#I'm working on ch 14 I promise!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | three

When you and Yoongi visit his family in Daegu, and he introduces you as his friend, it rubs you all kind of wrong. But what are you even to each other, other than best friends with benefits?

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Status: completed! → Word Count: 11,9K → Warnings: slight angst, ‘friendzoned’, smut; protected penetration, fingering, nipple and breast play, handjob, dirty talk. Yoongi’s sister also deserves a warning 🫢 → Author’s note: We’re halfway there 🎉 I actually wanted to put more stuff into this chapter, but I’m striving for 10-12K word each chapter, so I had to leave some things out and put it in the next chapter, because the smut scene got too long 🫢 I hope you won’t mind, and I promise there will be more smut coming 😇 + I'm currently editing chapter 4 and going to write ch 5+6 as soon as I can! I'm currently going to be moving (we bought our first house wuhu!), so I'll be moving the next 14 days I think. So I don't know how much writing I'll get done, but I hope to get some time here and there. Also - what are you thinking about JK's 3D????? → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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Saying goodbye to Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung was like ripping a piece of your heart out, but the promise of a reunion after your vacation kept your spirits high. 

Now, as you drive with Yoongi to a campsite on the outskirts of Daegu, your excitement bubbles up. The campsite seems like a hidden gem with its inviting lake, and the surrounding lush greenery. 

You can hardly wait to explore this tranquil haven and create new memories with Yoongi.

As the midday sun bathes the campsite in a warm glow, you and Yoongi decide to make your way to the nearby lake. The tranquil waters beckon, promising a peaceful escape from the world. 

You set up your stools by the shore, ready to indulge in some quality relaxation. While you lose yourself in the pages of your book, Yoongi immerses himself in his music, creating a harmonious blend of serenity and melody. 

The hours slip away like gentle waves, leaving you feeling connected to nature and each other in this idyllic setting. As your stomach playfully rumbles, a symphony of hunger, Yoongi gallantly offers to take charge of dinner. 

With a charming smile, he heads back to Holly to kindle a campfire and whip up a delightful meal. The crackling flames and the aroma of cooking food fill the air, creating an enticing atmosphere. 

You, however, are completely engrossed in your book, the words transporting you to another world, oblivious to the tantalizing scents and sounds of Yoongi’s culinary adventure.

Each bite of Yoongi’s mouthwatering meal is a taste of perfection, a savory delight that lingers on your taste buds. You savor every mouthful, fully aware that you’ll miss these delectable moments once your vacation comes to an end. 

As the two of you dine, conversation flows naturally, going from plans in Daegu to the exciting prospect of meeting Yoongi’s family. The anticipation of meeting his family excites you, but also gives you some anxiety, but overall you eagerly look forward to the connection you’ll make with them and you’re sure they are very nice people.

Under the moonlit sky, you find yourself nestled in Yoongi’s warm embrace once more. 

His arms wrap around you protectively, creating an intimate cocoon where the world outside fades into insignificance. The sensation of his breath against your neck, his heart beating in sync with yours, makes this moment feel like an enchanting dream. 

Your heart flutters with each whispered word of affection, and as sleep starts to claim you both, you can’t help but smile, knowing that these tender nights will be cherished memories to hold onto.

The first light of dawn bathes Holly in a soft, gentle glow, revealing Yoongi’s peaceful expression as he stirs awake. 

But what truly captures his attention is the unmistakable hardness pressing against him, demanding attention and relief. 

It’s the hardest he has ever been in the morning. 

He can’t help but chuckle at the idea that your subconscious moans have left such a powerful effect on him. Gently, he tries to shift and extricate himself without waking you, although the bulge in his boxers isn’t making it easy. 

As he carefully moves, he can’t help but wonder how you might react if you were to wake up and discover the delightful predicament you’ve caused him. 

He decides to settle back into your embrace.

Yoongi’s fingers dance softly across your face, tracing the contours of your features as you gradually rouse from your slumber. His touch is as delicate as a whispered promise, making your sleepy senses come alive. 

You’re met with the sensation of his warm breath, brushing against your nape like a secret he’s sharing only with you. As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is the affectionate glint in his gaze. It’s a look that tells you he’s been awake for a while, lost in the quiet moments of the morning, his thoughts consumed by you. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but offer him a soft sleepy smile in return.

You let out a contented hum as you snuggle further into his embrace, feeling the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against your backside. A mischievous grin curls onto your lips, and you can’t resist the urge to tease him gently. 

“Someone is certainly eager this morning,” you playfully murmur, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. Your laughter dances through the air like a sweet melody, intertwining with the warmth of the morning sun.

His warm breath tickles your ear as he continues to nuzzle you, and you feel his dick pressing more firmly against you, “You’re so damn irresistible, and your sleep moaning is such a turn on.”

His words, whispered with a hint of desire, send a thrilling shiver down your spine. You can’t help but let out a sultry chuckle in response. “Well, I guess I can’t control what I do in my sleep,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful seduction. 

The intimate atmosphere between you two grows more charged with each passing moment, and you can feel the anticipation building in the air.

“I want you, babe,” his seductive whisper in your ear ignites a fiery desire within you, and you find it increasingly difficult to control your own desires. You shift beneath his touch, your body responding eagerly to his proximity, and the rush of arousal intensifies, making your senses tingle with anticipation.

“I want you too Yoongi.” 

You reply in a breathy, lustful tone, unable to resist the temptation that he presents. As you confess your desire, you can see the hunger in his eyes intensify. You turn to face him fully, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. 

With a playful smile, you close the gap between you, pressing your mouth against his in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. His lips are soft and plush, and the electric sensation that courses through your body is undeniable. 

His hands start to explore your body, tracing the curves and contours with a gentle yet fervent touch, as your kiss deepens, growing more passionate with each passing moment.

With a primal growl, Yoongi shifts his position, rising up on his hands and knees, his body poised above yours. 

His dark, blown-out pupils are a testament to the intense desire that courses through him, like a tempestuous storm ready to consume everything in its path. You can feel the raw power radiating from him, and it sends shivers of anticipation down your spine. 

His every movement is deliberate and calculated, his gaze locked onto yours with an unwavering intensity. In this moment, you are captivated by the sheer magnetism of his presence, and the air crackles with an electrifying tension.

“You’re so hot,” as your fingers thread through his soft long hair, you pull his irresistibly handsome face down towards yours, the urgency of your desire evident in your touch. 

Your lips meet in a searing kiss, a passionate collision of pent-up emotions and longing. The heat between you intensifies, and your tongues engage in a tantalizing dance, their movements mirroring the unspoken desires that have simmered beneath the surface for far too long.

Each kiss is a revelation, a testament to the magnetic pull you share, igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second. Every brush of his lips against yours sends sparks of electricity coursing through your veins, and you can’t help but moan into this mouth, your body arching towards his in a silent plea for more.

The exquisite friction between your clothed core and this throbbing dick sends shockwaves of desire through your body. 

Your arousal has reached a fever pitch, and the anticipation is driving you to the brink of madness. With every tantalizing brush of his hard cock against your wetness, your craving for him intensifies to the point where you feel like you might lose all control. 

Each moment feels like an eternity as you yearn for him to be inside you, to fill the aching void that only he can satisfy. The tension in the air crackles with unrestrained lust, and you can hardly contain the feral need building within you. 

Your body, slick and eager, practically begs for his touch.

Your fingers glide sensually across his pectorals, reveling in his contours of his well-defined chest. The contrast between the hard planes of his chest and the inviting softness of his tummy is a tantalizing paradox, a testament to his rugged yet gentle allure. His physique, sculpted by his profession, holds an alluring mix of strength and vulnerability, and you find yourself drawn to the balance of power and tenderness that he embodies.

As your fingertips explore every inch of his skin, you savor the texture of his body, delighting in the warmth and smoothness of his flesh. 

With a passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless, you convey your burning desire. Breaking the kiss, you lock eyes with him, your voice dripping with irresistible temptation. 

“If you don’t fuck me soon,” you purr, batting your eyelashes teasingly at him, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

Your words hang in the air like a sultry promise, igniting a fierce hunger in his eyes. 

“Patience, babe,” he chuckles, his fingers leaving a fiery trail down your body, tracing the contours of your curves beneath his oversized shirt and your snug shorts you’re wearing.

His touch is a delicate torment, making your skin and your breath hitch. Each caress ignites a new wave of longing within you, intensifying your craving for him.

“I don’t get how you’re this patient,” you tease, your voice dripping with desire. “I’ve never seen a dick that incredibly hard before. It seems really painful. Don’t you want release?” as you speak, you seductively buck your hips, grinding your crotch against his, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from his.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs casually, his eyes locked on your body. 

He tugs at your shirt, grabbing the edges and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. As he unveils your soft breasts, he licks his lips in pleasure, his gaze fixed on the sight before him. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his fingers lightly caressing the sides of your breasts.

“Damn, you’re so pretty,” he breathes, a hint of awe in his voice as he gives them a gentle squeeze. His desire is evident as he continues, “I didn’t get to appreciate these beautiful tits yesterday.” 

With those words, he lowers his head to one of your breasts, closing his mouth around a nipple that he sucks with a tantalizing rhythm, coaxing it to alertness. His actions send shivers down your spine, and your body quivers in response to his skillful touch.

Your moan escapes your lips in a breathy, wanton melody as he continues his relentless assault on your sensitive breasts. His skilled mouth lavishes attention on one nipple while his hand works its magic on the other, pulling and pinching the now hard bud. 

Each sensation sources through you like an electric shock, sending waves of pleasure radiating from your chest to every corner of your body. 

“Fuck!” 

Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your heart racing in tandem with the fervent rhythm building inside you. Each touch, each kiss, each tug of his lips and flick of his tongue sends bolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. The intensity of the sensations threatens to consume you as your desire ignites into an uncontrollable blaze. 

“Yoongi,” you moan his name like a prayer, your voice heavy with longing and urgency. Every fiber of your being is ablaze with a potent cocktail of yearning, pleasure and anticipation. You can hardly contain the rising tide of ecstasy that threatens to drown you in its overwhelming embrace.

His relentless devotion to your pleasure is nothing short of intoxicating. As he shifts his focus to your neglected breast, his lips and tongue work their magic, creating a symphony of sensations that reverberate through your entire body. The contrast between the warm, wet caresses of his mouth and the delicious friction of his fingers on your other nipple sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy. 

You arch your back, offering yourself to him, a willing canvas for his passionate artistry. Each flicker of his tongue, each gentle bite, each tantalizing suckle draws you closer to the precipice of pleasure. Your fingers clutch at the sheets, desperately seeking purchase.

Every nerve in your body is humming with electric desire, and your senses are heightened to an almost unbearable level. Yoongi’s skilled ministrations on your breasts send waves of pleasure crashing through you, but you yearn for more, aching for the ultimate release that’s tantalizingly close.

“I’m close!” 

Your words tumble from your lips in breathless desperation, your voice a symphony of need as you cling to the precipice of ecstasy.

“Touch yourself, babe.” 

His husky command sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as your fingers hesitates for a moment. 

The van seems to pulse with electric anticipation as you slide your trembling hand between your thighs, your fingers finding their way to the wet heat between your legs. The room is charged with an electrifying tension as your right hand ventures lower, sliding beneath your shorts and panties. 

A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine as your fingertips make contact with your already slick and throbbing clit. 

“Ah!” With a sharp intake of breath, you begin to caress the sensitive bud in slow, tantalizing circles. Each touch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, drawing out sweet sighs and breathy moans from your trembling lips.

As you continue your fervent exploration, Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on you, a mix of desire and adoration in his eyes. 

Every gasp, every whimper, every sultry moan that escapes your lips is like music to his ears, stoking the flames of his desire. He watches your pleasure intensify, your body aching and writhing in response to your own ministrations. 

The sight of you on the precipice of ecstasy, with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, ignited a primal hunger within him. His own arousal throbs painfully, but despite the overwhelming urge to claim you, he exercises restraints, driven by an unspoken desire to ensure your pleasure takes precedence. He wants nothing more than to witness you unravel in the most euphoric release, to be the catalyst of your satisfaction.

With each passing moment, he can sense your climax drawing nearer. Your breath quickens, your movement becomes more frantic, and your fingers work their magic with a fervor that borders on desperation.

The crescendo of pleasure builds within you, a whirlwind of sensations that threatens to consume your very being. 

Your fingers dance over your engorged clit, tracing patterns of desire that mirror the fervent rhythm of your heart. It’s a symphony of ecstasy, each note played in tandem with Yoongi’s fervent ministrations on your sensitive nipples.

His talented mouth explores the peaks of your breasts with an unrelenting hunger, switching between them as if he’s trying to draw forth every once of pleasure within you. His lips, tongue, and teeth create a symphony of sensations on your sensitive nubs, a symphony that resonates through your body, leaving you trembling on the precipice of bliss.

Then it happens. 

The final, exquisite note in your symphony of pleasure. 

It crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in a sea of euphoria. 

Your body aches, toes curling, and a guttural moan tears from your lips, punctuated by the sweetest sound of Yoongi’s name.

Every fiber of your being seems to vibrate with pleasure, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It’s a rapture that paints your vision with vibrant colors and sends fireworks exploding behind your closed eyelids. In that instant, you’re entirely lost in the throes of your orgasm, a captive of the intense pleasure that courses through your veins.

Yoongi, with his lips still pressed to your breasts, feels the seismic shift within you, the cascade of pleasure that surges through your body. 

You gently push Yoongi away, your body still tingling from the intense pleasure of your orgasm. As you meet his gaze, you can see a mixture of emotions in his eyes; love, desire and an undeniable hunger. 

It’s a potent combination that mirrors your own desire, and you can’t wait any longer. Your body craves his touch, his closeness, and the fulfillment that only he can provide. 

You want him now.

“Yoongi, I need you now,” with a sense of urgency and raw desire burning in your eyes, you plead with Yoongi, your voice a husky whisper that conveys the depth of your need. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, and you can no longer bear the anticipation. 

You’re aching for him, your body yearning to be filled and consumed by him.

As you hastily discard your shorts and panties, your actions are driven by an almost primal need. 

Yoongi, sensing your desperation, doesn’t waste a moment. He’s equally consumed by desire, his body throbbing with longing for you. His cock, straining against the confines of his boxers, is a testament to his own need for release. 

A knowing chuckle escapes his lips, a mix of amusement and desire, as he helps you remove your remaining clothing. 

Your fingers tremble with a mixture of anticipation and excitement as you grab onto the elastic of Yoongi’s boxers. 

The knowledge that you are about to reveal the object of your deepest desire sends a shiver down your spine. 

With a swift, almost eager motion, you roll down the fabric and pull it down, exposing Yoongi’s throbbing cock to the morning air. The sight before you takes your breath away. It’s not your first encounter with a dick, by no means, but this is different. 

Yoongi’s cock is a work of art, beautifully sculpted and perfectly proportioned. Its girth is something to behold, stretching your imagination as to how it will feel when it’s buried deep inside you. 

The reddened tip glistens with a bead of precum, a visual testament to his undeniable desire for you.

A teasing smile dances on your lips as you lick them, your gaze fixed on his cock. 

It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered desire as you reach out, your hand trembling with anticipation. You’re captivated by the pulsing heat emanating from him, and the thought of how he’ll feel in your grasp ignites a fire within you. 

Your fingers brush against the silky skin, and you can’t help but let out a soft, appreciative gasp at the sensation. As your hand closes around his throbbing length, you know that there’s no turning back from the ecstasy that awaits you both.

Your eagerness is palpable as you stroke his dick, desire burning in your eyes. His raspy, breathless voice sends shivers down your spine as he anticipates your next move. With a devilish glint in your eyes, you slowly let go of his throbbing cock, releasing it from your gentle grasp.

“I know what you’re thinking, babe,” he pants, his voice laced with a mix of desire and restraint, “but if you do that, I’m gonna come in five seconds, and that would be embarrassing.”

You can’t help but pout in mock offense, your lips forming a playful, sultry curve. Your own arousal is undeniable, but you’re willing to indulge in some teasing foreplay before diving into the depth of passion. You just really want to suck him off, or at least give him a hand. 

“I would rather come inside your pussy,” his sultry words send a delicious thrill coursing through your body, and your breath hitches as his warm tongue grazes your earlobe. You can’t help but squirm beneath him, your need for him growing more intense by the second.

Your hand, guided by desire and need, finds its way back to his throbbing cock, fingers wrapping around it firmly, but not too tight. You begin to stroke him slowly, your touch teasing and deliberate.

Yoongi’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your skilled fingers dance over his length. The intensity of the moment hangs in the air, and you both know you’re playing with fire.

“God, I’d love that,” you gasp, the mere thought sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine, your voice trembling with desire.

He chuckles again and reaches over your head inside one of the cabinets closest to you. 

He pulls out a pack of condoms. Your eyes go wide, as you wonder why he had condoms in the cabinet, “Did you expect this to happen when we packed for this trip over a month ago?” 

You pout, caught between surprise and amusement. He just chuckles more as he rips it open with his mouth, “I bought them yesterday at the train station,” and at this revelation, your eyes go even wider. 

“After yesterday, I really wanted to make love to you, so yeah,” he says, stroking his dick teasingly and releasing a groan that sends your heart racing.

Before he rolls the condom on, he looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire and concern.

