and in a manner so menacing and calculated, that exerts a level of dominance that frightens even you, he crouches down on his heels, meeting Crane eye-level.

Boba slowly pulls his blaster out of its holster and lifts it to Crane’s ducked chin, using the barrel to tilt Crane’s face up to meet his.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel yourself running out of air.

“You didn’t know what Crane?” Boba repeats in a tone so hushed you could barely hear. “That you were selling information to an enemy of mine? That you were betraying the trust that I had put in you? That you stole my property, weapons, and money to give to people who wish to do me harm?”

You can’t help but to feel anxious and on edge. Knowing very well you are not supposed to be in here observing the scene in front of you. Wondering if at this point, you should even try to make your silent leave.

Crane, seemingly breathless, and having accepted his fate, nods in defeat. “I’m sorry Boba.” He whispers.

“You violated the terms of our agreement Crane.” Boba says, rising up and adjusting his belt. “I gave you opportunity after opportunity to make it right. I told you that this was your final chance. I even gave you the kriffing option to leave!” He finally shouts.

You watch his chest heaving in rage as he continues to stare down at a defeated Crane.

Boba scoffs, “What did you expect would happen?”

The crippled man on the floor does what you least expect, his gaze lazily lifting up to meet Boba’s as he chuckles carelessly, his laugh soon transforming into a truly mad howl.

He looks like an absolute maniac.

Your eyes furrow in extreme discomfort as you watch the dramatic change in scene, and despite the obvious upper-hand that Boba has, you feel the urge to stand between him and this disturbed creature.

“I-I guess,” Crane breathes out between spouts of laughter, “I held out hope. Hope that the famous Boba Fett, oh-” he croaks out another laugh, “I’m sorry, that the-the King of Tatooine, would finally meet his demise like he should have all those years ago in the sarlacc. Oh, Boba, we were all so pleased when we thought you’d met the maker that day, but you...you son of a nerf herder, you lived. And WHY should you get to live while the rest of us died off! TELL ME BOBA FETT! Because you know something? You of all beings do NOT get to cheat death. You think you’re better than the rest of us, trying to make amends for your crimes against nature? Against the galaxy?”

Crane leans his head forward nearly slamming it against the ground as he violently spits out, “-No, no, no, no old friend. You are the worst, most foul kind of scum to EVER have walked these lands. You are no worse than Jabba, don’t you kid yourself. And if I have played any part in your demise, I’ll have avenged my brothers who have died at your hand. Your end is coming Boba Fett! You will fall, and so will anyone who tries to prevent your end!” He carries on, doubling over while spitting out the most ludicrous threats between maniacal laughter.

A wave of pure fear plunges your heart, leaving a sickly feeling in your gut at his words. You don’t even realize that your longing to protect Boba has unconsciously pulled your body a few steps in his direction. Your error not evident to you until Raul moves from across the room, capturing your attention. You glance at him only to see the gaze of his visor already locked onto yours and his body making quick strides towards you.

“Boss-” Raul says hurriedly, but not before a shot rings out, causing you to jump and gasp, hands flying up in front of you in instinctual defense.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face Boba just as his gaze snaps in your direction. Even with the visor covering his face you can see he’s taken aback by your presence. His arm lowers quickly with his blaster, holstering it. Everyone’s attention seems to be on you.

Nobody moves for a moment, and still frozen, your gaze flicks down to the dead being, monster, who lays thankfully slain on the floor.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you avert your gaze back up to Boba, whose arm shifts nervously at his side.

“Ner- ner cyare.” He whispers, his tone strained and unlike you’ve ever heard before.

You take a step towards him, but don’t go much closer when Enzo shifts to exist as a barricade between you and the bloody mess to Boba’s side.

“What are you doing here?” He says, seeming to struggle with every word.

“I-I can’t remember.” You say after a beat, nervous again suddenly that you’ve poked your nose into business you told him you’d stay away from.

He stands frozen, panicked behind the harsh mask of his visor. His absolute worst fear being realised as you stand in the aftermath of an execution he himself carried out, right in front of your eyes.

Cruel. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Vile. Sadistic. Merciless.

All words he imagines were running though your sweet mind behind those wide eyes.

“Boba.” you utter, taking another step towards him, hesitating at first then succumbing to your hearts needs and taking up a speedier pace.

Your hands, which at some point started shaking, matching your more obviously quickened heart rate, raise up slowly to rest on his chest, and you swear he flinches at the contact.

“Cyare-” He mutters again, heart beating undoubtedly twice as fast as your own, fear and desperation clinging to the word, but he stops when your suddenly tear-filled eyes meet his gaze and you cling to the sides of his helm.

“Boba, are you okay?” You whisper frantically.

At that, he lets out a shaky exhale, body loosening and head tilting slightly at your words.

“What?” He asks, stunned.

“Are you alright?” You say, searching desperately through the dark visor of his helm for his warm, brown eyes.

“Am...am I okay?” He repeats.