“Do you need any prep?” he asks, his voice husky with anticipation. Your gaze drifts to his thick dick, and you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

“Maybe, yeah,” you admit, your voice a soft whisper filled with awe as you look from his impressive length to his hand holding the condom. “To be honest, it’s been a while, and you’re… well, you’re quite big. So, some prep would probably be best,” you mumble, your cheeks flushed with both desire and anticipation, as he discards the condom somewhere in the sheets.

“I’ll stretch you with my fingers, okay?” 

He says, his gaze locked with yours as he sits back on his knees and gently spreads your legs. You nod eagerly, desire burning in your eyes. You can barely contain your need for him; every second feels like an eternity, and you crave his touch like never before.

“Damn, you’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire, as he slides a finger over your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit before gently pushing one finger inside your warm, welcoming core. 

The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you arch your back, aching for more of his touch. The moment he slips one of his fingers inside you, a low, needy moan escapes your lips. It’s been far too long since you’ve been with a partner, and the feeling of his digit inside you sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

As good as your toys have been, nothing can quite compare to the satisfaction of the human touch.

He continues to work his fingers inside you, a slow and deliberate rhythm that has you practically melting beneath his touch. With each push and pull, you can feel yourself relaxing and opening up to him. When he adds a second finger, your reaction is immediate. 

A soft, needy moan escapes your lips, and you can’t help but close your eyes as waves of arousal wash over you, making you feel like putty in his hands.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding about how tight you are,” he gasps, his voice filled with a heady mix of pleasure and desire. His eyes devour your flushed form, tracing the contours of your slightly sweaty skin. 

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your lips are bitten a tempting shade of red, and your eyes are pools of intense desire, making him ache for you even more.

Your voice comes out in a breathy, desperate plea, the urgency in your tone impossible to ignore, “Fuck, Yoongi!” As he continues to stretch you, even adding a third finger, you can feel the tightness gradually giving way to aching need. 

“Yoongi, please,” you whimper, your body trembling with anticipation. “I need you inside me now.”

You watch with bated breath as he sheaths himself with a fresh condom, the anticipation building with each passing second. His eyes lock onto yours, a hunger burning in the depths as he positions himself at your entrance. 

The tension in the van is palpable, and you can practically feel the heat radiating from his throbbing cock as it brushes against your slick folds. Your heart races, and you can’t help but let out a soft, needy moan, urging him to take the plunge and fill you with his dick.

As he enters you, a rush of sensations floods your senses. 

The slow, deliberate slide of his thick cock into your tight, wet and warm pussy sends shivers down your spine. The stretch is exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and desire that leaves you craving more. You can feel every inch of him, and it’s as if he’s filling a void you didn’t even know existed. 

Your pussy clenches around him, aching to be completely consumed by his desire, and you can’t help but arch your back, silently urging him to bury himself deeper within you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Yoongi’s voice trembles with desire as he inches deeper into your velvety depths. 

Each millimeter of his length that disappears inside you elicits a chorus of moans and gasps from your lips, a symphony of pleasure that fills the van. Your fingers dig into his thighs, your grip growing tighter as he takes you to the brink of ecstasy. 

His control and consideration for your pleasure make the anticipation all the more electrifying, and you can’t help but arch your back again, pressing your body further into his irresistible embrace, urging him to claim you completely.

“Move, faster,” you voice quivers with desperation as you implore him for more, your body aching for the passionate rhythm only he can provide. Yoongi’s movements quicken, the intoxicating friction sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. 

With every thrust, he delves deeper into your core, his balls slapping against you in a hypnotic cadence that echoes through the van. 

“Fuck!” 

As your bodies unite in a torrent of desire, you gasp for breath, feeling every inch of him stretching and filling you to the brim. Your nails dig into his thighs as he starts a rhythm that’s both electrifying and intoxicating. With each thrust, he claims you further, and your moans of pleasure harmonize with his ragged breaths. 

“Shit, I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he pants, as he begins to pull out slowly.

Lost in a whirlwind of sensations, you can barely find your voice, but you manage to gasp, “Yes, Yoongi, yes!”

His relentless pace has you teetering on the brink of release, your body a symphony of pleasure as his grip on your hips tighten and he plunges into you over and over again, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You lock your gaze with his, your eyes blazing with desire, and you feel an overwhelming rush of desire surging through your veins.

Desperation drips from your voice as you arch your back and beg, “Please, Yoongi, give it to me harder.” Your fingers dig into the sheets, your body craving his every movement. You lock eyes with him, a silent plea for him to take you to the pinnacle of pleasure. 

“Fuck, babe, if I do that I’m afraid you won’t be able to walk,” he groans as he tries to restrain himself, because fuck he would like that too. Your words tumble out in a breathless whimper, “I don’t care, Yoongi, I need it. I need you.” 

Your desire for him is undeniable, and you’re willing to embrace the consequences. 

The urgency in your voice, coupled with your longing gaze, fuels his own desire, pushing him closer to the edge. Yet, his love for you and the plans you both have today hold him back. Last time you hiked, he did enjoy carrying you down the mountain, but damn he really just wants to intertwine his fingers with yours as you walk hand in hand later.

Your voice is filled with raw desire as you repeat each syllable in a growl, “I don’t care,” your eyes locked onto his. 

In this moment, nothing else matters but the burning connection between you and Yoongi. It’s a declaration of your insatiable need for him, a desire that threatens to consume you both completely.

“Fuck, then turn around.” 

He instructs as he pulls out and lets your legs down from his shoulders. With a sultry smile and a flick of your hair, you turn around eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. You arch your back and present yourself to him, your ass enticingly swaying as you tease him with your seductive dance like you did yesterday, but today you finally get all of him. 

He seizes your hips firmly, his grip reassuring and possessive, and lines up his throbbing dick with your slick entrance. 

With an almost primal need, he thrusts into you in a single, commanding motion. The sensation is electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you can’t help but gasp in ecstasy, your world momentarily reduced to the overpowering connection between your bodies. 

Your fingers dig into the sheets as you try to steady yourself, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“Are you okay?” He breathes as he remains still inside you, his hands tenderly caressing your hips. You offer a soft chuckle in response, head sinking into the sheets as you catch your breath. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect it,” you admit, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and pleasure. With unwavering determination, he withdraws and seizes your hips, initiating an unyielding assault on your core. Each thrust delves deep, reaching places that send waves of ecstasy through your body, causing your head to dip lower, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“Fuck.” He exclaims in a breathless voice, savoring the erotic view unfolding before him. 

Your luscious curves are on full display, the arch of your back accentuating your enchanting figure, and your tousled hair framing your face as it disappears into the sheets, making the scene even more tantalizing.

As he repeatedly targets that exquisite sweet spot inside you, you can’t help but lose yourself in ecstasy, “That’s it!”

Your voice rises in a crescendo of pleasure, your cries echoing through the van, mingling with his primal groans of desire. With each powerful thrust, you instinctively match his rhythm, a symphony of passion and longing unfolding between your entwined bodies.

Amidst his fervent, rhythmic thrusts, he manages to gasp out a question, his voice strained and breathless, “Are you close again?”

Beads of sweat cascade down his forehead, and his disheveled long hair clings to his face. He struggles to maintain control, his eyes locked on your flushed form.

You can only respond with an eager nod, your voice hitched in a husky whisper, “Yes, Yoongi, so close.” Your body trembles with anticipation, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His touch on your swollen clit is electrifying, a single stroke enough to push you over the edge. Your world shatters into a kaleidoscope of sensation as you scream his name, the pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. Your breath comes in ragged pants as you ride out the intense, quaking aftershocks of your climax.

As your climax engulfs you, your inner muscles contract with an irresistible force, squeezing around his dick in a deliciously tight embrace. 

“Shit,” he can hardly contain himself, his thrusts growing erratic as he fights to hold on, but the intensity of your pleasure becomes his undoing. 

With a guttural groan, he spills his warm liquid into the condom, his hips bucking as his release surges into you. You can feel his dick twitching inside your throbbing warmth pussy, a tantalizing reminder of the intimacy you share. 

A longing for a more raw and bare connection lingers in your thoughts, a desire perhaps to be explored another time.

As you both pant for air, the remnants of pleasure still coursing through your bodies, Yoongi continues to thrust into you, savoring the exquisite sensations. 

He yearns to stay locked in this intimate moment with you, to revel in the connection you share, but the intensity of his release leaves his once rigid dick now growing soft. His desire is undeniable, but for now, the sensations are overwhelming, and he can’t help but retreat from the depths of your warm pussy. 

You both lay there, spent and sated, the aftermath of your desire binding you together in a cocoon of contentment.

“Fuck, that was incredible.” 

Yoongi breathes out in a husky voice as he slowly withdraws from the depths of your desire, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He carefully removes the condom, tying it off, and then tosses it aside, the desire still smoldering in his eyes. 

The van is filled with the heady scent of your shared passion, and the aftermath of your heated lovemaking lingers in the air as a reminder of the intensity you both just experienced.

“Fuck, yes. Good morning to you too,” you tease, sending him a playful flying kiss as you gracefully turn around, settling onto your back. 

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over your entangled bodies. Your post-orgasmic bliss has left you feeling utterly content, and the playful banter between you and Yoongi only adds to the intimacy of the moment.

Yoongi joins you on the bed, and together, you both lay there, chests rising and falling as you catch your breath. The intimate connection you’ve just shared still lingers in the air, a potent reminder of your passionate encounter. As you lay side by side, you steal glances at each other, your eyes conveying a mixture of desire, affection, and a newfound sense of closeness.

Yoongi reaches for the cabinet once more, retrieving a small towel, and with gentle care, he starts to clean you up between your legs. 

You can’t help but appreciate his tenderness in this intimate moment, and you express your gratitude with a soft smile, whispering, “Thank you, you’re so sweet.” The affectionate gesture further deepens the connection between you two, leaving a warm and lingering sensation of closeness that transcends the physical realm.

“Always,” he smirks as his eyes roam over your naked form, a playful glint in his eyes. “We have to get ready for the hike. I’ll whip up some breakfast. You can take a refreshing shower in the lake if you’d like,” he suggests, tossing the towel aside before reaching for his boxers, which have disappeared somewhere in the rumpled sheets. 

“Will you join me when you’ve finished making breakfast?” you inquire with a playful flutter of your eyelashes, your movements graceful as you rise from the bed. You begin searching for your clothes and a towel, your voice laced with a tempting invitation that hints at the anticipation of sharing an intimate moment in the tranquil waters of the lake.

“Fuck yeah.” 

He responds with a wicked smirk, and as you meet his gaze, you can already see the flames of desire dancing in his eyes, mirroring the burning passion that rages within your own. 

With excitement bubbling in your chest, you efficiently pack your bags and don your hiking gear, preparing for the adventure ahead. The thought of ascending Palgongsan Mountain and sharing this experience with Yoongi fuels your anticipation. 

Every strap tightened and every buckle secured serves as a reminder of the thrilling journey awaiting you both.

Sitting side by side on the bus, you and Yoongi share a moment of awe as Palgongsan Mountain comes into view. 

Its vibrant colors, a symphony of green, yellow, and orange, blend together in a breathtaking masterpiece. You turn to Yoongi, a sense of wonder lighting up your eyes, recognizing that he’s witnessed this natural beauty countless times before. However, for you, this is an entirely new experience, your first glimpse of Daegu’s scenic marvels. 

“It’s so incredibly beautiful,” you marvel, your words filled with genuine amazement, sharing this captivating moment with him.

Standing before the majestic mountain, you’re left utterly breathless. Your next move is towards the Cable Cars, where you and Yoongi board and embark on a remarkable journey that nearly takes you to the mountain’s peak. 

As the Cable Car ascends, you’re treated to an awe-inspiring spectacle. The colors of nature come alive beneath your feet, a mesmerizing dance of hues akin to the strokes of a masterful painting, creating an unforgettable picture. The feeling of floating above this breathtaking landscape etches a memory that will forever linger in your heart.

Exiting the Cable Cars, you and Yoongi are now standing at the precipice of the mountain’s summit. With unwavering determination, you set your sights on the hiking trail that will guide you to the pinnacle. It’s a path marked by adventure, beckoning you to explore the hidden treasures of nature.

As you step onto the trail, your fingers intertwine with Yoongi’s, forming a connection that transcends words. 

Walking hand in hand, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this idyllic moment. It feels like a page ripped from a romantic novel, a shared journey into the unknown, your hearts beating in harmony as you navigate the path together. 

While the title of your relationship remains unspoken, the bond you’re forming feels undeniable, and for now, you’re content to savor the sweet uncertainty of what the future holds. And thankfully your back doesn’t hurt as Yoongi was afraid it would.

Upon reaching the summit, you stumble upon a quaint store nestled in the mountains. Gathering some refreshments, you both settle on a weathered bench, perched like conquerors overlooking the vast panorama of Daegu. 

The view from this height is nothing short of breathtaking, with the sprawling cityscape spread out beneath you like a living tapestry of lights and life. The sensation of being on top of the world, sharing this moment with Yoongi, fills your hearts with a sense of accomplishment and contentment. 

It’s a view that seems to mirror the possibilities of your new addition to your friendship, stretching out in every direction, waiting to be explored.

As you both gaze out at the mesmerizing view, Yoongi’s voice breaks the tranquil silence, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he poses a question that carries the weight of curiosity and sincerity.

“Can I ask you something?” 

He inquires, his tone laced with a subtle vulnerability.

You turn to him, your own eyes filled with warmth and genuine interest, and reply with a gentle nod, encouraging him to share his thoughts. 

“Of course, Yoongi, go ahead.”

“How come you haven’t had sex in a long time?” 

Yoongi’s unexpected question catches you off guard, and you momentarily struggle to control your reaction, almost choking on your water. His gentle chuckle eases the tension, and you regain your composure. With a sip of water, you offer an honest response, your words carrying a mix of candor and humor.

“Honestly?” 

You begin, setting your water bottle down, “I’ve been tired of the casual hookups, and I didn’t really feel satisfied, so I settled with my toys. Plus, that way, I didn’t have to deal with toxic men,” you quip, savoring the refreshing sip of water before continuing.

“Toxic men?” he inquires, intrigued by your choice of words.

You don’t hold back, letting your frustration and past wounds color your response. “Yeah, lying, cheating fuckboys,” you assert, your voice filled with a mixture of anger and resignation. “The kind who’ll make you feel like you’re their whole world one day, only to tear you down the next,” you explain, your shoulders lifting in a shrug as you reflect on the painful memories.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Yoongi says, his eyes filled with genuine sympathy, “The guys I know, me included, aren’t like that,” he reassures you with sincerity.

You offer a small smile, feeling a warmth in your chest as you place your hand on his. “I know, Yoon,” you say softly, your eyes meeting his. “Guess I’ve just been unlucky. What about you?”

“Just a lot of casual hookups,” Yoongi admits with a hint of regret, his gaze briefly falling to his hands, “Most of my time goes into the garage, which is also why I broke up with my last girlfriend.”

“Would you want to be in a relationship again?” you ask, your voice soft, a mixture of hope and anxiety in your eyes. You hold your breath, waiting for his response, unsure of what to expect.

“Yeah, with the right woman.” 

He says with a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours. As those words hang in the air, you can’t help but wonder and hope, your heart beating a little faster, if you might just be the right woman for him.

Today, Yoongi has planned for you to meet his family, and a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. 

You’ve heard about his family’s restaurant in Daegu, where they’ve honed their culinary expertise, and you’re well aware of Yoongi’s extraordinary talent in the kitchen. 

As you prepare to meet his loved ones, your senses tingle with anticipation. Your heart flutters with the thought of sharing this special part of his life. Despite your nerves, you’re confident that his family, who’ve nurtured such a remarkable person, must be as warm and wonderful as he is.

You board the bus to their family home, your anticipation growing with every passing mile. As you arrive, you’re immediately struck by the grandeur of the house. It’s a majestic residence that exudes warmth and comfort.

With a hopeful yet nervous heart, you approach the front door and raise your hand to knock. 

The door swings open, revealing Yoongi’s older sister. 

Her face lights up with an infectious smile, and her eyes dance with excitement. 

Without hesitation, she pulls Yoongi into a warm, tight embrace, a mix of joy and nostalgia twinkling in her eyes. Despite his initial grumbling, Yoongi reciprocates the hug, his stoic facade melting away in the presence of his beloved sister.

Then, her gaze shifts to you, and a mischievous glint sparkles in her eyes as she playfully inquires, “Is that your girlfriend?” 

Your cheeks immediately flush with embarrassment, and you find yourself at a loss for words. 

The label of your relationship with Yoongi has never been explicitly defined, leaving you in an awkward predicament. 

But before you can muster a response, Yoongi steps in with a casual yet protective tone, “Nah, we’re just really good friends.” His words hang in the air, tinged with a hint of something unspoken, leaving you to wonder about the true nature of your friendship.

His sister astutely observes the swift transformation in your expression, which now portrays a poignant blend of regret and sadness. Deep down, you feel a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—simultaneous waves of disappointment and anger. How could Yoongi casually introduce you as ‘just friends’ when the connection between you both runs far deeper?

Yet, in the recesses of your heart, you grapple with the realization that you’ve never truly had that defining conversation to cement your relationship status. It’s a bitter truth that leaves you torn between yearning for more and fearing that you might have inadvertently pushed him away with your silent expectations.

His sister ushers you deeper into the heart of their childhood home, where the familiar scent of home-cooked meals wafts from the kitchen. 

There, you find Yoongi’s mother, her hands deftly moving across the countertop, orchestrating a symphony of flavors. Her warm smile greets you, and you return the gesture with a respectful bow, appreciating the comfort of this inviting kitchen and the sense of family that permeates every corner.

You extend a warm greeting to Yoongi’s father, who is meticulously setting the table in the cozy dining room. 

The room exudes an air of tradition, with polished wooden furniture and framed family photos adorning the walls. 

As you watch him arrange the utensils and place mats, you can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for the family’s close-knit bond and the effort they put into maintaining their traditions. 

You find yourself in the cozy living room, engaged in a polite yet slightly uncomfortable conversation with Yoongi’s sister and her husband. 

As she peppers you with questions, your mind races to find the right answers; how and when you and Yoongi met and you vividly recall the day you met him, the memory of your car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and the serendipity of Jimin calling him to help you a decade ago. 

When she inquires about your relationship status with Yoongi, you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as you echo the same words he used earlier, ‘just friends’, though it knots your stomach with unspoken desires. 

As the questions continue, you begin to feel a subtle tension building within you. You find yourself carefully measuring your responses, your eyes occasionally glancing toward Yoongi in search of reassurance.

When asked about the duration of your vacation, your lips curve into a polite smile, but a flicker of excitement ignites in your eyes. “About another month and a half,” you respond, your voice laced with a mix of anticipation and wonder at the adventures yet to come.

As your job in marketing becomes the topic of conversation, you lean forward, your enthusiasm shining through. Each word you speak carries the weight of your ambition and dedication to your career. 

“I work in marketing,” you explain, “helping businesses connect with their audience in meaningful ways.” The more you talk about your work, the more you feel a sense of pride and accomplishment, the embers of your professional journey glowing brightly in your words.

As Yoongi’s sister turns her attention to him, you watch with interest, wondering how he’ll respond to her probing questions. 

The living room seems to hold its breath, awaiting his answers. Yoongi, reclining comfortably in a nearby armchair, exudes an air of calm confidence as he addresses each query.

When asked about his garage and work, his eyes light up with a passionate fire. 

“Work’s going great,” he shares, his voice a harmonious blend of pride and determination. “The garage has been keeping me busier than ever, and I’m loving every moment of it. I get to work on amazing cars and meet incredible people.”

As the conversation shifts to his relationship status, Yoongi’s smile takes on a hint of playfulness. 

“Well,” he begins, “I’ve been focusing on my career, but you never know when the right person will come along.” His response carries an air of mystery, leaving room for interpretation, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope, wondering if you might be that ‘right person’.

As the conversation takes an unexpected turn toward the topic of children and grandchildren, you find yourself caught up in the familial exchange. Yoongi’s response is laced with a touch of sibling rivalry, countering with a smirk, “You’re the eldest, so you should be the first.”

Yoongi’s sister, perhaps inspired by her own maternal instincts, playfully hints at future generations by caressing her tummy. 

The moment is charged with anticipation and joy, and you’re not entirely sure why, but it triggers a spontaneous, delighted gasp from your lips, followed by a small, joyful shriek. The room falls into a hushed, expectant silence, all eyes turning to Yoongi’s sister. 

Her subtle gesture carries a world of meaning, and Yoongi, with wide-eyed astonishment, breaks the silence with a heartfelt question: “Are you pregnant?”

In response, she nods, a radiant smile lighting up her face, and the room erupts in a chorus of heartfelt congratulations.

As laughter fills the room and Yoongi’s sister playfully teases him about not having an excuse anymore to delay having children of his own, he responds with a hearty, confident laugh of his own. He knows that his journey will unfold in its own time, and he’s unapologetically determined to live life on his terms.

As you all gather around the dining table, the fragrant aroma of the Korean feast engulfs the room, making your mouths water in anticipation. 

The table is adorned with a colorful array of dishes, each one meticulously prepared and bursting with flavors that dance on your taste buds. Kimchi, with its spicy and tangy kick, stands as a vibrant centerpiece, surrounded by the inviting allure of Bibimbap’s sizzling stone bowl, the mouthwatering tteokbokki, and the succulent bulgogi. 

The table is a tapestry of Korean culinary delights, showcasing the rich heritage and diversity of flavors, from the crispy Samgyeopsal to the comforting warmth of Japchae and the hearty Jjigae. Your eyes dart from one dish to another, trying to decide where to start, and the promise of fried chicken adds an exciting twist to this already indulgent spread. 

With each dish more tempting than the last, you can’t help but feel a deep appreciation for the cultural richness and culinary mastery before you. 

As you take your first bite, the explosion of flavors on your palate brings a symphony of delight to the dinner table, making this gathering a truly unforgettable experience.

Amid the mouthwatering feast laid before you, the conversation around the table continues to flow like a gentle river. 

Yoongi’s mother, a warm and welcoming presence, leans in with genuine curiosity sparkling in her eyes as she asks the familiar question about how you and Yoongi crossed paths.

With a smile, you recount the serendipitous encounter from a decade ago, a tale woven with threads of chance and fate. Your words paint a vivid picture of a young woman in distress, stranded with a broken-down car, and a chance meeting with a skilled mechanic who happened to be none other than Yoongi. 

You can thank Jimin for introducing you. The story carries a touch of destiny, one that led to a friendship that has grown and deepened over the years.

As you share this personal history, the table seems to come alive with shared laughter and nods of approval. It’s a testament to the power of chance meetings and the bonds that can form when hearts connect, even under unexpected circumstances. 

Yoongi’s mother listens intently, her smile growing as she begins to understand the special connection between you and her son, a connection that extends far beyond mere friendship.

With a gracious nod and a warm expression, Yoongi’s mother extends a heartfelt invitation. 

“You know,” she begins, “while you’re here in Daegu, you simply must visit our family restaurant. It’s been a labor of love for us, and I would be delighted to have you there.” 

Her words carry a sense of pride and tradition, and you can see the deep connection she has with the family business. The idea of sharing a meal in their restaurant feels like more than just an invitation; it’s an offering of warmth, a way to welcome you into their world and share a piece of their family’s history with you. 

As you accept her invitation with gratitude and enthusiasm, you can’t help but feel that this trip to Daegu is turning into an unforgettable journey filled with not only breathtaking sights but also heartwarming connections.

The food is nothing short of extraordinary, each dish a symphony of flavors that dance on your taste buds. 

As you savor each bite, you can’t help but admire the culinary expertise that has been passed down through generations in Yoongi’s family. The flavors are a perfect reflection of the love and dedication that goes into their cooking. Around the table, the conversation flows effortlessly. Yoongi’s family is warm and welcoming, making you feel like you’ve known them for years. 

Stories are shared, laughter fills the air, and you find yourself feeling grateful for this unexpected moment of connection.

After the satisfying meal, Yoongi leads you down a hallway filled with memories, photographs, and some familiar faces frozen in time. The scent of nostalgia lingers in the air as he pushes open a wooden door, revealing his old room. 

Stepping inside, you’re instantly enveloped in a cocoon of memories. The room is a time capsule, preserving fragments of Yoongi’s past. You notice posters of his favorite bands still adorning the walls, faded and weathered but still carrying the same rebellious spirit.

As he shares anecdotes of his teenage years, the room comes alive with the echoes of laughter, dreams, and aspirations. It’s a place where the past and present collide, where you feel closer to Yoongi than ever before.

In this room, you discover a different facet of him—a young dreamer, passionate and determined, who embarked on a journey that would eventually lead him to you. 

As you prepare to leave Yoongi’s childhood home and return to the campsite for a restful night’s sleep, his sister gently pulls you aside. 

Her voice is hushed, carrying the weight of understanding and a hint of mischievousness as she leans in close, her words intended for your ears alone.

“I can see how you look at him,” she murmurs, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. 

“You should make a move.”

A blush creeps across your cheeks, a testament to the unspoken connection that has already blossomed between you and Yoongi. 

You can’t help but chuckle softly, realizing that her keen perception has unveiled a secret that your hearts have already whispered to each other. 

It’s a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the budding romance that has woven its way into your journey. With a conspiratorial nod, you convey your gratitude for her words, knowing that the path ahead holds the promise of something beautiful and profound. 

The stars above seem to twinkle with approval as you head back to the campsite, the night filled with the magic of possibilities.

The desire to have that important conversation with Yoongi simmers beneath the surface, a question that lingers on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. 

It’s the uncharted territory of your emotions, a territory filled with both hope and trepidation. You yearn to understand what you are to him, to unravel the intricate threads of your friendship.

Yet, doubt and uncertainty cast their shadows. 

What if his intentions differ from yours? 

What if he prefers the current arrangement, comfortable in its casualness?

His declaration of ‘liking’ you hangs in the air, a tantalizing clue but not the complete answer to the question that occupies your thoughts.

For now, you choose to immerse yourself in the present, savoring each stolen moment with him. The allure of his presence makes it effortless to lose yourself in the intricate tapestry of emotions and desires that entwine your souls. The unspoken question lingers, but as time unfolds, so too may the answers you seek.

Today, the world unfurls before you like a vast canvas, ready to be painted with the vibrant strokes of your adventure. 

After weeks of anticipation, your bicycles are no longer silent spectators, dangling on the back of Holly; they are now your chariots, poised to carry you through a day of exploration.

With the wind tousling your hair and the rhythmic hum of tires on pavement as your soundtrack, you embark on your cycling escapade. 

The world blurs around you as you pedal through the cycling park, the two of you in perfect harmony with each other and the world. Eventually, you find yourselves in a tranquil park, a picturesque oasis nestled amidst the bustling city. 

Here, under the generous shade of swaying trees, you lay out a picnic blanket, surrounded by the gentle whispers of leaves and the distant laughter of children at play. Lunchtime arrives as a welcomed intermission in your day of adventure. Your meal is a symphony of flavors and shared laughter, a testament to the simple joys of life and the beauty of your friendship.

After days of vibrant exploration and exhilarating adventures, the two of you decide it’s time for a change of pace. You yearn for a day of tranquility and relaxation, a chance to immerse yourselves in the soothing embrace of Daegu’s hidden gem, Spa Valley.

As you step into this oasis of serenity, the world outside seems to fade away, replaced by the calming ambiance of the spa. The air is filled with the gentle whispers of steam rising from the hot springs, carrying with them promises of relaxation and rejuvenation.

Your journey through the spa takes you to the jjimjilbang, a realm where time slows down and cares dissipate like steam. Here, amidst the warmth of saunas and the serenity of traditional Korean spa treatments, you and Yoongi find yourselves immersed in a world of pure bliss.

The jjimjilbang’s soothing effects seem almost redundant for Yoongi, already blessed with an impeccable complexion and vitality. Yet, the experience proves to be more than just skin-deep, allowing the both of you to bask in the healing properties of the spa, feeling your worries and stresses evaporate with every passing moment.

In the midst of mid-August, a gentle shift in the air signals a welcome respite from the scorching heat that dominated the previous months. As the weather begins to cool ever so slightly, you find yourselves faced with a day where the possibilities are endless.

With a thoughtful smile, Yoongi suggests a plan for the day – one that resonates with your shared love for comfort and relaxation. 

The idea of spending a leisurely day inside the cozy confines of the van, cocooned in blankets and pillows, captures your imagination. As you both settle into your impromptu sanctuary, the van becomes a haven of comfort and contentment. 

Yoongi spoons you from behind, his head nestled perfectly against yours, creating a sense of intimacy and warmth that transcends mere physical proximity.

Together, you lose yourselves in the captivating world of k-dramas, each episode drawing you deeper into its intricate narratives and compelling characters. As the hours drift by, you revel in the simplicity of this shared moment, and with the sound of your steady breath, Yoongi drifts off to sleep.

Awakening from the tranquil embrace of a midday nap, Yoongi stirs at the gentle movements of your form. His eyes, still heavy with the remnants of sleep, meet yours as you reposition yourself. The corners of his lips curl upwards, as if an idea has blossomed within his mind. 

His voice, a low and raspy timbre softened by slumber, breaks the silence. “You know,” he begins, his words tinged with a hint of excitement, “I was thinking... How about a date tonight? To my parents’ restaurant.” 

The suggestion hangs in the air, poised like a secret waiting to be unveiled. In that moment, you catch a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes, a desire to share more of himself with you, to bring you into a cherished part of his world.

The prospect of a date carries a touch of anticipation, an invitation to explore the layers of your relationship. 

It’s an opportunity to see Yoongi in a different light, not just as the passionate and adventurous best friend you’ve come to adore, but also as a son and a part of a loving family.

As the day unfolds into evening, the prospect of this date fills the air with a sense of excitement, promising an evening filled with culinary delights and the warmth of family ties. And with each passing hour, the anticipation builds, making the moment when you step into that restaurant feel like the beginning of an unforgettable chapter in your shared journey.

Entering Yoongi’s parents’ restaurant, you’re enveloped in an atmosphere that exudes warmth and tradition. The subtle aroma of Korean spices and savory delights fills the air, creating a sensory embrace that immediately sets the tone for the evening.

The restaurant, bathed in soft, warm lighting, beckons you further. It’s a haven where tradition meets modernity, evident in the fusion of classic Korean dishes and contemporary culinary innovations. The menu is a treasure trove of choices, offering everything from time-honored Korean staples to the sizzle and delight of individual grills at every table.

Around you, diners chat, their laughter and clinking glasses composing a melodious background to the scene. The soft hum of conversations, punctuated by the sizzling sounds of barbecue, creates a symphony of camaraderie that resonates throughout the establishment.

As you settle into your seats, you can’t help but appreciate the familial atmosphere. There’s a sense of history here, a feeling of belonging that Yoongi shares with you, a connection to a place that has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. 

The waitstaff, dressed in elegant uniforms, move with grace and precision, attending to the needs of each table. It’s clear that this is more than just a restaurant; it’s a labor of love, a testament to the dedication and passion of Yoongi’s family. 

As you peruse the menu, your senses are teased by the tantalizing descriptions of dishes, each one promising an unforgettable culinary journey. You can feel the excitement building, knowing that this evening will not only be a feast for the palate but also a celebration of shared experiences, flavors, and connections.

As you both savor the delectable dishes, the flavors dance on your taste buds, a symphony of tastes and textures that make each bite an exquisite experience. The rich, nuanced dishes served at Yoongi’s parents’ restaurant showcase the culinary heritage of Korea, and you can’t help but appreciate the artistry and care that goes into each creation.

As you savored the delectable Korean dishes, the warm and welcoming presence of Yoongi’s mother added an extra layer of comfort to the evening. Her brief visit, filled with genuine well-wishes and smiles, made you feel like a part of their family. 

It was moments like these that reminded you of the beauty of sharing a meal with loved ones, the way it could bridge gaps and create lasting memories.

With a contented sigh, you couldn’t help but express your delight. “Everything looks so good,” you said, your eyes sparkling with appreciation. “I’m having a great time.” 

Her smile in response was like a reassuring nod, a silent affirmation of your place at the table and in their hearts. As she left you two alone again, the atmosphere seemed to shimmer with the warmth of shared laughter and delicious food. It was a moment that etched itself into your memory, a testament to the bonds that were forming and the genuine connection you felt with Yoongi and his family.

Between bites, you and Yoongi engage in a delightful conversation, your voices creating a pleasant cadence in the cozy ambiance. His genuine interest in your thoughts warms your heart, making you feel even more connected to him.

He leans in slightly, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the restaurant’s lighting as he asks about your experience meeting his family. It’s clear that he values your opinion, and you share your genuine thoughts, recounting the warmth and hospitality you felt during your visit.

The conversation naturally segues to your impressions of Daegu. With each word, you paint a vivid picture of your journey through the city—its charming streets, vibrant culture, and the breathtaking natural beauty you’ve had the privilege of witnessing. 

Your enthusiasm is palpable, and Yoongi listens intently, his own connection to the city deepening as he sees it through your eyes.

The Soju arrives at your table, its crystal-clear liquid shimmering in the soft candlelight. Yoongi, with practiced ease, takes the lead, pouring a generous amount into your glass, then into his. 

The scent of the traditional Korean spirit fills the air, its mildly sweet aroma inviting you to partake in this shared experience.

You watch as Yoongi raises his glass, the warm glow of the restaurant casting a golden sheen on his features. His eyes lock onto yours, and in that moment, you both understand that this gesture is more than just a drink; it’s a silent toast to the moments you’ve shared and the ones yet to come. 

With a slight smile, you clink your glasses together, the gentle chime of glass against glass resonating like a harmonious note in the air. 

Then, in perfect unison, you both bring the glasses to your lips and down the Soju with a practiced swig.

The liquid courses down your throat, igniting a warm, pleasant fire within. The initial burn gives way to a soothing, tingling sensation, and you can’t help but exchange an appreciative glance with Yoongi. 

Yoongi takes charge of the grill, sizzling slices of succulent meat to perfection. The tantalizing aroma fills the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. As he deftly maneuvers the chopsticks, flipping the meat and ensuring it’s cooked to perfection, a wave of warmth washes over you.