“Yes I-I heard everything he said.” You stutter, head turning to meet the deranged creature's corpse covered in his own blood before Boba finally and frantically grabs a hold of your cheek to gently avert your gaze away from the scene. “He-he was absolutely maniacal.” You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I came but I-I heard shouting and A-Ada said something I can’t even remember what but I ended up here somehow and please don’t be mad but maker I just didn’t expect this-” you pause, tempted to glance at the corpse again but your cheek stays steadied in Boba’s hand, “-this monster to be here, threatening you and maker I know you’re alright, you’re always alright, but I desperately wanted to be standing between you and him to do anything to shield you from his threats I-”

“-Mesh’la.” Boba says, more of his confidence appearing in his voice and his movements but still weary nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You repeat desperately, cradling his helmet firmly in your hands again.

“I’m-yes. Yes mesh’la, I’m alright.” He stutters out, “Are-are you not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” You breathe out, taken aback. “Never, Boba. I-I could never fear you.”

Boba’s completely stilled in your arms. It feels like hours, your wide eyes looking at him with that familiar tenderness and devotion. You almost forget about the other’s, standing completely motionless around you, until Boba suddenly turns you and urges you forward with gentle hands on your waist, his form practically shielding you, quite fruitlessly, from the scene he guides you away from.

When you reach the hallway, he allows you to pull him next to you instead, as he opens the door to the closest chamber in sight and ushers you into it, closing the door behind you both.

The dimly lit room casts a warm glow on you both as you turn to face Boba, whose back is slumped up against the closed door. He heaves in slow, heavy, deep breaths.

You stand, unmoving, only a few inches from him. Gaze locked on his visor, you wear a concerned expression on your face, your own breaths silent but speedy as you wait for him to explain his behavior.

He finally says your name, both his palms rising in a pleading request for you to take them.

You place your hands gently in his, and he cradles them to his chest, looking down at them. So small and clean and innocent in his dark gloves that carry the stains of countless victims.

You hold your breath when you hear a choked sob escape from his modulator. Your mouth falls open a bit, eyes flitting down to where he stares at his hands caressing your own.

“Boba?” You mutter.

As if prompted by your voice, a more obvious sob falls from Boba’s lips, and his hands release your own, finding purchase on your hips as he falls to his knees before you.

You gasp out a breath of disbelief as you watch your partner, your warrior, your Boba, cling to your waist. Silent sobs shake his body as he hesitantly pulls his hand from you and places it under the lip of his helmet, tugging the armor off and letting it topple to the floor beside you.

Tears spill down Boba’s face, following the same trail left behind by the first few that managed to fall. You grasp his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks and erasing the tears that slid down his scarred skin.

Your vision blurs as your own eyes well with tears. “My love,” You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

His forehead tightens and brows furrow, making him look like he’s in pain. “Mesh’la I-” he stops to compose himself, his eyes looking down though you hold his face in your palms. “You- you do not fear me?”

“I could never Boba.” You assure him, you voice cracking as you say the words. “I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life. You...being with you, makes me feel safer than I ever thought I could feel.”

Your hand leaves his cheek to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead, and you bring your index finger under his chin, urging him to look up at you. “That creature, monster, whatever he was,” You start, “He was disloyal and foul and cruel. He wanted to hurt you. Which means he wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You’re my everything Boba.”

He stares up at you, vulnerable, more unsteady than you’ve ever seen him, but you go on, “I know who you are Boba Fett. I know that you were a bounty hunter. I know that now you rule the underworld and that sometimes you do unpleasant things. I know that you have regrets and I know that you have a past. I have one too. But most importantly, I know that you are a good man, worthy of my trust. And I will stand by your side every day for as long as you want me here, because I love you. My mind, my body, my soul,” you whisper, tears flowing down your own cheeks now, “-they’re yours Boba. All of me is yours.”

Tears well in his eyes again as you speak, but he doesn’t hide from you as he frowns against the tears threatening to spill again. “I love you so much.” He confesses almost fearfully.

You reach down to unlatch his hands from your waist, though you’re met with mild resistance, before you kneel to be level with him. You lean forward slowly and kiss him, passionately and desperately and devotedly. He cups your face in his hands, pressing you to him as close as he can before releasing you.

“You,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “You are too pure for this galaxy. An angel living amongst demons.”

“And I suppose you think you’re a demon?” You shake your head, smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Me?” He grins, “A fallen angel? Most definitely.”

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #jabbas palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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bebepac · 3 years

Text

The Double Date Mistake?

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt # 92 “I don’t think that was meant to go there.” will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 2 of The Meet: To catch up on what you’ve been missing of the Meet so far Please click: The Meet Masterlist

Original Post Date: 05/01/2021 at 3:15PM

The Book: TRR

The Pairing: Liam x F!OC (Liam x Jilian)

Word Count: 1948

Summary: Jilian goes on a double date with Bebe and meets Leo for the very first time. Jilian and Bebe share how they first met each other to the guys.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos. Profanity.

Leo and Liam belong to pixelberry, Jilian belongs to @queenjilian borrowed for the duration of this series. All others are my own to help us tell the story.

“And done. He has your number now Jili. Now fly my little birdies fly.”

She thought he would text right away but he didn’t. The whole way to Bebe’s apartment the twenty minute drive Jili’s phone was silent.