With a genuine smile, he picks up a perfectly cooked piece, the juices glistening as they cling to the tender meat. He extends his chopsticks towards you, offering you a bite with the kind of care that’s become second nature between you. 

You lean forward, parting your lips to accept the delicious mouthful he’s prepared. The flavors explode on your tongue, and for a moment, the world outside this cozy restaurant fades into insignificance. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the extraordinary flavors he’s introduced to your senses.

This simple yet intimate gesture sends your thoughts spiraling. The way he grills for you, feeds you, and how you share this meal together—it all feels so unmistakably domestic. You can’t help but ponder the ’just friends’ label that has lingered between you two.

As Yoongi pours another glass of Soju, the fiery liquid sparkles in the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. The soft glow of the overhead lanterns casts enchanting shadows on your faces, creating an intimate cocoon around your table. 

The restaurant’s lively chatter becomes a distant hum as the two of you delve deeper into conversation.

With each sip of Soju, a warm and pleasant buzz envelops you, blurring the edges of your thoughts and inhibitions. It’s as if the world outside this cozy corner has ceased to exist, leaving only the intoxicating blend of shared laughter and desire lingering between you. 

The atmosphere is palpable, charged with the electricity of unspoken emotions. Your eyes meet and lock, a silent conversation passing between them. 

As the Soju continues to flow, the barriers that have held you back begin to crumble. 

The desire that’s simmered beneath the surface now surges to the forefront, impossible to ignore. It’s a thrilling dance of emotions, both exhilarating and terrifying. 

You find yourself drawn to Yoongi, not just as a friend, but as something more. The unspoken tension in the air hangs heavy, like a question that begs to be answered. 

Amidst the Soju-fueled haze, your emotions swirl like a tumultuous sea. 

You long to ask Yoongi about the true nature of your relationship, to define the unspoken connection that binds you two together. But fear creeps in, casting a shadow of doubt over your heart. 

You’re terrified that seeking clarity might shatter the delicate balance you’ve built, that the answers you long for could unravel the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

So, reluctantly, you choose to dwell in the present, to immerse yourself in the warmth of the moment and let the intoxicating Soju serve as your temporary solace. It’s a bittersweet surrender to the current state of things, a conscious decision to savor what you have without demanding more.

Your feelings, though a tempest within, are hidden behind a façade of laughter and casual conversation. The unspoken words hang in the air, an invisible barrier that you dare not cross. In this dance of emotions, you find yourself pushing your desires and the need for labels into the recesses of your mind, at least for now.

It’s a precarious balancing act, one where the thrill of the unknown mingles with the fear of what might change if you dare to confront it. 

And so, you sip your Soju, sharing glances and secrets in silence, allowing the night to take its course.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm, golden hue across the landscape, you both decide to embark on a thrilling adventure at E-world, Daegu’s exhilarating theme park. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable as you enter this enchanting realm of wonder and excitement.

The park comes alive as dusk settles in, adorned with a dazzling array of vibrant lights that twinkle like stars in the night sky. Cherry blossoms, delicate and ethereal, sway gently in the breeze, adding an extra layer of enchantment to the scene.

Together, you and Yoongi savor a delightful dinner that fuels your energy for the exhilarating experiences that await. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, you delve into a whirlwind of excitement, riding carousels that spin you around in a whirl of laughter and joy. Yoongi’s infectious dizziness only adds to the merriment, making each ride all the more memorable.

The roller coasters, a symphony of adrenaline and screams, become the crescendo of your theme park adventure. With the wind rushing through your hair and hearts pounding in unison, you both embrace the exhilaration of each twisting turn and heart-pounding drop.

Yoongi might not be a thrill-seeker, but for your sake, he’s willing to embrace the excitement of the amusement park. As the neon lights paint the night sky, he watches you with a tender affection that makes your heart flutter. It’s in the way he gazes at you, his eyes tracing the contours of your delighted expressions.

Despite his own reservations, he joins you on the rides, and you can see a subtle hint of amusement in his eyes.

He savors the moments when your laughter fills the air, your eyes sparkle with childlike wonder, and your smile becomes a permanent fixture on your face. In these shared experiences, he finds joy in your happiness, and that’s enough to make every dizzying spin and heart-pounding drop worth it.

Your enjoyment becomes his pleasure, and the way you radiate pure delight is an enchanting sight. It’s a reminder of the simple yet profound connection you share, one that doesn’t rely on grand gestures or elaborate adventures. 

For both of you, these small moments spent together are the true thrill, and the love that blossoms in these shared experiences is more exhilarating than any roller coaster ride.

In that moment, as the world spun around you, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having someone like Yoongi by your side. His willingness to step out of his comfort zone and embrace the joy of the moment, all for the sake of your happiness, touched you deeply.

You pulled him into more rides, your fingers laced together, creating a connection that transcended the dizzying whirl of lights and motion around you. It was a physical representation of the bond you shared—strong, unbreakable, and capable of weathering any twist or turn life might throw your way.

As the night continued, Yoongi’s gummy smile remained a constant source of warmth and reassurance. It was a silent promise that he would always be there, ready to share in your excitement, no matter how dizzy or disoriented it might make him feel. In this moment, beneath the vibrant carnival lights and amidst the laughter and thrills, you couldn’t help but wish for time to stand still. 

You wanted to savor every second of this shared experience, basking in the undeniable spark that had blossomed between you and Yoongi. It was a night you didn’t want to end, a night that held the promise of many more adventures together.

→ Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 → Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :(

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[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 14

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is an exotic dancer, pet names, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure and self deprecating (especially in this one), dominant mob boss Bucky, submissive reader, sir/daddy kink, slight bratting, scolding, spanking, color system and safe word in place- yellow used, angst, tears, teasing, edging, oral (f receiving), nipple play, p in v, slight marking, aftercare.

A/N- this one is just straight up porn. The next one advances the plot, I promise. But I do hope you enjoy this dirty little chapter ;D.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

"I believe someone needs to be punished."

Your veins ran cold at his words. When Bucky told you he was going to punish you, you were IN for it. You swallowed hard as you watched his gorgeously sculpted features quietly and artfully rearrange themselves into your Dominant Daddy. Your Powerful, Dominant Daddy. Your Powerful, Dominant, Very Angry Daddy. Aw, fuck.

He locked his gaze on you. His normally warm and ocean blue eyes had turned to deadly ice, but his composure was completely calm and collected. You weren't fooled. That look was dangerous. It didn't take much to imagine how he had climbed the ranks in the criminal world when he had mastered that look.

He slowly took off the black Armani suit jacket he was wearing, his eyes still boring into yours. "How's the soundproofing in this apartment?" he asked casually, as if he was asking about the weather. He folded the jacket neatly, moving his gaze from you for two seconds to see where he could put it. When he realized that he was arm's length from both a kitchen chair and the living room sofa at the same time, you saw a flicker of consternation pass over his face. You just knew he was inwardly sneering at your tiny apartment, and as nervous as you were for what you had coming, it still set off a tiny spark in you that your idiot brain jumped at.

"Why? You gonna shoot me and get your boys to hide the body?" you asked sassily. Bucky's eyes slid back over to you instantly. And narrowed even more.

Bad move. OH very bad move. Shit.

His furious steel eyes locked back on you, he draped his fitted and folded jacket over the back of the kitchen chair. "Answer my question, Angel," he said in that calm, deadly voice of his. He was done fucking around and you knew it.

You tried not to make your gulp incredibly obvious. "Um, well," you stammered, any trace of the brat completely gone. "It's....I can sometimes hear my neighbors if they're fighting. But that's usually it," you murmured, knowing it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference.

"Well, then I guess you're going to have to keep quiet, aren't you?" Bucky said silkily. He walked past you slowly. As he did, he raised his right hand, and snapped the wrist cuff button on his crisp white shirt open. A shiver went through your entire body. He continued to hold your gaze, ever-so-slowly rolling up the right sleeve of his shirt as he sat himself down on your minuscule couch. "Come here," he commanded softly, before opening his left wrist cuff.

"Daddy, I'm really sorry I-"

"NOW."

You scurried into place in front of him, between his wide spread legs, watching him roll the sleeve of his metal arm up. FUCK. You were about to get the tanning of your life. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry as all the wetness in your body flooded in between your legs. "Sorry, Daddy," you said, watching him turn the final fold on his sleeve. He said nothing, but waited for you to turn your gaze back to him. You did with a slight whimper.

"None of that," he said sternly. "You will not utter a single word tonight unless I give you permission to, or ask you a question. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Glad you're finally starting to listen. Now turn to your right."

You did as you were told, your left hip now facing him, hating it when he dragged it out like this. He knew you hated it, which is exactly why he did it when you were being punished. But his next command was unexpected.

"Put your hands on your thighs and keep them there."

Odd. He usually made you bend over his knee for a spanking. You risked turning your head a bit to see what he was up to, and found him smirking mockingly at you.

"Can't keep your eyes off Daddy, hmm? That's fine baby. I can't keep my eyes off you either. But that was the problem tonight, wasn't it? You not staying under Daddy's watch. Tsk, tsk, tsk." And with that, he delivered a hard slap to your ass with his right hand. You bit down on the sudden cry that wanted to escape your lips at the pain blossoming across your backside. Your head snapped forward as you inhaled sharply.

Before you could recover, Bucky reached up and ran his metal fingers over your still clothed clit. He began slowly dragging them back and forth between your legs, his eyes watching your face as you began dancing on that line between pain and pleasure. You choked on the moan of desire, doing your best to be quiet as he commanded. Just when it started feeling really good, Bucky spanked you so fast and so hard it made tears spring to your eyes, as he held you in place with his left hand.

"That's right, little girl. Gonna blister that pretty little bottom of yours real good tonight. And I've already arranged for you to have the day off tomorrow so no one will see that gorgeous bruised butt...except me."

You couldn't help it- you turned back to him in disbelief. You hated it when he interfered with your work and he knew it. That tiny idiot part of your brain took control again as your gaze challenged him.

Even BIGGER mistake than before. Oopsie, oopsie, BIG oopsie.

The metal fingers immediately stopped rubbing. Bucky put his huge right hand on your ass, right where you were sure there was already a handprint. "You got something to say little girl?" he said in that deadly tone.

Finally coming to your senses, you shook your head, rocking from foot to foot in your nervous state. "N-no, sir," you whispered, dropping your gaze abashedly to his lap. You definitely saw something twitch in the front of his pants when you said that.

"That's better," he said in that arrogant way he had. You gritted your teeth, expecting another spank, but instead, he withdrew both hands. "Pull your pants down to your knees."

Biting your lip, you did as he told you to. Your insides clenched as you straightened back up. Somehow, standing up and to the side of your Dom with your bare bottom out on display, just waiting to be spanked, was more humiliating that being over his knee. And far less intimate. It started to sink in when you realized that. The lack of intimacy right now showed you how upset he felt at your unsafe choice. You started to truly understand how much you'd disappointed him by not staying put.

Bucky's metal fingers resumed their previous position between your legs. You gasped as the coolness of the metal reacted with the heat of your folds. You were never more aware of your arousal than when Bucky's metal fingers were down there, slipping and sliding, spreading it all around. Without warning, he delivered another three searing spanks to your now exposed butt, making you gasp and try desperately to keep quiet.

"What did I tell you about staying put, hm?" SPANK. "About doing what you're told? Didn't I tell you..." SPANK SPANK SPANK. "...how important it was to me that you were safe?" SPANK SPANK. "About how I don't-" SPANK "-like-" SPANK "-being-" SPANK "-without you?" SPANK SPANK SPANK. "Do you know what could have happened to you?" SPANK. "And do you know if something had happened to you-" SPANK SPANK. "-that it would have killed me?" SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK.

By this time, it was all you could do to keep your sobs silent. The complete realization of his disappointment in you had smacked you harder than he ever could. He loved you, he cared about you, and he really hadn't asked for anything unreasonable. Besides, he was right- anything could have happened. You remembered the man cat calling, and a sudden prickle of fear of what could have happened sent you over the edge. The tears were coursing down your face, and you let out the tiniest involuntary whimper.

Bucky had been waiting for that. He knew that you had felt bad, but it wasn't until the dam burst that he knew you truly understood the lesson he was trying to teach you. When he saw your tears, his heart twisted. His right palm went from a rock-hard flat paddle to gently stroking your sore, ruby-red bottom. His left hand never stopped gently rubbing your clit.

"There's my good girl," he said soothingly, which made you start to cry even harder, unable to stay quiet. Finally taking pity on you, Bucky pulled you into his lap, taking care to make sure your backside was between his legs so he could continue stroking it to calm the punished flesh. "Shhh, baby, you did so good for me. So good. There's my pretty girl. There's my good girl. You can cry, it's okay. Daddy's got you."

You wound your arms around his neck and buried your face. "I'm...I'm so-sorry...." you sobbed, knowing that he hadn't given you permission to speak yet but desperately needing to say it.

Bucky held you tight and continued rubbing your bottom. "I know you are, baby. I know. And you took that part of your punishment so well. I'm very proud of you. But you know that it's not over, right?" He tilted his head a bit to look you in the eye. You nodded miserably. "What's your color?"

The two of you used the color system- green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop. You also had a safe word, just in case, and hand signals if you were unable to speak or went non-verbal. Bucky took good care of you, no matter what the circumstances. Even if you had done the most horrible things and you were getting the punishment you very rightly deserved, he would always check on your colors. He abhorred the idea of pushing you past your limits, not that he didn't mind getting right up to the line, and so would always, always check in with you. And that realization, that you had made someone who loved you enough to check in with you so disappointed, made you feel like the lowest worm.

"I'm green, Sir," you said in a tiny voice. Bucky's eyes narrowed in thought at your tone. There was something wrong and you weren't telling him. His tone shifted back to the warmth that it usually had only for you.

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"Baby..." Bucky hesitated, but then decided to just go for it. "You're trying to push into the next part before you're ready. Why?"

"I need my punishment so I won't disappoint you anymore. I hate...that I've disappointed you and I won't do it again, so please punish me for being a stupid little shit."

Bucky's heart broke. Here he was again, up against your self-loathing. If it took the rest of his life, he was going to make you understand that you were loved and deserved to be loved, no matter what happened. "You are not a stupid little shit," he whispered to you as he cradled you into his chest. "You are my Angel. My light and my love. You made a bad choice, but that is not all you are. You hear me?

You sniffed in a very unladylike way and gave a half hearted nod. You wanted to believe his words with all your heart, but it was so hard...

"Baby, I want you to focus on your mind for a moment. I'll ask you for your color again soon, but right now, I'm at a yellow, okay? I can't see you hurting yourself like this. I want to make sure you're okay."

You leaned away from him, surprised. "You...you..." you stammered, unable to even put together a sentence in your shock that he gave you a yellow because he was worried about you.

Bucky smiled that soft smile that made your heart melt. He brushed the hair away from your face, and you caught the scent of your arousal on his fingers. "I told you, it's my job to take care of you. Inside and out. And I know that you are sorry for what you did." His smile widened a bit sadly as he saw the look of shock on your face. "Go ahead and tell Daddy what you're really feeling, Angel."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I really am, Daddy, I'm so sorry..." you blabbered, before diving back into the crook of his neck and crying softly all over again. He gently kissed your forehead.

"I know Baby. So now you've gotta forgive yourself too, you hear me?"

"But you said my punishment wasn't over. Doesn't that mean...that you don't forgive me? Why should I forgive myself?" you mumbled, unable to look up.

"Ah, I see," Bucky said. "Poor choice of words on my part. You do like to keep me on my toes, don't you pretty girl?" He chuckled, but when you didn't respond, he simply laid his cheek back down on the top of your head. "Let's say the next part isn't a punishment, then. Let's say it's...a deterrent."

"A deterrent?"

"So you never, ever, walk down the streets of New York alone late at night anymore. You've taken your punishment for doing it- now I want to give you something to think about if you're ever tempted to do it again."

"How is that not a punishment?"

"Well, you just might enjoy it."

"Enjoy it how?"

"Daddy can't give away all his secrets up front, now can he?" Bucky said, that hint of mischief sneaking into his voice. A rush of endorphins flooded your system at hearing that tone. It was a siren's call to take another hit of the drug known as Bucky Barnes. My god it was divine, heavenly, even in the midst of your emotional chaos. "So because I don't think you're going to believe me until I say this....I forgive you."

He straight up snorted at you when you sat back this time, your jaw on the floor. You looked so cute and sweet, he couldn't help himself. "You...you do?" you stammered in disbelief.

"I do."

You could do nothing but stare for a moment. You unwound your arms from his neck, placing your hands on either side of his face. "I truly am so sorry, Bucky," you whispered, your eyes brimming with tears as you held his gaze. "I didn't mean to make you worry or stress. I just....it's still new, for someone to...." you trailed off.

"For someone to take care of you," Bucky finished gently, before giving you a wide, shit-eating grin. "Well, get used to it, woman." A giggle suddenly burst forth, breaking the tension and heartache. Bucky pulled you to him again, pressing his warm lips to yours, offering you a benediction. As you did earlier today -or was it yesterday as it was well past midnight?- you got lost in his kiss, your heart relaxing, knowing that you had his forgiveness.

Eventually, Bucky broke the kiss. "Color?" he asked sweetly.

"Green, Daddy," you said, giving him a genuine smile this time.