Bebe looked at Jili as she glanced at her phone. What the actual hell?

She texted Jilian.

“Bebe why the hell are you texting me? I’m sitting right next to you?”

“I was just making sure your phone was on.”

“I mean he’s still working Bebe. He can’t just drop everything and just start texting away.”

“The hell he can’t. What in the actual fuck is wrong with you bruh?” Bebe grumbled as she angrily typed on her phone.

“Wing Woman are you trying to crash this plane?”

“The mother hasn’t even taken off yet with you two trying to pilot it. I’m gonna need you to get your life together Jili.”

The driver pulled to a stop. “Damn I really wanted to see how this turned out.”

Bebe got out of the car in a huff.

“I’ll let you know.” Jili called out the window to her.

Jilian wasn’t going to let it stress her out. He was still at work. She knew her job got busy at times, and she couldn’t just sit on her phone and do nothing. As she was walking up the stairs to scan her door key fob, the phone rang.

It was a local number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Jilian. It’s Liam.”

“Hi Liam.”

“I apologize for not texting or calling sooner. Things got busy at work.”

“Oh I figured that was what happened.”

"Bebe is something else. I feel a little attacked. I can tell it's from a place of love though."

"She's my best friend Liam. My true sister from another mister."

"So it's safe to assume you are single?" Liam inquired.

"I am, and for you the same?"

"Yes Jilian I am. Is it forward of me to say maybe we can change that for each other. I would really like to see you again. I'm off next Friday would you be free then?"

Jilian sighed.

"Friday is my date night."

"Oh. I just assumed you being single you weren’t seeing anybody even casually."

"With Bebe. We restaurant hop. We're self proclaimed foodies.

Do you have any friends maybe we could double?”

“My brother, both him and Bebe have big personalities, I think they’d really get along. Think she would be okay with that?”

“Yeah I think I could convince her.”

They continued to talk, and about everything under the sun. Liam was funny and witty and kept her attention.

She began to realize how much she had in common with the charming Liam Rys.

She had cuddled into her bed under her covers laughing and chatting with him. She finally rolled over realizing it was almost dawn.

“Oh my God! Is that the sun?!?!?!” she shrieked, surprised into the phone.

“I’m so sorry Jilian I completely lost track of time.”

“I have to go, I have to be at work in forty five minutes!!!”

Jilian said her goodbyes to Liam and hurried to work.

Right when Jilian was sitting in her office reading over her chart for her first patient’s checkup, there was a delivery.

A large coffee drink had been delivered to her with a sweet gooey cinnamon bun.

“Gift for you Jilian Winchester.”

Liam was really sweet.

She texted him thank you.

He had let her know he had an extra espresso shot added to her coffee.

Liam was a lifesaver.

*^*^*^*^* The Double Date *^**^*^*^*

When Jili and Bebe got to the restaurant Liam and Leo were already seated at the table both stood to greet them.

Liam softly kissed Jili’s cheek.

Bebe glanced at Leo. He was cute, but he was probably about five inches shorter than Bebe, not to mention Bebe was wearing heels making her tower over Leo.

Liam changed the subject breaking the ice between everyone, and the conversation between the couples started flowing.

Jilian slipped in the subject of Liam and Leo honestly not looking much like each other.

“We’re half brothers, we have different mothers. But don’t get it twisted Bebe. I can scale you like Mount Everest. Taller women don’t intimidate me one bit.”

“Um….thank you for that blatant honesty…. Jili will you accompany me to the restroom please?”

“Excuse us for a moment.” Jili smiled politely.

“Absolutely not Jili!!!!!” Bebe was adamant when the door to the bathroom closed.

“Bebe I didn’t know! I swear when he said older brother, I was thinking he looked like him. You would think older brothers are taller, bigger, and wiser. He is funny though. You two do have similar personalities. Maybe try to focus on that Bee. Let’s just try to have a fun time. You don’t have to see Leo again. But I know I want to see Liam again. I like him.”

“You owe me big for this!!!”

Both women come back to the table. Their drink orders had arrived. Bebe takes a long sip on her drink.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Leo smiled. “A girl after my own heart.”

“How did you and Bebe meet Jilian?”

“We actually met in NOLA. We were both presenting at a medical conference. Bebe for the Pharma side, because she’s a pharmacist, and me for medical for being a nurse practitioner focused in the at risk population.”

Leo eyes flit to Bebe.

“So you’re a drug dealer?”

Bebe smiled. “ Legal Drug Dealer. Yep, that’s what I call myself. I’m slinging pills to pay the bills.”

“I can dig it.”

“We met the night before our conference began, in a bar.”

When Jilian walked into the bar she noticed her right away. There was a woman at the bar, drinking her drink telling what appeared to be a funny story that had multiple people’s attention. All were laughing with her. She had to be a local. Jili thought.

She had strings of beads around her neck.

“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked.

She looked at Bebe. “I want whatever she’s having.” Bebe was the life of the party.

“Well I did a little pre-gaming at the drive through daiquiri shop though.

But mostly Hurricanes. Get her a Hurricane Sal.”