He grinned wickedly. "Excellent." He immediately stood up, holding you in his arms, and marched in the direction of your bedroom. As the place was tiny, it was pretty obvious which direction to go in, and before you could do more then squeak in surprise, you were back on your feet by your bed. You'd lost the sleep shorts that had been bunched around your ankles by this time somewhere back in the hallway. Bucky leaned forward, looking you dead in the eye again. The Ice Monster was gone from his gaze, but now the Devil himself had taken his place.

"Now for this next part," Bucky said in that silky, low tone of his. "I'm going to see just how well you do at staying put." A tiny part of you prayed that meant he wasn't going to spank you anymore, as your ass was still on fire, but those words still sent a thrill up your spine. He reached down at the hem of your teeshirt and pulled it over your head. He held your hands, but took a step back to admire your body. It always made you blush a little when he did this, but you tried to hold it together for his sake. "Turn around," he said, that evil grin in his voice again. Suppressing your urge to roll your eyes, you turned and gave him exactly what you knew he wanted.

Bucky's greedy hands trailed down your back, until he gently squeezed your still sore bottom. "Nice and warm, just like I like it," he purred in your ear, before spinning you back around. He locked eyes with you and began slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. You didn't notice the smug grin on his face as you were breathless just watching him undress. He finally shrugged it off, and made short work of his white undershirt as well. You desperately wanted to run your hands over his muscular chest and abs, but he hadn't given you permission to do so.

"Good girl," he said in a husky voice, noting your restraint. How the hell did he always know what you were thinking? "Good girl not touching until you're told to. But...I do think that I'll need some help...with these." His palm slowly grazed over his zipper, where you could clearly see the outline of his erection. Without missing a beat you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid the zipper down, trying to go slowly but needing him so bad it was anything but slow. He chuckled as he toed off his shoes. "On your knees," he said softly. You knelt down, slowly pulling his pants down as you did so. He carefully stepped out of them with your assistance.

You looked up at him, biting your lip, praying that he was going to let you take him in your mouth. He only smirked at you. "Socks, baby," he said. You quickly peeled his socks off, then went back to your Bambi eyes. He chuckled again- god you loved when he softly laughed in these intimate moments- clad only in his tight black undershorts. "Up you go," he ordered.

Fighting the urge to pout, you remembered that you still had a lesson to learn, and so you obeyed instantly, looking up at him demurely. Bucky put a hand behind your head and one around your waist, and pulled you in for a heated, searing kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he carefully navigated the two of you to the bed, laying you down gently. He stepped back, and while keeping eye contact with you, removed his boxer briefs. He reached down, wrapping his right hand around his cock, giving you a good show.

"Now, let's see if my girl can stay where she's put," he said, slowly stroking himself as he walked back towards the foot of the bed.

"Yes, sir," you said, breathless with anticipation, your mouth dry. You spread your legs, hoping....

"Bend your knees and hold them underneath with your hands," Bucky ordered you, still stroking his painfully hard cock, watching your every move. You did as he said. "Now spread your knees apart."

You obeyed, and a delicious moan escaped his lips, seeing your gorgeous pussy spread just for him. Bucky put one knee on the bed and leaned over you, bracing himself on his left hand as he used his right to stroke your slit with his cock, teasing you. You threw your head back, crying out already at his sensual touch.

"Now," he said in that soft, dominant tone that made your insides turn to liquid. "Don't remove your hands. You keep them in place. Hold your knees and keep yourself splayed out, just like this. Don't let go. Don't move. No begging for anything, no matter what. Make all the noise you want, but no begging. If you can do that for me, if you can stay put in this position that I put you in until I'm done having my fun, I'll let you cum. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, yes I understand!"

"Good."

And then he began the most delicious torture of your life. You gasped and moaned, making noises that you were sure had never escaped your lips before, as Bucky oh-so-slowly teased you to the point of collapse. He kissed your soaking core, letting his tongue continue what his fingers had started earlier, sucking hard on your clit. He dragged the tip of his erection all over your folds, but never placed it where you desperately wanted it to go. He let his hands roam over your bent legs, your torso, your neck, your arms. He suckled and nipped at your breasts for a good ten minutes, which nearly drove you insane. But you didn't beg and you didn't let go. You were determined to be his good girl, no matter how close to the edge you were.

You lost track of time, completely awash in the sensations and sounds that the both of you were making, and so when Bucky finally, FINALLY slid into you suddenly, you gasped and arched your back so violently you nearly bucked off the mattress. You were so wet he hadn't even needed to use lube, and the stretch burned but also felt unbelievable. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, using your bent legs to make his thrusts snap even harder. The grunts and growls of pleasure he was making as he watched the sensations begin to overtake you were almost enough to make you cum on the spot.

"You're gonna stay put from now on when I tell you to, right?" Bucky asked, his voice strained as he pumped into you, before giving you a good smack on your right butt cheek.

"Yes, sir!! Yes, Daddy, I'll be good!" you gasped as the glorious burn reignited from your spanking. The mix of pleasure and pain fucked with your brain in the absolute best way, crashing through your brain and body like a flood.

"You swear it?" he asked, his voice tightening as he picked up the pace a bit, then gave you a matching swat on your left.

"Oh god yes, I swear, I promise, I swear!" you wailed, not giving a shit if your bedroom was truly soundproofed or not.

"Gonna be Daddy's good girl?"

"So good, so good for you Daddy!"

"Only for Daddy?"

"Only for you, Daddy! Only for you!"

"Good girl. Cum for Daddy," Bucky ordered, before his thrusts became frantic, and he growled as his own release built. That last growl completely sent you over the edge. The orgasm went on and on as he fucked you until he came, giving another feral cry as he poured himself into you.

As you both came down, the pain of the position that you were in began creeping into your body. Before you even realized that you had let out a tiny whimper, Bucky reached under your knees, sliding his fingers between your hands and your legs, breaking the death grip you hand on them.

"Go ahead, you can let go now," he purred, still catching his own breath. "Did so good for me, baby, so damn good." He quickly laid your hands down on either side of you, using his torso to help brace your still bent legs. Oh so carefully, he put his hands under your knees and slowly stretched your legs down and out. Once your legs were flat against the bed, he slowly began massaging your thighs, working out the burn and the soreness from keeping them bent and aloft so long. All the while, he kept murmuring to you how good you were for him, how beautiful, and how proud he was of you. The moment you could actually verbally respond to say 'Thank you Daddy', he had leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

"Gonna go get a washcloth and some lotion. I'll be right back, okay?" He grinned as you nodded and hummed happily. He raided your tiny bathroom, growling quietly to himself as he could barely fit in there and open your cabinet door at the same time. Oh, he was gonna get you to move in with him sooner rather than later, fuck this shit....

Bucky quickly shook off the thought, anxious to get back to you, and gathered the items he needed. As he stepped back into the bedroom, he noticed you were drinking water from a bottle beside your bed. He frowned a bit. "How long has that been there?" he said, laying down beside you with the warm, wet washcloth in his hand.

You shrugged, but immediately removed it from your lips. "Since I was here last," you answered. "Water doesn't go bad. It's fine. Here, you need to drink too." You held it out to him.

Bucky smiled as he began gently wiping between your still sensitive legs. "I'll get some in a moment, love," he said, focusing on his work. "You're my priority right now."

"But..." was all you said. He was about to scold you again for talking back, but as his eyes landed on your face, all he saw was care and compassion. And love. For him. No one ever looked at him that way. No one but you. "Please?" you added. And he was toast.

He gave you that shy smile that you rarely saw, and tilted his chin up to you in permission. The delighted smile that broke across your face made him feel like the best man on earth. You held the bottle to his lips and carefully tilted the water into his mouth, watching him to make sure he was drinking and not just placating you. When he broke away, he smiled down on you again.

"Thank you, my sweet angel. Now you finish the rest of that and let Daddy finish his work."

"Yes, sir," you said, exhausted and happy. You drained the bottle in small sips while Bucky finished cleaning you up, before quickly cleaning himself. He made you take two Advil and left only briefly to toss the washcloth into the sink, and was back next to you in a flash.

"Well, one thing I can say for how tiny this place is. I can get back to you quickly after stuff like that. Although, if it's in MY place, I don't give a shit about making a mess in the first place sooooooo...." he let that hang in the air, puckering his lips and making an exaggerated face, which caused you to giggle.

Using your mirth as a distraction, he quickly reached under you and flipped you over. The first time he had done this, it had scared the shit out of you, but now you were so used to him tossing you about like a rag doll during aftercare that you didn't do anything other than squeak in mild surprise.

Bucky took his time rubbing lotion into your still ruby red cheeks, and carefully applied Neosporin behind your knees, where, unbeknownst to you, you had nail indentations from where you'd dug your fingers in, trying so hard to be so good. He gently kissed each one of them, treasuring each red mark that you had given yourself to please him, before rubbing in the ointment, and continuing to massage to make sure that you were okay. Once he was sure it was all absorbed into your skin, he kissed your shoulder blade before flipping you back over. You giggled this time in response.

"Do you need anything else, baby?" he asked softly, unable to take his eyes from your gorgeous face.

"Just you," you whispered, reaching out for him. Bucky gladly obliged. He pulled you into his arms, scooting you both up so his head was on the pillow, and yours was on his chest. He began drawing slow lines all over your skin with a feather light touch, just like he knew you liked.

"I'm all yours," he whispered into your hair, and smiled as he felt you kiss his chest.

To Be Continued....

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two.  A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough.  The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything.  You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on.  Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.  

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one.  One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names.  It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early.  Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift.  It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables.  You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you.  It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos.  Turns out the customers went wild for it.  It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite.  And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies.  The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later.  You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger. 

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow.  He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully.  A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush.  Burgerless.  

“Beef’s here.  Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.”  He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to.  “And you, Bambi, change of plans.  I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence.  The kitchen?  Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.”  Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him.  No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing.  At least you hope.  Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain.  You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over.  It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position.  You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills.  He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.”  He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering.  “Don’t know why, don’t know where.  All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”  

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach.  Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.  

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”  

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place.  In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.”  He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse.  His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.  

“That’s not what I meant–”  You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat.  Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it.  This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night.  One hour, even.  You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions!  Just follow my lead.”  He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead?  There was no lead.  Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease.  At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was.  What else were you supposed to do?  

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done.  Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat.  Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath.  Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table.  When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?”  You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?”  He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu?  Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”  

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen?  Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches.  The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me.  And I know them.  I know how to butter them up.”  He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer.  “You��well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought.  Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.”  Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?”  He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.”  You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift.  And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss.  Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”  The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind.  It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.  

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights.  Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here.  Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again.  You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett.  Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.  You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast.  It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back.  You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully.  Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words.  The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A  hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing.  You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar.  It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person.  He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down.  All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.  

“They’re too close together.”  Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance. 

“Hmm?”  You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.  

“Cherries.  They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot.  The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest.  Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.  

“Oh.”  You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been.  So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations.  It was refreshing.

“There you go!”  He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created.  Your third try at it. 

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example.  Leaving your sheep unattended.”  Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.  You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth.  Well, half-lying.  You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep?  Were you the sheep?  Was this a jab at you?  You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.”  Jett defends.  You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar.  “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.”  He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie.  You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook.  Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.”  He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.  

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.”  Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back.  No complaints yet.  Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?”  Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis.  He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance.  There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you.  The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.” 

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.”  You shrug.  “Was I even any good at making a drink?”  Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.”  Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you.  “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.”  Jett chimes in.  “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.”  There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly?  Real mature.”  Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.  

His smile was cute.  

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him.  He had dimples, deep, deep dimples.  It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way.  You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl.  It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more.  Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?”  Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them.  He was asking and not demanding.  He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.”  You whisper, unsure of yourself.  A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar.  He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret.  You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double.  At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.”  Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness.  You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink.  He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!”  Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.  

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before.  You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell.  Everyone’s gonna love ya.”  Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities.  And you were okay with that.  Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself.  It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special.  He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there.  Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands.  He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times.  Always in threes.  

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want.  Really, it’s all you want.  To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again.  After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served.  But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it.  And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water.  This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.”  His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent.  But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call.  Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again.  With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month.  Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.  

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried.  He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash. 

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound.  A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf.  Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.  

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off.  His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping.  Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward.  You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.  

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box.  Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight.  Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.  

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead.  You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass.  Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down.  It was obvious he had forgotten you were there.  The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that.  If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.”  He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?”  Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.”  You chirp.  Like a pathetic little bird.  

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses.  There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here.  So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy.  Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion.  Some kind of bullshit small talk.  And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type.  In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards.  Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled.  So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.”  He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”  

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal.  And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out.  He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.  

“Every Wednesday.  The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?”  A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”  

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?”  You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”  

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words.  You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind.  Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was.  Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.”  Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears.  “That’s…nice.  Really nice.”  You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty.  His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt.  But still appealing.  And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome.  He was good looking, there was no denying that.  His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.  

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again.  Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly.  You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing.  There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself.  A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975

[bangtaninborderland]

JHS - Twisted Feelings (15)

Summary: After working at an award show for 2 years everything had become normal, idols were no longer exciting to see, performances became dull and every day blended together, that was until an unexpected man asked for your help.

Warning: themes of stalking.

A/N: it was my grandmas funeral today, I felt bad not posting. I’ll trying to get my shit together lol.

Ch.14 | MasterList | Ch.16

It had taken you twice as long to pack everything thanks to the continuous throbbing on your side and because you’d refused help. Hoseok had cancelled your Saturday session with Jungkook asking to do your Sunday session over video call.

You were thankful for the time it gave you to prepare for the move, all you had to do was find a moving company and everything was set. In all honesty you were excited about the prospect of a new apartment, it was significantly nicer than the one you had now but you couldn’t help feeling sentimental.

This was the first thing you had for yourself after leaving home. The first place you convinced a landlord to let you rent as an immature adult, the first place you’d brought a doormat for, the first place you’d had a taste of independence at.

It would be a place you missed but not a place you wished to return to.

You limped your way up the stairs, the thought of taking the elevator alone making your stomach churn uncomfortably. The halls were bare which wasn't weird for 8am on a Monday, with everyone either busy with a schedule or at home not yet being required to work. You still had 30 minutes until you were due to have your class with Hoseok which was definitely a blessing as you continued to hop your way to your ‘office’ with as little issue as possible.

“Yn?”

You nearly made, so nearly made it to relaxing in your comfortable chair for a little while before teaching all day. “Yes?”

You turn to find Jimin watching you, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine jimin-ssi.” You smiled through your teeth.

“Ah” he shook his head. “Taehyung and I already agreed on us all being Informal with each other, we are all the same age.”

“I know, I still want to be professional when it calls for it though. I just don’t want anyone thinking badly of me.” You admit, working around celebrities had meant you had to carry yourself differently least everyone suspect you to be fame hungry or whatever other accusation they could come up with. “Is everything okay?”

“I just noticed you were limping.” He gestured to your leg and you did all you could to stand straight.

“It’s fine.” You brush him off. “Just too much walking.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I remember you being checked out after the elevator accident.” He frowns as though recalling the incident.

The last thing you want is to spend any more unnecessary time doing unprofessional things in your very professional workplace. “I promise i'm okay. I was fine afterwards, I was packing all weekend and overdid it. If it gets any worse I’ll go to the doctor for a check up.”

He sighs, thankfully giving up on the matter. “Okay, Hyung should be here soon. If you need anything Jungkookie and I are going to be practising in studio B. Come and find us whenever.”

“Thank you, I will do. Have a good practice.” You wave him off as you enter your office, grunting as your body slumps rather ungracefully into the chair.

You quickly organised the papers you needed for the day, finding Hoseoks folder and setting it out on the desk ready for whenever he came.

You felt your bag vibrate against your leg, reaching down to grab your phone.

No caller ID

You tried to think about who would be calling you, it wasn’t as though an abundance of people had your number but then again with the move you’d had to contact a few moving companies and of course your new landlord.

You picked up. “Hello?��

“Blue shirt, black dress pants, you have a limp… I guess you did get hurt in the elevator after all.” The voice was distorted, it sounded like somethi he straight from a horror movie.

You hung up quickly, stuffing the phone in your bag as you checked out of the small window.

Someone was watching you, someone was watching you and knew exactly what you were wearing…did they cause the elevator accident too?

“Hey.” Hoseok knocked on the door, making you jump. “Woah I’m sorry.” He takes a step back, hands up as a surrender.

“No no.” You quickly apologise, grabbing his folder and the extra pens you’d brought. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You look scared, is everything okay?” He asks as he slides onto the chair opposite you.

“Yeah, I got lost in my own head, ignore me.” You laugh, pulling out the necessary worksheets. “I thought we could practice conversation today, it’s better if you learn the correct grammar for speaking rather than writing. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you think is best.” He agrees, taking a sip of his coffe before cleaning closer and giving you a full whiff of ‘expensive’.

You talked him through a few conversation starters, correcting him whenever he responded incorrectly before moving on to some vocabulary games, throwing in a few awful jokes along the way to make it a better experience for the rapper.

“You’re good at this.” He laughs out.

You can’t help but smile. “At what?”

“Making boring things fun. You don’t make me feel as though I can’t do it.” He explains sincerely.

“I’m happy to.” And you were, despite the fact it was your job it brought you joy. “Okay so just a few more vocabulary cards and then we will practice again and you can take a test.”