The bartender winked at Bebe.

“Don’t skimp on the good stuff either!” She yelled out.

Jilian’s eyes widened when the bartender brought her the drink.

Bebe held up her glass to clink with Jilian’s glass.

“Laissez le bon temps rouler!!!!!” The crowd screamed in agreement at Bebe’s declaration.

“What?”

“LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!!!!!”

Jilian took a long drink of the cocktail. No wonder.

“Yep! You like it. I’m Bebe, what’s your name?”

“Jilian.”

“I’m gonna call you Jili. What brings you to NOLA?”

“Work, a conference.”

“Bleh you said the “W.” word. That’s not existing in my life right now. We’re here, we’re alive, no regrets Jili. Let your hair down and enjoy yourself. I mean literally. That bun is a buzz kill.”

Jili pulled the pins out of her hair shaking out her locks.

“So much better!!!! You’re a babe!!! See they’re already looking at you differently. We’re not interested though. Unless they’re buying more drinks.”

Jili glanced at the guys that were now looking in her direction.

“You’ve got a lot of bead necklaces going on.” Jili commented.

“There are two ways to get beads in NOLA. Buy them or earn them.”

Jili looked at Bebe and raised her eyebrow with a smile.

“Let me guess, your ass hasn’t spent a dime tonight.”

Bebe took a long sip of her hurricane.

“Nope. Not a single dime. Including alcohol. I'll tell you what Jili. Life’s too short. I’m not going to regret any of my choices. I spent a year in Costa Rica, living my life Pura Vida.”

“Pure Life.” Jilian smiled. Bebe was a carefree spirit, and people gravitated to her.

“We’re only here for a blink Jili. How do you want your story to be told?”

She decided to throw caution to the wind and party the night away with Bebe.

Jilian’s alarm went off the next morning. She was incredibly hung over as she tried to pull herself together.

She had a random memory of her and Bebe walking down Bourbon Street singing “Lean on Me” while they were linked arm and arm. The drunk leading the more drunk back to the hotel.

She smiled, straightening her black business suit. She was about to pull her hair up into her signature bun but decided to let her tresses fall free instead.

As she was getting checked into the convention she slipped her ID badge and program of speakers, herself among the list.

She heard her laugh. Jili whipped her head around and saw Bebe at the back of the line with two others. Bebe was wearing a bright pink business suit, and her shoes and clutch had the print of medications on it.

“The legal drug dealers have arrived!!!! Big Pharma in da house!!!!!!”

Jili laughed, shaking her head.

“That’s how we met Liam.”

“We found out later we lived near each other, and made plans to meet up. Been friends ever since. That was like six years ago.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask us how we met.” Leo asked.

“I assume you are brothers…. You met… at birth?”

Bebe shook her head at Leo.

Everyone was calm after not to mention the alcohol free flowing. They headed to a lounge after dinner, called Blue Notes. The music there was full of soul and blues.

The drinks continued. The music there stirred the soul.

“May I have this dance?” Jili nodded, taking Liam’s hand. He held her close.

Leo eyed Bebe. “You know, I have always been one to have a huge case of FOMO. So you and me let’s hit the dance floor too.”

Bebe downed her drink in one swallow. “Why the hell not.”

They walked out to the dance floor. With Bebe’s high heels Leo was chest level to her. He pulled her close resting his head on her bosom.

“Um….so we’re doing this… okay…” Bebe looked surprised but she was smiling.

Liam laughed softly when he glanced in their direction.

“I don’t think that was meant to go there.”

“The height difference honestly never crossed my mind Jilian. Things seemed really awkward for them for a bit, for more so Bebe. Not so awkward now.”

Bebe and Leo were looking at each other laughing.

“You know this is never going to happen Leo Rys.”

“A man can dream. Well….It could happen for the night. I can tell you’re curious. Let me tickle your fancy tonight.”

Bebe laughed harder at him. “You don’t give up do you Leo?”

“Nope because I get what I want.”

“If nothing else Jilian, I think they will at least be friends from this, if nothing romantic happens.”

The next morning Liam was cooking breakfast when Bebe walked out of Leo’s room. Leo’s sweatpants looked like capris on Bebe.

“Good Morning Bebe. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sure.”

Leo walked out of the room a few minutes later.

Liam smiled looking at the two of them.

“Breakfast Leo?”

“I already ate.” Leo winked at Bebe.

Bebe choked on her orange juice.

“Oh you were talking about bacon and eggs, sure.”

Nope not at all awkward at all. Liam thought as he fixed plates for himself Leo and Bebe.

Bebe was climbing in her ride share when her phone rang.

“Bebe… Liam just told me you had breakfast with him and Leo… at his apartment. You spent the night with Leo?”

“Leo was right, Jili. Not all of him is fun sized.”

Tags in the comments !!!!

#bebepac writes #the meet #before the greek meat #trr au #trr liam #trr jilian #trr bebe #trr leo #wacky drabbles #choices fic writers creations

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wayward-mikaelson · 3 years

Text

Shallow (Dean Winchester x F! Reader)

Word Count: 4549

About: Set during S15 finale, so SPOILERS. You and the boys pick up a vamp hunt while at a Pie Festival. The hunt ends tragically.

Characters: Dean, Sam, Jody, Cas, Young Dean (s15), Lyla (OC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader (Anyone can obviously read it)

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Angst, Character Death, Depression (mentioned), Time Jumps.

A/N: It's been while since I did a SPN fic! Writing it made me miss the them more!

A/N 2: This might need some tissues.

***This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd, so please read at your discretion. This work is cross posted on other sites. Please don't copy and paste my work; I work too hard on all my stories. You my copy the link to share or you may reblog. I am NOT taking requests at this time. Feedback is welcomed!***

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Supernatural Tags: @lyarr24

Dean/Jensen Tags: @akshi8278 @sandlee44 @squirrelnotsam @thougts-and-funnies

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You laid there, feeling the cool body paint move around on your back. Dean’s gentle fingers tracing over your back could put you to sleep. This had been the most calm and rest you had in the last couple years. You deserved it! Hell, Dean deserved it more than you. He had been fighting longer than you ever had.

Dean and you crossed paths six years ago during a demon hunt. It really was your hunt and you wouldn’t want to admit it, but you really weren’t doing too hot. You were extremely lucky the Winchester’s stumbled across your hunt when they did. If it weren’t for them you’d probably be some demon's meat suit or doing the conga in hell with the devil himself. That was until you learned of where the devil really was a few years later.

You and Dean rarely got along over the first few years. The two of you always butted heads and argued during most hunts. It annoyed Sam so much that he actually told the two of you “Sleep together already! I can’t take the sexual tension and the bickering any longer.”

It didn’t take longer after that for Dean to grab your face and kiss you.

“Are you done back there?” You tried to twist a bit but a hand gently pushed you back into place.

“Nope,” Dean enunciated the word. “Almost. This is going to look epic though.”

“Doesn’t need to be the Sistine Chapel,” You buried your face back into the pillow.

Dean gasped. “Excuse me? Your back deserves a painting better than the Sistine Chapel. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give you the best?”

You chuckled and mumbled something into the pillow.

Once Dean was finished, he reached for his phone and took a picture of it. “There we go,” you heard the smile in his voice. “Now that’s what I like to call the Sistine Back. Here, take a look.”

You lifted your head to see Dean lay on his side next to you. A huge smile painted his face as he showed the screen of his phone to you. What you saw, had you laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, Dean,” you breathed in between laughs. “This is better than the Sistine Chapel. I love it!”

Dean’s face lit up so bright, it could have brightened up the dimly lit room. “Yeah? Maybe I should get this printed out big enough to fit the ceiling in here.”

You shook your head as laughter took over your body once again. “Oh, God, yes! We can stare at the hamburger and apple pie every night we have sex.”

“Yeah,” Dean pushed you onto your back, getting the body paints onto the sheets under you. He plants a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, making you shiver through your entire body. Dean began to kiss down your body until he got to your belly. He looked up at you with those bright green eyes. Instead of slinking down further, he crept back up and hovered over you. Those eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. This man has shown you more love than any other man, including your father, has ever shown you. “I love you, don’t you ever forget that.”

“Never,” you reached up, wrapped your arms around his necK and pulled him to your lips. “I have a surprise for you.” Twisted to the side and pulled a piece of paper out of the side table drawer and handed it to him. You watched as his face lit up and looked between the paper and your face.

“A pie festival?” The excitement was clear as day in his voice. “Oh, Sweetheart, we are so going to this thing. The three of us. A huge family road trip.”

And that’s what you all did.

It was the best trip you all had. Dean tried every single pie he could get his hands on. You and Sam watched as he ate each slice. Looking like he was in heaven with each bite he took. It made you happy to see him so at peace not worrying about anything. There’s no end of the world evil to take care of. There hadn’t been for awhile.

LIfe seemed to be normal.

“You gotta try this one,” Dean sat next to you with another big box full of piece samples. He gave you a fork and pushed a pie towards you. “Don’t give it that look. It’s a honey apple pie with a tad bit of rosemary. So much sweeter than normal apple pie.” You took a small bite and Dean was right. It was sweeter.

“Not going to lie, that was pretty good,” you went for another bite.

“So, guys, get this,” Sam sat down with a newspaper in hand. Can’t be a fun trip unless Sam had his paper to look at. “There was a kidnapping last night. Father murdered and the mother’s tongue cut out. Both kids are missing.”

“Okay, doesn’t sound like our kind of thing,” you reach for the paper. “Maybe leave it to the local PD?” Suddenly, Dean took the paper from your hands and stared at the picture to the article of the tragic story.

“I’ve seen this before,” he mumbled. “Do we still have Dad’s journal?”

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked.

“I think I’ve seen these masks before.”

And Dean. Once he found the drawing John Winchester drew years ago, they matched the ones in the paper. You guys were looking at a pair of masked vamps and you guys were pretty much the closest hunters to take care of it.

“It’s one little hunt,” Dean shrugged as he checked out the weapons in the trunk. “Why don’t we take care of it and then head on home.”