“I feel like im back in high school.” He sighs dramatically. “So much for graduating.”

“Actually, your cover of that graduation song was played at my school when we left.” You couldn’t help but recall the memory, a few of your classmates had gathered to do a little dance to it.

“Really?” He sat forward, eyes wide in surprise. “Did you listen?”

“I even danced to it.” You were fine embarrassing yourself if it made him laugh more.

“Wow.” He leans back. “I want to see.”

“Pass the test and I’ll ask my eomma to send me the video.” You shrug, sliding the paper over to him.

He looks at the paper. “What about the questions and vocabulary cards.”

“I’m making teaching fun.” You laugh, packing them away. “Good luck on your test.”

“I take it back, you are just like my high school English teacher.” He huffs playfully, picking up the pen.

He takes 25 minutes to completely finish, only asking for clarification on one question which was an improvement from your last few classes. You marked it quickly, his leg shaking in anticipation.

“So?” He asks the second you set the red pen down.

You fake a frown. “I guess I’ll text my eomma and ask.”

“Yes!” He shouts, slapping the table in excitement.

“You’ve done really well today, you should be proud of yourself. In between our classes you should listen to podcasts, YouTube videos, music, anything with English as much as possible. It may seem stupid if you can’t understand it all but I promise it is worth it.”

The timer goes off before you can give him any more ‘homework’.

“Thank you. Seriously, I had fun. I’ll try to do what you said.” He holds out his pinks. “Promise.”

“Very American.” You laugh, linking your pinky before pulling away. “Have you got a busy schedule today?”

“About 4 hours of dancing.” He groans. “And then just recording some more adlibs for the album.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing.” You give him a thumbs up as he opens the door.

“You’re welcome to come and watch if you have time, the staff are always there.” He offers.

“I’ll try and come by if I can, I was sent a few interviews to translate.” You explain, your love to watch them dance but you still didn’t feel as though it was your place. You didn’t want to seem overly comfortable when you’d only gotten the job because Hoseok had personally requested it. “You shouldn’t be late.”

“Of course not.” He checks his phone before frowning. “You’re right I should go, I’ll see you later if you’re still here when I get a break.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You wait for the door to close before relaxing on your chair with a groan, your hands instantly wrapping around your hip as though to syphon the pain away.

It took you four hours and 45 minutes to completely every single interview that had been sent to you, in hindsight you probably should have procrastinated as much as you did but you couldn’t help it.

With work out of the way your mind drifted back to the earlier phone call, it was something you should report, you knew that.

You just didn’t want to worry anyone.

“Fuck.” You hiss, rummaging through your draw, finding the painkillers you’d put in there for emergencies and taking three.

Your phone buzzed, the screen flashing up with an email notification.

You click on it, guessing it was something work related only to notice the sender being unregistered and the text box empty.

Strange.

There’s an attachment at the end of the empty text box, your stomach twisted as you opened it. The screen now displays an image of you entering the building with the words “You’re easy to find.” edited across it.

“What the fuck.” You cuss to yourself. Taking a screenshot of both the image and the email before closing the app.

If this was happening because you were working with the members then why did it feel so personal?

“You’re still here?” You looked up to find Hoseok standing in the doorway, hair and face sweaty from dance practice. “I thought you would have come to see.”

“I really wanted to.” You explain. “I just had so much work to do.”

“I understand, it’s important and you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He takes a few gulps of his water bottle. “Have you finished it all?”

“Yeah, finally.” You playfully swipe your forehead. “How was dance practice?”

He shrugs. “It was good.”

The conversation falls silent and for a few seconds you stare at each other before your phone buzzes with another notification.

Another email.

You can’t help but open it, despite how rude it may seem to be during a conversation your fingers itch to know what lies within the attachment.

It’s another image but this one had been taken days ago, one of you outside of the restaurant you had gone to with Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok.

“Hoseok?” You call out, turning your phone towards him.

He frowns as he takes the device, eyes going wide at the picture. “Is this the only one?”

“Of us? Yes.”

“And of you?” He asks, handing the phone back to you.

You contemplate lying but decide against it, you didn’t want to break the little trust you had. “I received another one earlier.”

He huffs shaking his head. “We need to take this to management, they may be able to have the email address tracked.”

“Okay let’s go.” You mumble, attempting to stand only for your leg to give out underneath you leaving you undignified as you fall to the floor.

“Shit.” Hoseok drops his water bottle as he reaches out to help you up. “Are you okay?”

“My hip.” You explain, using his body to support you. “It hurts.”

“Can I see?” He asks, resting your body against your desk.

You lift up your shirt, pushing the waistband of your pants down, a deep purple bruise scales your hip

“You have to get it checked, that looks awful.” He grabs your phone before wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lean on me, I’ll take you to the company doctor.”

You internally cringe at how another day has gone so wrong. “Okay, thank you.”

“What are friends for if not human crutches?” He laughs weakly carrying you both to the doctor.

Thankfully the room is close, the doctor rushing you in to sit on the hospital style bed. You explain what happened, answering all of his questions whilst he layers heat packs against your side.

“It’s not broken but you definitely have a hip pointer.” He explained, showing you similar images from a book. “It’s when you directly impact your hip causing bruising, pain, tenderness and it may impact your walking. You shouldn’t do much physical activity for at least a week.”

“It’s not bad.” You feel lighter knowing nothing had broken and all that could help was a little bit of rest. “Thank you for seeing me so fast.”

The doctor waves you off, giving you a prescription for some antibiotics as you left the office.

“Here let me help you back to your office.” Hoseok offers, wrapping his arm around you before you could contest against it. “I’m sorry we didn’t realise you were hurt.”

“It’s my own fault really, I pushed it too hard this weekend getting everything ready to move.” You hate the idea of him blaming himself for your own actions, you were a big girl and it was your responsibility.

He practically carried you back to your office despite your protests that it would do no good for him to be injured too only for him to shush you and insist on helping. Only when you were secured back in your seat did he drop onto the small couch in the corner. “I think you’ll have to attend a recording session tomorrow, there’s some producers coming from America and Nicole isn’t here.”

“I’ll check my schedule but I'm sure it will be on there if Nicole isn’t here.” You’d briefly met the other translator, she was kind but far too busy to make daily conversation with. You could see why they needed a secondary translator. “Don’t you have to record some things?”

“Ah.” He shakes his head. “We are going to wait until tomorrow so we can see what the producers say.”

“About the picture…” You start addressing the elephant in the room. “I think we should be careful about who we tell, I don’t understand how anyone would know where we were or what I was wearing unless they had been close to the building and possibly even had access. “I know inside leaks aren’t that uncommon.”

“It’s true but after years of experience it’s always best to tell management, if you can’t walk there I can call them and they will come here?” He offers.

Despite how cramped your tiny office would be you didn’t think you’d be able to manage another trip around the building so soon after having your hip poked and prodded at. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

He steps out of the room as he makes whatever phone call he needs to, returning a few seconds later. “They are coming down now.”

It’s relatively a quick affair, Sejin taking all the information from the email along with screenshots before explaining that he will take it to the HYBE security and protection team to have it investigated, finally explaining. “If you’re worried you should stay with someone else, a friend or family maybe. We ask that you don’t contact the police yet, we want to compile a full report before involving them.”

“Thank you Sejin-Ssi.” You nod respectfully in his direction as he leaves.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hoseok jokes trying to lighten the mood. “If you’re finished for the day I can drop you home? We have been told to rest until the producers come by tomorrow.”

You soften at the offer but still can’t find it in your to accept. “Oh no it’s absolutely fine, I can just take a taxi or the bus. I doubt it’s safe for you to come to my apartment with all these pictures being taken.”

“Please? I feel awful that you’re in pain. I know how to go undetected.” He presses.

You consider it before giving in, it was daylight and he knew what he was doing. “Okay, only if you’re sure.”

“I am. Here, let me take that.” He grabs your bag, swinging it over his shoulder before once again offering you his arm to lean on. “One time Jungkook hurt his foot before a concert and afterwards he felt awful so we took turns carrying him around.”

You both make your way into the elevator, your heart picking up as memories from the accident flash through your mind. “Did it help him feel better?”

“Nope. Jin Hyung dropped him.” Hoseok snorts at the horrified look on your face. “It was fine, everyone was fussing around him. We got him onto the couch and Jin Hyung ordered his favourite foods.”

“It worked out then?” You ask, grinning as the elevator grows closer to the ground floor.

“Sort of?” He questions. “When Jin Hyung went to get some extra napkins Jungkook poured hot sauce over his food.”

“So it was payback?” You ask through a laugh.

He shakes his head as he grins. “Not at all, Jin Hyung had been plating up Namjoons food.”

The realisation dawns on you. “So let me get this right, Seokjin-ssi dropped Jungkook-ah and then as an apology brought him his favourite food. Jungkook sabotages Seokjin-ssi’ food but it was actually Namjoon-ssi’ food?”

He hums as he helps you out to the artist only car park. “Yep, but Taehyung-ah stole a bite and he is terrible with spicy food. He ended up knocking over a pitcher of water all over the dish Jungkook had wanted.”

You take a moment to laugh at that, the thought of a joke turning into absolute chaos around the dinner table. “So then what happened?”

“We all gave up, half of the meal was drenched in cold water, the other half was cold.” He chuckles as he unlocks his car and helps you in.

You wait until he starts the car to ask any more. “What did you eat?”

“Yoongi Hyung had ordered pizza as he didn’t want fried chicken so we stole it.�� He laughs, carefully checking the street as he turns the car. “But Hyung is good, he ordered two pizzas.”

“You’ve known each other for a long time, I'm sure he probably can tell when it’s necessary.” Na-Rae has always been the same, knowing what you need before you do.

He shrugs. “I think we are all just synched. It’s a little scary how similar yet different we are.”

“Well clearly it works.” You point to the little picture resting in the back of his phone case, one of all seven of them at an award show.

He looks at you with a smile. “I guess it does. Put your address into my phone, I don’t know where im going.”

You punch in the address, the map on his phone displaying a 20 minute car journey.

The drive passes by as it had started, filled with never ending conversation and laughter. When you finally pulled up to your apartment you frowned to yourself, you didn’t want to journey nor the conversation to end. “Thank you for dropping me home.”

“Let me help you up.” He doesn’t give you a chance to argue before he is already opening your door, throwing your bag over his shower before helping you stand. “Does your building have an elevator?”

“Yeah, it's not fancy or anything though.” You explain.

You weren’t often a person who felt insecure but Hoseok was someone who had everything, whatever he owned, wore, ate, did was far more luxurious than anything you’d ever experienced. “Fancy is overrated.”

You push the broken elevator button, the machine loud as it carries you up to your floor. As soon as you step off the elevator you’re reaching for your keys, only to stop as you see your door open.

“Oh my god.” You rush over, forgetting the pain in your hip as you push it open.

You’re thankful Hoseok is there as you feel your eyes water. The apartment is wrecked, pictures of your friends and family had been smashed on the floor, the walls covered in paint and other substances you weren’t willing to touch, pillows torn open, furniture thrown across the room. Anything and everything that could be reached had been damaged.

“Come back out here.” Hoseok directs, pulling you into his arms as he dials the police.

You let yourself cry as he spoke to the operator, your heard pained with the acceptance that everything you’d worked for had been destroyed.

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || eight

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

sorry for the late chpt. I was really sick so i tried my best on this chpt. next chpt will be longer, i promise.

warnings: some level of chae-young attempting infidelity, swearing

wonwoo came home to find yn passed out on the couch.

"you okay?" - wonwoo

"i need sleep. i've been stuck at school finishing my final project and i just finished. now i have to worry about the stupid reunion in two days. i have no dress and i look like a zombie. life is great." - yn

"go take a shower. i'll get the guys to help you. jeonghan has connections." - wonwoo

the word shock wasn't enough to describe the look on everyone's faces when yn and wonwoo walked in through the door.

some background information: in the one week before this gathering, yn had completed her pieces for the museum, her final project for university and all her outstanding commissions. her exhibit had been very successful and she had earned quite a significant amount of money.

"yn. is that your boyfriend?" - aunt

"yes. this is jeon wonwoo, my boyfriend." - yn

"nice to meet you, my name is jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

"yn-noona... isn't that the streamer gameboi? you're dating Korea's number 1 [game name] player?" - younger cousin

"no way..."

the whispers in the event room got louder and louder until the people she hated finally came towards her. it was evident that chae-young was gawking at wonwoo. she didn't even bother to hide her lovestruck expression from her husband.

"so this is the new guy you have, huh yn." - mother

"good morning, i'm jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

it seemed like he had to repeat himself often today.

"what's your net worth?" a disrespectful question right off the bat was expected and both yn and wonwoo had prepared for it.

without missing a beat, wonwoo simply smiled and said, "14 million. I am sure that I have enough to take care of yn for the rest of our lives."

the jealousy that clouded chae-young's face was the best thing that yn had ever seen.

sitting at the table was very awkward because they were surrounded by whispers and glances.

“so wonwoo. what do you work as?” chae-young’s husband was actually a very nice man. he was always kind to yn and her brother and was the complete opposite of his distasteful wife.

“i’m a gamer. i’m currently in talks of joining [fictional korea no.1 pro gamer team]. that deal closes before june,” - wonwoo

“ah i see. what about you, yn? what are you working as now?” this question was on everyone’s mind. some with ulterior motives.

“up until thursday, i was a museum part-timer and finishing university. but i recently managed to sell many of my art pieces and have made quite a name for myself in the past three days. in case you all didn’t know, almost every artwork in this building was made by me over the last 4 years.” - yn

the room was silent. you could hear a pin drop and wonwoo couldn’t help but smile to himself.

let’s walk through the real train of events.

after the “fake-dating” agreement, wonwoo, minghao, mingyu and dokyeom had helped yn move every piece of her artworks over the years to minghao’s studio to sort through them. it took them almost 30 hours to categorise. by monday, they had organised the auction within the museum, an exhibition for her other works and an online bidding website for exclusive works. from tuesday to thursday, the auctions and exhibitions opened.

every one of yn’s artworks sold for incredibly high prices. this particular hotel that the family reunion was, had purchased a significant amount of said artworks.

“you mean you painted that painting of a phoenix?” - uncle

“i did that 2 years ago.” - yn

“and that ceramic heart? that was you?” - aunt

“yes.” - yn

wonwoo could not help but smile at yn’s nonchalent bragging. just then, a hand reached across to tap his.

“so~ wonwoo-oppa~ how did you and yn meet?" chae-young began to blatantly flirt with wonwoo while her HUSBAND sat helplessly beside her.

“i commissioned an art piece from her and fell in love at first sight.” wonwoo forcefully took back his hand before leaning closer to yn, earning a scowl from chae-young.

yn was’t exaggerating when she described all of chae-young’s antics.

here’s a list of the things she tried but failed to do. seduce wonwoo, yn’s “boyfriend”, spill water on yn, pretend that yn stepped on her foot on purpose, claim yn slapped her.

how embarrassing.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

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tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees @hamji-hae @hyuckxtagram

[wardenparker]

The Viper's Bride - ch 15

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Talk of previous grievances, incest reference (Lannisters gonna Lannister), blink and you'll miss it mention of homelessness. As always, there is sexy talk. It is Oberyn, after all. Summary: The day before Oberyn is to represent Tyrion in the Trial by Combat, your extended and elaborate family comes together to celebrate in anticipation of the fight. Notes: First up, I'm working extra shifts and even though it's my dream job I'm tired y'all 😂 so sorry for any errors I missed. But also! We're almost at the end here, folx! We'll have one more chapter after this and then the epilogue. Thank you all so much for sticking around to watch this polycule grow!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

It is three days before the Mountain arrives in King’s Landing. The Trial by Combat had been announced throughout the capital on the day it was agreed and the days since had been dedicated to the building of a great arena for the event. Every noble in the keep thought of it as no more than sport — every noble except the members of your party and Tyrion Lannister himself, who all had far more at stake. For the group of you, the days of anticipation have been agony.

“They are simply playing a game.” Oberyn hisses, standing in nothing but his breeches as he sharpens the spear he wishes to take into the ring. He’s already discarded several, broken in training, though he is now resting until the time where he faces Gregor. “Wishing to gain the upper hand by delaying, thinking I will become impatient.” He scoffs. “As if I have not waited years for this.”

“They have no idea of your true determination, lover.” Ellaria has seen so many shades and versions of this need for revenge that no part of it could surprise her anymore. She knows it could have been the singular focus that drive him mad, and that it is oddly fortunate that he escaped that fate.

“They do not know me or the Dornish need for justice.” He muses grimly. “They will discover it, publicly.”

“And then we will be rid of this place.” You have Margaery’s hand in yours as the two of you sit on the nearby chaise together, and you squeeze it gently in your fingers. It has only been a few days but the news of her marriage to the new Dornish lord had caused an outpouring of sentiment against her family and her specifically. Thankfully, Olenna Tyrell seemed more amused by it than anything and promised her granddaughter that they would all forget when the next scandal broke.

“I am looking forward to seeing Dorne.” She admits as she glances over to where Raeden is sprawled with Ellaria on another chaise. “I have heard about it and wish to marvel at its bright beauty myself. Especially the Water Gardens.”