It didn’t take long for you guys to locate the missing children. They were being held in an old barn on the outskirts of town. There three of you, so it shouldn’t be too hard to fight a small nest of vamps. You guys have taken out larger nests in the past.

“Come on, just this once?” Dean had asked. You peaked your head around the trunk and saw Dean holding up ninja stars with a huge smile on his face. Sam on the other hand just stared at him and shook his head.

“Not this time, man.”

Dean put the stars away while mumblings about how Sam was no fun. You smiled and patted him on the back and told him that there will be another time to use them. Dean gumbled some more and you had to remind him that you book a separate motel room away from Sam and that you brought some fun toys.

Even his favorite one to use on you.

Getting into the barn was too easy. Sam and Dean fought the two vamps that jumped out, making it easier for you to grab the two kids and get them to the impala. Once you strapped them in, you were making your way towards the driver side, you were tackled by one of the vamps.

The two of you wrestled in the dirt until you were able to break away and grab hold of your machete. You get to your feet and are tackled again, this time the vamp pins you firmly to the ground. The vamp removed his mask and bit down onto your neck, making you cry out. When the vamp pulled back, you took that small opening to headbutt him and kick in in the groin. You rolled away and quickly stood up and swung your machete. The vamp's head rolled onto the ground. You looked up and saw the terrified look on the children’s face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you told them when you opened their door. You pulled the blankets over them and gave them some water and the sandwiches you made. “Drink and eat, we’ll get you home soon.” You heard it go quiet in the barn. It was too quiet and something in you told you something wasn’t right. “Hang on tight,” you closed the door and ran inside the barn.

What you saw, it almost knocked the wind out of you. There, Dean’s back was pressed firmly against a wooden pillar with a pained expression on his face. You ran up to him and looked at the damage and felt the tears fall as your heart begin to break.

Dean wasn’t going to come back from this.

“Dean,” you whispered as you met his eyes.

“I know, sweetheart,” He winced as he spoke. You saw his breathing get deeper and more shallow. “I love you. Don’t you forget that when you find someone else.” You squeezed your eyes shut because there was nothing you can do or say that will change the outcome of this. You felt Dean’s hand on your face pulling you towards his lips.

This kiss wasn’t like past kisses. It was firm and passionate and slow. He wanted you to remember this kiss for years to come. “Until we meet again,” Dean whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Take care of her, Sam,” Dean added.

Everything that followed after that, felt like a dream. Your body felt heavy as you drove the kids to the nearest police station with some story about how you found them. The man that you loved, the man who you spent many nights talking about some kind of future, that man was now gone.

When you got back to the barn, the sun was just beginning to rise. You saw Sam sitting next to a covered up heap and the realization, again, hit you hard. The cover heap was Dean’s body. You stopped the impala and got out. Sam looked up at you with red eyes. You knew he had been crying hard. Probably as hard as you had. Sam got up and effortlessly picked up Dean and placed him in the back seat.

The whole way back to the bunker, neither of you spoke. You just took turns crying and driving. Stopping on the side of the road and just letting the other scream out in whatever pain the two of you had left in your bodies.

Back at the bunker, the two of you worked and got a pyre ready. When it was ready, you watched as Sam carried his big brother's body and gently placed it on the wooden display. You stood, with Miracle standing next to you. She had been whimpering off and on. She knew Dean was up there. You knelt down and let her nuzzle you while you let some more tears fall. Miracle was all you had left of Dean now.

Sam had some trouble lighting the pyre so you went up and helped it light it. Soon, the pyre and Dean were on fire. Then the two of you stared at it until it was nothing but ash.

***

You sat in Jody’s spare room while Miracle laid at your feet. You still wished all of this were a dream because neither you nor Sam, could adjust to the new reality that Dean was gone. So the two of you packed up what you could and left the bunker.

You guys drove until you were on Jody’s doorstep at midnight. She knew something was wrong when she looked deeply into your faces and asked where Dean was. When she saw the tears in your guys eyes, her whole face fell. She pulled the two of you into the tightest hug and held on tightly as the three of you cried silently.

A gentle knock on your door startled you. You got up and answered the door and saw Sam standing there. He was dressed in fresh clothes holding two cups of coffee.

“Are you, uh, doing okay?” Sam asked as you took the coffee from him. “I know it’s a stupid question but…”

You gave a pained smile, “I know I’ll be okay, but I feel like I won’t be okay. I’ve tried praying to Jack but I’m pretty sure he’s busy fixing Heaven.” You recount the hours you cried out to Jack about the loss of Dean. You cried about how you wanted him back. You cried about how you were supposed to move on from an epic love like that. You cried about how you just missed him and needed him to make it better.

“Same here,” Sam ran his hands through his hair. “I’m going to go look at places, apartments, that we can share and see what kind of jobs we can get. Do you want to come along?”

You took a deep breath and looked at the ground. “Not today, maybe tomorrow. I really want to spend time alone and process these last couple days.”

“Okay, no worries,” Sam nodded his head. “I’ll see you when I come back.”

“Okay.”