“You could have your honeymoon there,” Ellaria suggests, leaning over to kiss Raeden and glad to talk about something other than tomorrow’s fight. “Locked up in your rooms fucking to your heart’s content until you are full of your lord’s babe, and then you can rest in the Gardens for all your pregnancy.”

“Perhaps I can also sample the prince’s cock once I am carrying Raeden’s heir.” She wears a small smirk as she greedily watches the lean lines of the older man. She’s sucked his cock, several times, but like Raeden with you, he would not risk her husband’s true heir being called into question.

“I would very much like to watch that,” you hum, turning your head to nip at her neck and pulling the younger woman into your lap. The two of you have become much closer in just a few days, much to the delight of your husbands.

“I will be very eager to sample your cunt.” Oberyn chuckles, looking up from his spear. “Although tonight.” He grunts, his eyes dark and lusty when he looks at Raeden. “I want to have your husband tonight.”

The statement hangs in the air between all of you, and Raeden is the first to nod. “You will. You will have me.”

It has been a long time coming, Margaery knows this, even with as short a time as she has been tangled in this group. Not once has she felt slighted because she does not bear any marks on her skin from the four of you. “It will be a night to celebrate.” She decides. “In anticipation of your victory.”

“You will witness true victory tomorrow.” Ellaria agrees, fire in her eyes as she gazes up at Oberyn. “They all will.”

He’s sure of himself, almost to the point of brashness, but he has also commanded his own company with the Second Sons. Survived the fighting pits and his reputation was well earned. Still, he is grateful for the support of his soulmates and his lovers. “Yes they will.”

“We should feast tonight.” The idea had formed in your mind yesterday and lingered, something that you have learned to pay attention to. The idea that it could – however unlikely he seems to think the possibility – be your last night with your husband makes you want to sob like you have just heard the news that he would be champion all over again.

Oberyn turns towards you, watching you for a moment before he nods. “Get dressed, Princess.” He decides. “You and I will go to the market and order our feast.”

There is no reason to point out that Cal or Leyth could easily see the Dornishman in the market. Everyone here knows that. But he wants to spend time with you, and you want more than anything to hold his arm while you walk and pretend it is simply a normal day. “I will only take a few minutes,” you promise him, pulling yourself up off the chaise and away from a reluctant-to-let-go Margaery.

“Take your time.” He smirks. “Wear something beautiful.” He wants you to be seen, wants to be seen with you. Firmly believing appearances can affect the memory of the day.

“I have just the thing.” Enough weeks had passed in the Capitol that you had been able to order gowns from a dressmaker with knowledge of Dornish fashion, and you had intended to save it for your arrival in your new home, but this seems far more important. You disappear into the next room to extract it from your trunk with a smile. Oberyn will be quite surprised.

Oberyn sets the spear down and walks over to the table that has a bowl of clean water with soap and cloths next to it. As much sex as everyone has been indulging in, it had seemed prudent to keep the water on hand. He starts to bathe his chest, sweaty from the day and wishing to freshen up while he waits.

The group of you have all packed. Determined to leave King’s Landing in just two days’ time, most things have been put away for the journey. What is left to amuse yourselves with is sex, books from the keep’s library — and usually more sex. The difference is only when Oberyn and Raeden are in the practice ring, but when they return they are usually ravenous for company.

It takes little more than ten minutes for you to emerge from the chamber in the gown that you had carefully selected the colors and fabrics of weeks earlier — gold trim making the colors of fire seem to dance with every step you take. The sheer outer layer sparkles and shines, and the layer underneath flows while still showing off your figure. It preserves that feeling of modesty that you are accustomed to with significantly less fabric and a form unmistakably Dornish flare. Even your slippers are more like the ones Ellaria wears each day, leather platforms tying halfway up your calves with amber lacing. “Are you ready, my prince?”

“Star.” Oberyn’s eyes widen and he groans as he takes in your appearance. “I will have to wear my sword so no one could try to steal you from me.” He hums, cock twitching in his breeches. “The seamstress who made this for you deserves every coin you paid her and then a hefty sum.”

"There are others," you promise him, glad to see the light in his eyes even over something as simple as a dress. "I gave her double her fee when I saw how fine the work was. Do you...do you truly like it? I know you have said many times that you wished I wore more Dornish style gowns."

“If I could show you now how much I like it, we would not feast tonight.” He growls, fingers tracing over your bare shoulder and sighing softly at your softness.

"You will show me later." Later, when he has all of you at his beck and call for whatever it is he might desire. But for now you take his hand and kiss his palm tenderly. "Let us go and walk. We will show the capitol that Dorne is not afraid."

“That’s my girl.” He curls his arm up and wraps your hand around it, looking at Margaery, Raeden and Ellaria. “We will be back. And I will want all of us in bed. So make sure you do not tire yourselves out.” He chuckles.

"I swear it," Ellaria chuckles, with one hand over her heart. "I will teach our newlyweds about edging if they need attention."

Margaery tilts her head curiously and smirks at Ellaria. “What is that?” She asks innocently.

The chuckle turns to a throaty, pleased laugh, and Ellaria sits up to kiss Oberyn before bringing Margaery into her arms. "Go and enjoy yourself, lover," she tells him with a lascivious grin. "We will be well occupied here."

“Come, Star.” Oberyn smiles as he guides you out of the chambers and immediately runs into one of Cersei’s servants. “Splendid.” He hums, leaning into the girl. “More water is needed.” He tells her. “There will be an orgy in these rooms tonight.”

She looks positively affronted by the notion but nods nervously, scurrying away as fast as her feet will carry her. "I suppose it does not matter that Cal could easily have fetched our water?" You ask, raising one eyebrow at him as you continue down the hallway. "You would far rather that it get back to Cersei's ears."

“Absolutely.” He chuckles and starts the slow, unconcerned stroll with you towards the front doors of the Keep. “She will either stay far away or have to come interrupt. Either way, I will now that she is wondering who is in the chambers moaning.”

"Whomever we want to be." A few months into your arrangement - and your marriage - it is safe to say that you are far more comfortable with yourself and with sex than ever before. "And that bothers her, too."

“I would like Cal and Leyth with us tonight, my love.” He ventures, patting your hand. “Do you have any objections? Only if they wish to join.” He won’t force them to, of course. He wouldn’t do that, but he wants to touch them again and tonight seems to be a fine night to do so.

"No objections at all." He could ask you for the moon and you would only tell him that you need to find a ladder tall enough. "They have missed being invited to your bed."

“As long as you are comfortable with it.” There has been plenty to keep him occupied and satisfied throughout the last weeks, especially discovering the relationship with you, so he had not ventured to invite anyone else.

“My love,” you squeeze his arm gently under your hand as you walk together. “There is very little you could ask for tonight that I would hesitate to grant you. I hope you understand that.”

Exiting the keep, Oberyn is quiet for a little while, thinking of what he wishes to say. It is only when the crowds begin to gather, farther away from the castle does he begin. “My love,” he sighs softly. “I have sent word to my brother.” He tells you. “Informing him of our valid marriage and my expectant heir.”

“That is good.” Once, he had thought to breeze into Sunspear and amuse himself with informing Doran of what was technically your elopement. The fact that he has done otherwise is sobering, but somehow comforting in its realism. “I am sure he will be very glad of the news when it arrives, considering how upset you were when you left Dorne.”

“Word would have already reached him.” He tells you quietly. “I sent a raven the day I took on being Tyrion’s champion.” He admits, looking past the merchants stalls as they come into view towards the harbor. “I also made sure that Raeden’s house is secure. My brother would do right by him.”

“Thank you, my love. I know it means the world to him.” It sounds as though Oberyn has been getting his affairs in order, and the implications of that make your shoulders tighten and your limbs feel heavy as you walk together. Tomorrow he will fight to the death to honor and revenge this sister, and the terrifying truth is that he could be the one to lose. As cocky - and as talented a fighter - as he is, Oberyn is not a stupid man. “Should the need come, I will make sure your Sand Snakes are as well cared for as you could ever wish. Ellaria and I will not let them want for anything.”

“I will be there to see them.” Oberyn promises. “However.” He slides his arm down to take your hand in his and bring it up to his lips. “Every Dornish lord here, all their men, will see you safely from the city.” He promises. After he had accepted the role, he had gone to see them, without Raeden so he could speak frankly to them. He wanted to make sure the other lords would wholly accept your lover as Lord Sunstone. They were happy to have a new lord amongst the ranks, especially one who chose Dorne. “You need not fear any abuse.”

“I do not.” And that, thankfully, you can count on the truth. The lords of Dorne had been surprised by your sudden appearance in Oberyn’s life but accepted you fully. “And I know that you will do everything in your power to come home with us. I do not doubt that even for a moment.” You do not doubt it, but you have learned a healthy fear of the unknown.

“I will.” He agrees, squeezing your hand and smirking at you. “Let is plan this feast. I wish to make sure that we have a night to remember.”

“It would be impossible to forget a night with you.” As sentimental a thing as it is to say, you truly do mean it. Oberyn has changed so much about your life and all of it has been for the better — how could you forget even a moment of that?

“I wanted to tell you this privately.” He admits quietly. “I know that you are scared and I will win, but I thought it would making you feel better. In case the worst happens.”

“I am scared.” There is no use denying that and you would not be cruel enough to disrespect him like that. “But only because I know that life is unpredictable. And I am grateful that you are open with me. That you understand it is not that I do not believe in you. Because that is the furthest from the truth.”

“All men must have some fear.” Oberyn admits quietly. “Do not have fear is to not wish to live. And then you have already died.” He watches the people that move past the two of you and hums. “The true test of a man is conquering that fear and not letting it turn him into a coward. Using the fear for his own purposes.”

“I will have to remember that.” In the meantime, because the fear you have is for him, you lace your fingers together tightly as you walk. “May I ask you something, love?”

“Anything.” He insists. “You know that, my love. I will hide nothing from you.”

“You may object to the request and I would understand that.” He nods when your eyes meet his and you return the gesture, biting your lip slightly. “I—it is only that…I cannot stop thinking of the baby.” So much so that your hand has been unconsciously resting on the side of your still unchanged belly as you walk. “If anything were to happen to you tomorrow…I wondered if we might be able to choose a name? You should know your ninth daughter’s name, if the worst happens.”

“I think we should also pick out a son’s name.” Oberyn grunts, even though he is smiling. “For the boy the babe might be.”

“I think if I were to bear you a son, no one would believe he was yours,” you half-joke, glad that Oberyn is humoring your anxieties and making the topic sweet instead of calling out your nerves.

“They will when he looks just like me and fights at the first insult to his mother.” He predicts with a proud grin.

“Perhaps that would be enough.” You smile at the thought, though it is a thin thing. Somehow in your heart you know that carrying another of his daughters is more likely than anything. Still, it is best to be prepared. “But you would not have him named for you.”

“I believe the boy needs to forge his own reputation, not live in the shadow of mine.” Names have meaning in this time, and he would not saddle his son with his. Giving him freedom to be whomever he chose to be. “That is why I would not name a son after me.”

“Then you would not want to name him after any family? Our only after you?” The logic does make sense to you, and you nod as you walk. The marketplace is open and though people may stare you have learned to pay them no mind.

“Only after myself.” He pauses and turns towards you. “But I forbid you naming the child after your bitch of a mother.” He warns, not wishing the revisiting the past every time you looks upon a girl with that name.

“I would rather name her after my father’s soulmate that I never even met then name her after the woman who abused me,” you agree, shaking your head sadly.

“Apologies, my love.” Oberyn leans in to kiss your lips softly. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“Mentioned what?” Willing yourself to simply forget the mention of her and move on, you offer Oberyn a bright smile and steal another kiss. “I believe we were choosing names for a son?”

“Do you have any ideas?” He asks curiously. Wondering if you had imagined the names of your children before now.

"I used to tease Antony that I would name my son for him any time he did me a small favor." The sweet, nostalgic memory of an older brother doting on his younger sister brings a bittersweet smile to your face. As much as you might have told your brothers that they drove you crazy, you miss them desperately. "Anytime he did something as little as bringing me a pencil to write with, I would dramatically declare that I would honor him with naming my son Antony. It was...just a silly thing. But I suppose I never thought of anything beyond that."

“Would you wish to use that name or a piece of it?” He asks, smiling softly at the image of a young girl promising her older brother to name her son after him.

"Antony is a good name." Strong but not harsh, you had always thought it a very nice name aside from all the of the teasing. "And...Antonia is lovely, as well?"

“Naming our daughter after your brother?” He barks out a laugh even as he seriously thinks about it. “I like it.” He admits. “Antonia Martell.” He shrugs. “Rolls off the tongue better than my thought towards a name.”

"What was yours?" He has named eight daughters already, you cannot discount any ideas he might have with so much practice behind him.

“Marella.” He shrugs slightly, unconcerned. He will name the babe whatever makes you happy and be proud of it.

"Oh, that's lovely." Rolling it over in your mind though, you frown a moment later. "Although Marella Martell would be quite the tongue twister."

“Technically, she would be Princess Marella of Dorne, when people address her.” He teases. “But Antonia is much nicer.”

"I wish she was here already." It feels like a ridiculous thing to lament, but you wish it so that he could hold her. Because the fear that Oberyn might never meet his next child is creeping up your neck as if it were high tide on the rocks.

“She will come when she is ready.” Even if he teases you about giving him a male heir, he feels like you are carrying a girl. “Squawking and screaming as she shakes her fist at the world.”

You squeeze his hand again as you swallow your fears, and turn into the marketplace with him. “She will be so adored.”

“By so many.” He agrees, sighing softly. “I cannot wait to show you Dorne.”

“I hope you will show me everything.” In the weeks and months since your marriage, you have become more and more eager to see your new home. “Every time Ellaria speaks of the Water Gardens, I ache to see them.”

“We will swim in the gardens naked.” He tells you with a grin. “After the children are asleep.”

“I see you already have plans for conceiving your tenth child,” you tease, knowing he means sooner than that.

“Perhaps.” He chuckles and reaches over to rub your stomach. “I do not think we will stop at one child.”

“I certainly will not stop sharing your bed.” You could be more vulgar, but you are in public.

“It would be a dour day when you decided to stop sleeping in my bed.” He grunts. He does not think that would ever happen, despite originally thinking you would never share his bed.

“Dour would be correct,” you hum with equal dislike for the idea. “The only way it would happen would be very sad circumstances.” Very sad as in one of your deaths, and you are reminded again what tomorrow morning will bring.

“Do not think on it.” He can tell you are worrying about tomorrow again. He cannot give you more guarantees than he already has, and he will not insult you by demanding you not worry.

"I will try." Strolling together a little further, the stall where the Dornishman you have come to know as Salin sells his prepared foods is swarming with people. Since word had gotten out that Prince Oberyn enjoyed his recipes, he had been receiving more and more business.

“Salin.” Oberyn greets the man warmly, like he would any of his countrymen. “How does your day fare?”

"Very well, my prince and princess." Salin has come to recognize the sight of all of Oberyn's household, and always welcomes all of you with open arms. Today, he reaches for a fried pastry full of chopped roasted nuts, honey, and sweet dates and offers it to you. "I have heard a rumour, your Graces," he admits, smiling broadly when you accept the pastry with glee. "That you are to be congratulated?"

The prince huffs, even as he grins proudly. “Which one of them told you?” He asks, sure that Ellaria would have mentioned it since you were craving dates lately.

"I was not sworn to secrecy, so I do not fear telling you that it was your lovely paramour." He smiles even more broadly and puts one hand over his heart. "I would like to offer, if it pleases you, to send the recipe for my date cake with you when you return to Sunspear. Your cook will have no trouble recreating it, and I was told the princess enjoyed it very much."

“I would be very grateful for it.” Oberyn nods and tilts his head towards the man. “If you ever wish to come back to Dorne, I will give you a place in the palace to cook for our house.”

"You are..." Salin swallows thickly, looking between the two of you. "Your Grace is most generous." His voice wavers and his other hand comes up to his heart. "I left my mother and siblings there when I came to King's Landing and...until your patronage...did not have the money for passage to go home again."

Oberyn frowns, hating King’s Landing as much as the next Dornishman and looks towards you. “We are leaving King’s Landing. After the tournament.” He informs the merchant who has provided so many meals for his lovers and his wife. “The ship will be crowded, but I am sure we can find room for you if you wish to sail home?” He asks.

"I do." He murmurs, expression still aghast. "I wish to return home more than anything." The man looks as though he could cry, and something inside of you cracks a little, making your reach out to gently squeeze his arm in reassurance. "We had come to ask you to prepare us one last feast, but this is far better. We are happy to have you return with us."

“I-- I will prepare you the feast that would put all feasts to shame.” He agrees quickly. If he is leaving, he will need to deplete his stores. “And if your offer is genuine, I would be honored to prepare meals on the ship for your family.”

You do not even need to look over at Oberyn to know that the offer was real, but still your eyes find your husband's profile and you nod to Salin with a smile. "We will be the ones who are honoured, Salin. And thank you for this," you hold up the pastry, which you have already tried a bite of and will have demolished the sweet treat in less than another minute. "Truly, your talent is unparalleled. You either had a remarkable teacher or your talents are a gift from the gods."

“My mother.” He informs you proudly. “She runs a small tavern in Sunspear.” He beams and nods towards your pastry. “Although that is something special. It is a treat that she had made for her soulmate.” He frowns slightly but recovers to smile at the both of you.