You waited until Sam had been gone for an hour to pack your bags again and head down stairs. You were in the process of opening the door when you heard someone behind you. Turning around you saw Jody standing in the entryway with you. She didn’t say anything, she just pulled a pair of keys out of the bowl next to her and handed them to you.

“Call me when you're safe,” she placed a hand on your face and gave you a smile. “I can’t bear to lose another kid.” A few tears slipped down her cheek.

Agreeing to call her, you slipped out the door and to the car Jody let you use. You got in and made sure Miracle was settled in the passenger seat. Then you were on your way out of town. You weren’t sure where you would go but you knew you needed to get far away from everything.

You needed to start fresh somewhere.

***

Years have passed and you’ve found that the pain of losing Dean has lessened. You’re able to have random memories of him without crying or hours and days on end. You were able to wake up without feeling like there was a hole on your chest. You were finally able to tell Sam why you ran after you were states away. You promised him it would be for a bit and that you’ll contact him.

Sadly, that day never came.

Two months after losing Dean you began to feel sick. You weren’t sure if it was the stress of losing Dean or starting a new life or both. So, off you went to the doctors and there you sat on the papery bed feeling like you were hit by a truck. The words that the doctor told you, they echoed around in your head.

“And the father?” the words were almost like a whisper in your already loud and spinning head.

“What?” you shook your head.

“That father?” the doctor repeated. “What do you know about the father?”

You took a deep breath and looked at the ground. “Um, he’s not in the picture.” Your voice had been quiet. Your heart felt like it had been breaking all over again. Part of you couldn’t believe this was happening. Part of you believed it, Dean and you were never really safe when it came to sex.

“One night stand? We do have options,” the doctor began to say.

“No no,” you shook your head. “The father, he’s um...he passed away.” You choked on the words. Hearing it out loud, made his death all the more real.

“My apologies,” The doctor whispered.

You took the pamphlets and walked out of the doctors. You didn’t know what you would do. This was all so new and all so painful at the same time. Dean was supposed to be here with you whenever this happened. In the end, you chose to keep the baby. You called Jody and Donna and told them, making them both promise not to tell Sam.

Over the years, you heard about Sam through Donna and Jody. He got married and had a kid of his own. You wanted to reach out but at this point it had been years and the two of you had settled into non hunting life. It wouldn’t be fair to disrupt it.

As more years passed, you saw Lyla become more and more like her father. She had his green eyes and his smile. She was smart and would get her hands on just about anything and that made you wonder, where did she get that from. Smart brains ran on both sides. Maybe something from Sam or something from your father. She loved pie just as much as Dean, and you’d take her to the pie festival every year.

As Lyla grew, she asked about Dean from time to time and you told her what you could. You also told her that when she turned into an adult you would tell her more, that telling her while she was young and child wouldn’t be safe or wise. In the meantime, you told her all the things asked about.

“What was Daddy’s favorite food?”

“What did Daddy like to do for fun?”

“What was Daddy’s favorite color?”

“Did Daddy have a favorite movie?”

The questions were endless, but you loved to answer them. Then one day, Lyla came up to you one morning, her dark hair looking like a bird's nest. Her face was beaming with happiness.

“Mommy,” Lyla’s voice was an octave higher. “Did you know, Daddy is in Heaven?”

You almost choked on your coffee. “What, Sweetie?”

“Daddy, he’s in Heaven. An angel told me,” she walked off and grabbed her stuffed chicken, one that she named Chickie Meow Meow, and hugged it tightly.

“What angel?” you asked. You got up and began to check all your warding, the ones that kept the bad creatures out. Everything seemed to be in place, even that salt that still blended in with your window panels. Then you checked to see if Lyla still wore the anti-possesion charm necklace you had made for her. She still did. “What did the angel look like?”

“He wore a funny brown jacket,” she answered. “He said his name was Cas. He wanted me to tell you that Daddy is fine. That they are looking over us.” You pulled Lyla into a hug and let some tears fall.

***

You walked into that old abandoned barn. You had left Lyla with Jody for the weekend. You sat down and placed all that you needed to summon Cas. You didn’t want to pray, you knew Cas all too well, he probably wouldn’t show up. But if you summoned him, you knew he had no choice but to come and see you. You lit the match and dropped it into the bowl and waited.

“Y/N” The deep, rough voice said your name.

You turned to see Cas standing there. In the same thing that he had been taken away in. But it was cleaner. “How are you alive?” you asked outright.

“Jack, he brought me back,” Cas took a few steps closer to you. “You know you could have prayed and I would have come.”

“But would you?” you gave the angel a smirk and raised your eyebrows.

“I did it for Lyla,” Cas looked into your eyes. “She prayed about Dean and wanted to know if he was in Heaven. I thought it best that it was me to come to her.”

You looked down, you couldn’t bear to look into the angel's blue eyes. You always assumed things and that always backfired and kicked you in the ass. “Then why didn’t you come to me when I cried out to you or to Jack?”

“I did,” Cas closed the distance and placed a hand under your chin and lifted your face to meet his eyes. “Each night that you cried yourself to sleep, I was there sitting at the foot of your bed. Each night that you drank yourself to sleep, before you found out you were pregnant, I sat there and rubbed your back the way Dean told me too. Then when you were in that delivery room all by yourself, I was there to make sure things went smoothly. Then when you were sleeping, I memorized everything there was about Lyla. I have watched over the two of you these last nine years. Dean would be so proud of how far you have come.”

You stood there and cried silently as Cas spoke. “Cas,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I can’t be on Earth as much, Jack and I are still fixing Heaven but I can tell you that Dean is waiting for you.” Cas moved his hand to your shoulder. “I have to go, but I was told to tell you, I love you by Dean.”

Then you were alone.

***

Twelve year passed and you’re helping Lyla with a college event. She had just turned twenty-one and was nearly done with her bachelor degree. At this point, she knew all that there was to Dean. She knew he was a hunter, that he saved the world countless times, that he had some faults, and so on.

Lyla knew of what goes bump in the night. She’s read every note and the journal you kept during the time you had been hunting. When she asked if Dean kept one, you had told her that he didn’t. That he used his fathers and you weren’t sure where that ended up. Lyla even went above and got whatever protection tattoos down her spine.

So, while you’re helping Lyla you had a boy, about nineteen years old come up to the booth and look around. He looked familiar to you. He wore a long sleeve flannel, that was probably why. Sam and Dean always wore flannel. That was probably why and it made you miss the younger Winchester. You should have kept in contact with him or at least told him of Lyla.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out to you.

You turned around and your heart just about fell from your chest. There standing with grey hair, was Sam Winchester. He hadn’t changed too much except for the hair and the fact that he wore glasses. He still looked like the Sam Winchester you knew all those years ago.

“Sam?” You crossed your arms.

“The one and only,” he smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Before you could answer, Lyla came up to you. “Mom, we’re going to need some more pamphlets, we’re just about out.” You turned to Lyla who saw Sam. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay, take my keys and you can go print some out at the UPS down the street,” You motioned to your bag.

After Lyla had left you turned back to Sam who had watched her the whole time. It was like he knew. “So, you have a kid too?” You heard the tone in his voice. Lyla looked so much like Dean these days, you knew someone from your past was bound to notice. Sam most of all.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly. “Her name’s Lyla.”

“Cool, that’s great you found someone to populate the Earth with,” Sam gestured towards you. That tone he held was still there. The look in his eyes was the very same one he used on you when he called you out on yours and Dean’s sexual tension.

“You know, don’t you?” you lowered your arms.

“She looks a lot like Dean,” Sam whispered. “Is that why you ran? Is that why I never heard from you?” You stared at Sam and tried to hold back your emotions. “Dean’s final words were to take care of you. I failed at that when you ran.”

“You failed when you didn’t come and look for me,” you lashed out. “I thought you would have looked for me despite everything I told you. You should have found me. Then I find out through Jody your married and have a kid, I thought it best not to mess up what you got for yourself.”

Sam stared at you and nodded. “I should have and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered and looked around. The boy in the flannel was still there. Then it hit you. “Is that?”

“My son,” Sam’s face lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen it. “His name is Dean.”

For the next five years you kept in touch with Sam. You guys spent holidays and birthdays with each other. That was, until you got sick and the doctors couldn’t help you. So, in your hospital room, Sam sat beside you. He wasn’t doing too well either, but he held your hand and smiled at you.

“Tell Dean I said hi,” were the last words you heard.

***

When your eyes opened again, you were sitting on a bench. Around you was a field of just plain old grass and a few trees. You knew this place all too well. You stood and realized you were back in your younger body. Having that kind of movement again, it was amazing. You began to walk around, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. It all felt nice and it made you smile.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

You spun around at the familiar sound. There he stood, looking handsome as ever in his jacket and leaning against the Impala with that heartwarming smile. “Dean,” you said his name like he hadn’t been dead for almost three decades.

Dean pushed himself off the impala and closed the distance between the two of you. He placed a hand on your cheek and brushed his calloused thumb over it. You closed your eyes and took in the touch. “You know, time is different up here. It doesn’t feel like it’s been twenty-six years.” Then he pressed his lips to yours and the feel almost knocked you off your feet.

“Are we allowed to kiss in Heaven?” you pulled away from him.

“I don’t think Jack minds,” Dean smiled and gathered you into his arms and pressed his lips more firmly to his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against him. “Wanna go for a ride?” He asked when he pulled away.

“Sure, I missed this beauty.” You ran your hand along the impala and just as you were about to get in, Dean staring at you caught your eye. “What?”

“Cas says you had a baby,” Dean crossed his arms on top of the hood. “I have to ask…”

You smiled at him and leaned on the hood as well. “She’s yours and she’s incredible. Loves pie just like her daddy. I thought Cas would’ve told you.”

“Time moves differently up here,” Dean repeated what he said earlier. “What’s her name?”

“Lyla,” you smiled. “Lyla Winchester.”

“I wish I got to know her,” Dean spoke softly.

“You will,” you got into the passenger side. “I can tell you all you want about her.”

Dean followed you into the impala. “I don’t have to worry about some random dude coming here and claiming you as his wife or something?”

“Nope,” You sat back. “Now drive or I’ll start walking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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