"He had very good taste." The shadow that falls over his face does not escape you, but you do not feel your have the right to press. Instead you simply add, "And must have been a very lucky man."

“Perhaps.” That is all he will say about the man he has never met, although he looks back at the pair of you expectantly. “Do you wish me to just send whatever I make or is there something special you wish to have?” He’s not unaware that Oberyn will be in the tournament tomorrow, that he could possibly die. So tonight is a celebration feast in preparation for his victory.

"The prince favours your spicy lamb, but everything else is up to you. Whatever you feel your finest or favourite dishes are to prepare. And there are seven of us, so be generous." Everything he makes is delicious, so you have no doubt that it will all be wonderful.

Bobbling his head eagerly, Salin immediately starts to think about what he can send to the Keep. “I will have it prepared. Is there a time you will need it?”

"No sooner than usual," you assure him, knowing that your intention to eat and spend the rest of the night indulging in pleasure is shared by everyone in your small household.

“I will deliver it myself.” He promises, shaking his head when Oberyn pulls out his coin purse. “No, please. It would be my pleasure.”

"We would be remiss in offering you a place in our household and then not paying you for that talent of yours we so appreciate." The shake of your head matches his and you reach out to touch his arm again. "Please. Allow us to show you the respect you deserve."

“You are kind and gracious.” His lip trembles slightly. “My mother will be very grateful to have her oldest son back.”

Nearer now to being a mother than you ever have been before in your life, you already cannot imagine what separating from your oldest child would be like, other than being positively devastating. '"Whatever brought you to King's Landing, I hope that it was worth the trip, and that returning home will bring you just as much joy."

“My trip was in vain but I learned a valuable lesson.” He promises. “The return trip home will be much sweeter, although your patronage has made my little stand a success.”

"Perhaps the gods have given you something just as valuable that you have not yet realized." Wishing not to leave the man feeling poorly about anything at all - if you can help it - you find yourself wishing it was as easy as offering to spend time with him. To listen to his story. To find out what had happened and see if there is some way you can help. But again, you remind yourself not to force the situation. You are already giving him a way to return to his family, and that seems to be a help in its own right.

Salin nods and smiles at the Princess of Dorne and her husband. “The gods gave surely shined down in my humble soul.” He acknowledges before handing you another pastry. “For your walk, your highness.”

“You are very generous, my friend. Thank you.” With a nod of your head, you and Oberyn continue walking, leaving Salin to his work. There is much to be done before tonight, apparently, because he disappears into the back of his stall immediately. “He seems to be very glad to go home again.”

“Is there anywhere else you wish to go?” Oberyn asks you indulgently. The dress you are wearing is fine and causing many heads to turn, making him grip your hand proudly as you continue towards the water.

“I would visit every seller here just to prolong our walk,” you admit, nibbling at the treat that Salin handed you as you walk hand in hand with Oberyn. “Perhaps we could visit our smith friend once more before we leave?” An amused smile forms on your lips when his eyes slip past your face to your chest. “Or would you like to also offer passage to my dressmaker, since you seem so fond of her work?”

He snorts, and sends you an amused smirk. “If I could cart all the talented workers away from King’s Landing as a strike against the Lannisters. I would.” He jokes. “But perhaps we should see what other baubles we can purchase for amusement.”

“I know one that would amuse both you and Raeden.” You hum, making yourself walk by the bookseller’s stall without stopping. If you do, you might simply stay there the whole day. “I wonder if the goldsmith might have another necklace of thin chains for Margaery to match with myself and Ellaria.”

Oberyn grunts, his cock twitching and he hums in agreement. “It would be a very pleasant view, three gorgeous women, completely naked except for the chains around their necks.”

“It would be lovely to see.” You and Margaery seem to be the only ones who were surprised by how close you have become and how quickly, and your may or may not be looking forward to the sight yourself.

“Perhaps there is another bauble we can find for the three of you to wear tomorrow.” Oberyn muses. “I wish to see all three of you in very revealing dress. You will be on the sidelines.”

"We will wear anything you choose, love." It is very literally the least that the three of you can do, and you know that although you will all - Raeden included - be worried, you will be a united front of pride for Dorne.

“Good.” While there will be some who do not care what the lovers of Oberyn wear, just the three- four- of you being there will be an insult to the people who matter most in the private portion of this skirmish. Until he brings all their sins to the light for the Seven Kingdoms to see.

"It will be no small statement to have Margaery beside us. For the four of us to appear united in appearance as well?" It is an incredibly simple yet effective means of making your delegation seem all the more powerful, and you know that every small tactic counts. "It will disarm some of those in the capital who foolishly think Dorne to be less civilized."

“Exactly.” He is always pleased with you when you know why he is doing something. The cleverness of your minds makes him think that you would have been named your father’s heir of you had been born a man.

"Would you have us matching?" You ask him, thinking that that would take some effort to achieve by the morning. "Or wearing an emblem somehow?"

“Perhaps we will find something. If not, then there are…dresses in my trunk you could wear.” He admits with a small chuckle.

"There are more dresses in your trunks?" By this time you would have assumed that Ellaria had wore every stitch of clothing brought from Dorne to the northern capital, but apparently that assumption would be incorrect.

“If you wish to call them dresses.” He smirks. “There is more skin showing than fabric.”

"If only my belly were already swollen," you smirk up at him as you slow in your walk and come to a stop at the jeweler's stall. "That would be quite a sight to be shown off."

“One I will love to see when it happens. Especially since the dress will show off your belly.” Oberyn’s eyes narrow as he takes in the jewels on display.

"Your Graces." The man bows deeply to see you approach, the sight of the two of you together being most welcome to him. He knows it will end in a large purchase, if nothing else, and others had taken notice of the Dornish prince's patronage of his business. It had brought him enormous good fortune in the months since your first visit. "What is it you search for today?"

“Another necklace.” Oberyn informs him with a smirk. “Just like the one for my wife and my paramour. I wish to clasp it around our other lover’s neck.”

"I confess, I wondered if you might desire another." Disappearing from view for just a few seconds, the merchant comes back again with a small wooden box. He lifts the lid, showing off another glinting necklace of delicate chains. "Your reputation, after all, precedes you."

“Do you have a smaller version of this?” Oberyn asks as he traces the necklace with his fingers. “More…masculine?”

"Smaller as in…fewer strands?" The man's head tilts to one side, making sure he understands correctly.

“Fewer strands, more…” he turns to you with a frown. “I want one for Raeden.” He tells you.

"I assumed as much, when you wanted one more masculine." The expression on his face is half frustration and half plaintive, and you cup his cheek in your hand lovingly. "Do you want it to be worn under his robes tomorrow, or do you want it to be worn in bed, my love?"

“Both.” He grunts, looking at you with dark, lust filled eyes. “But I want him to wear it tomorrow. Showing on his bare chest to match your. United and under House Martell’s protection.”

"The prince desires another necklace with fewer, thicker chains," you inform the jeweler, squeezing Oberyn's hands in yours and pressing a kiss to his lips. "And it should be made to accommodate a broader chest."

The jeweler has questions but he keeps them to himself. Although the design might be on display after the custom jewelry is sold and discreetly mentioned that the Prince of Dorne bought for a male lover. It might be of interest to the right discreet party.

“It will be needed by tonight.” Neither you nor Oberyn would be willing to wait until morning and risk not having it be ready, but you are certain that Oberyn will want Raeden to wear the chains tonight, as well.

“Of course.” He knows now that the prince will not blink at the cost so he does not even warn him about the extra price for expedited work. The prince is a man who wants what he wants when he wants it with no regard to cost.

“What other new baubles have you? Any of your clever wife’s designs?” The puzzle ring that you gave to Oberyn is a favorite, and your eyes start to search through the trays of fine pieces right away.

“There is a wide selection.” He agrees eagerly, rushing over to show them to you. “Your interest and admiration has made her designs improve and her love of it increase.”

“I am very glad to hear it.” Oberyn has begun searching a different part of the stall, and you follows the merchant’s lead to look at the designs that his wife has made. “What is the piece she is most proud of? I wish to see it.”

“There is a bracelet design that my wife is very pleased with.” The latest designed may have been with a slight Dornish flair due to the Prince’s patronage. The bracelets have several bangles wove in between each other and can be pulled apart, but when they are in a solid mass, they give the illusion of being one solid piece, the bursting sun of Dorne etched into the gold.

“Oh, she is clever!” You hum happily when the merchant presents you with the multi-strand bracelet. “And your craftsmanship is exquisite, ser. It seems that no matter you you make, you and your wife are quite the formidable team.”

Delighted that you like it, he moves to grab the other ones. "I took the liberty of making several." He informs you. "Because I know that your group likes to have matching sets."

“We certainly do.” The stone in the middle of each Dornish sun is the only difference between the bracelets - one deep green, one pink-red, one orange, one yellow, one milky white, one rich blue, and one clear purple. They are stunning together and you beckon Oberyn closer to look. “There are seven, my love.” Your face shines with delight.

"Why seven?" Oberyn asks curiously. He could see if there were eight, for his daughters or two because of his last order of necklaces.

“You, Raeden, and Cal.” You have three bracelets beside your right hand, and then beside your left you point out the other four. “Ellaria, me, Margaery, and Leyth.”

"No, my love." He grunts. "I was asking the jeweler why he crafted seven bracelets."

The jeweler in question blushes, clearing his throat at the prince’s pointed attention. He was not going to call attention to the number after you seemed so delighted with the fact that there were seven. “In truth, your Grace?” He would shove his hands in his pockets in embarrassment if he had any. “There are three or four more being finished just this day. I thought to have a wide collection of colors for your Graces to choose from, that is all.”

"I will take them all." Oberyn decides, looking back at you to find you smiling down at the bracelet with a dreamy expression on your face. "What do you think, my love? For any others we might bring into our fold?" He hums. "Or perhaps..." He slides his hand around your waist and your stomach. "Perhaps as gifts for our children."

“They seem fitting for your girls, don’t you think?” If there are so many, that is. The idea of more cannot be banished from your mind. You must remember that Oberyn has a plan. “Hopefully they all have different favourite colors.”

The mention of ‘his girls’ makes Oberyn’s head snap back to the jeweler. “These bracelets.” He tells him. “I want eight more. Except instead of bursting suns, I want snakes. Coiled snakes with the different colored jewel in the eye.”

“It…is too much to do in one night.” The jeweler tells him with obvious regret and just a touch of fear. “Perhaps it could be done in two if everyone worked through the night…but I know that you are not one to wait, your Grace.”

"We will be leaving for Dorne in two days." He tells the jeweler. "Have them done by the time the ship leaves the harbor and I will give you a bonus to make it worth the effort."

“Yes, your Grace.” The man bows rather frantically, scooping up the few things that he had already talked to the two of you about, and dashing into the back of his stall. When his apprentice appears just a few moments later, you smile with the knowledge that he is going straight to work. It is not even the man’s own son he has sent to man his stall. He will be working well into the night.

"I will give my sand snakes the bracelets he is crafting now." He tells you with a proud smirk. "They will love them." He had been searching for gifts for his girls, always bringing them something when he has to travel and the bracelets would be perfect.

“They will make a beautiful gift, my love.” For his eight - soon, nine - children, a token from the trip when their father wed will hopefully be something to celebrate and not frown upon. “They will look well with the necklaces that Ellaria is bringing to each of your daughters.”

“She loves all of them.” He hums happily, smiling softly. “You will love them too, I hope.”

“I have no doubt.” One of your hands rests gently on his arm and you smile. “I cannot wait to meet them.”

“They will be waiting for us when we arrive in Sunspear.” He informs you with complete surety. “Expect many questions.”

“I expect they will have many.” Just imagining it makes you giggle, thinking of the youngest ones especially. The older girls you will be able to be more straightforward with. “Luckily we are bringing them a new grandfather as well, who will dote on them endlessly no matter who their mother is.” Being able to acquaint your father with the situations that resulted in all of Oberyn’s daughters’ births, he has been excited to meet them ever since. Once he saw how loving your husband can be and how happy you are, nothing else mattered.

“He had been surprisingly welcoming.” He had anticipated a bit of distance from his wife’s father, but he has been to dinner several times. “He will enjoy Dorne.” He frowns slightly. “I have written my brother about Marlee as well. To see if we can find her.”

“You are entirely too good, my love.” Losing her — and discovering why he had lost her — has been a reopened wound for your father, who has clung to all news and stories of Dorne in response. As though he might hear her name in one of them unwittingly.

“There is no stone I would leave unturned if my soulmate was lost to me.” He tells you, his hand sliding along your arm to tangle his fingers with yours.

“I believe I can confidently say that neither Ellaria nor I will ever leave your side.” Still, your fingers tangling tightly in his as though trying to convince him. “There is nothing in the Seven Hells that could ever tempt me away, my love.”

“That is good.” He squeezes your hand and smirks. “I will be very satisfied with being surrounded by my soulmates and our lovers for a long time.”

“Our trip home will be an interesting one, with so many of us in such close company,” you smirk up at your husband as you walk. “I imagine we will spend much time in our quarters.”

Oberyn chuckles. “I do not think Cersei imagined her gift to her daughter would ferry so many of her people away on it.”

“I suppose I can only be grateful that my family had a long-standing connection to Dorne and not to Casterly Rock.” You shudder slightly at the idea and cringe. “Imagine my mother’s victory if she had sold me to the Lannisters instead.”

“I would not wish such a fate on you.” He growls, protective of you despite the fact you are safe in his arms. “A husband with one hand who fucks his sister.”

“I would not wish such a fate on anyone.” It would have been her triumph, to manage something like that. You know how lucky and how grateful you are to have been promised to Oberyn. “I am grateful to be madly in love with my husband instead.”

“What is not to love?” He asks arrogantly with a small wink. He looks around the market again and then turns you back towards the books. “Should you not pick another dozen books for the trip to Dorne?”

“You have been so generous with growing my library that my trunks may weigh more than Margaery’s dowry.” Still, you are not about to protest. Not for a moment. “I may spend the entire journey home with my nose in a book.”

“The captain I have hired for the trip home is strong. He will have crew to move them.” He’s unconcerned with that, more interested in your happiness than anything.

“My husband indulges me.” And the adoration on your face is very clear as he leads you back toward the bookseller. “He is soft and tender hearted and sweet.”

“If you think me soft, do not be frightened tomorrow.” He jokes. He knows that you mean he is soft when it comes to you and Ellaria and how he indulges you.

“Ellaria has told me about Mereen,” you admit, leaning close to his side as you come to stop in front of the bookseller’s stall. “How you fight. What to expect.”

“I have survived many battles.” He nods. “I expect to survive many more.” He let’s go of your hand and pats your ass affectionately. “Go find the books you wish to read to me while you are sitting on my cock later on.”

******

There is a thickness, a palpable tension in the air, when you and Oberyn return from the marketplace. The jeweler had already sent by his delivery of the things Oberyn purchased which were already made, and the note from him listed the price for the items being created, which Oberyn barely glanced at. The delivery of your books, the scarves you found for Ellaria and Margaery, and the baby blanket made by the dressmaker who had crafted your Dornish-style gowns — all of it is waiting for you when you finally return. But the truest shock is that your father has apparently been spending time with Raeden, Ellaria, and Margaery this afternoon.

He hugs you when you drift into the room on Oberyn’s arm and shakes Oberyn’s hands warmly. “I thought I would pay my respects tonight instead of distracting you with well wishes in the morning.” He tells your husband honestly.

While he had not thought much of your father when he first met the man, he had been sorely impressed with his insight since your mother’s departure. They had several frank and interesting conversations and Oberyn had refrained from engaging in his normal pleasures that he might with another lord, taking him to a whorehouse. “Many thanks.” He offers with a smile. “Join us, we are having a Dornish feast delivered by the best cook outside of her boarders.” He boasts. “In fact, I have offered him a place in the palace kitchens and he will sail with us when we depart.”

“We are bringing Salin home with us?” Ellaria sounds delighted with the idea and her fingers trace up your arm. “I think the princess had a hand in this. For the love of date cakes,” she teases.

“It was Oberyn,” you admit, laughing at how right Ellaria is about your craving. “But I am certainly not upset about it.”

“I would be delighted to stay.” Your father perks up at the mention of Dornish food. “It has been some time since I have had a good Dornish meal. The cooks would alter the recipes at home to their tastes.” He huffs, aware that his mother had written them done very specifically.

“Salin is extraordinarily talented.” Even Margaery is looking forward to the meal, having been fully converted to the cuisine of her new home with the first meal she tried. “He prepared the feast we are the night Raeden and I were wed and I have never tasted anything more magnificent.”

“Then I am eager to sample this cooking. My Marlee was a magnificent cook and I would often tease her that she would make a fortune selling her food.” Your father hums, knowing no one would fault him for speaking of his soulmate.

“I would like to hear more of her, if you are willing.” Speaking of Marlee seems to soothe your father and you must admit to being curious about the woman who could have been your mother.

“She was always smiling, always humming a little tune under her breath while she worked.” He tells you. “Making these delicious little tarts. I could eat a hundred of them.”

"How did you meet?" There is tea from the keep's kitchens while you await Salin's arrival with your dinner, and you offer a seat in front of the fire to your father.

“In Dorne.” He looks over at you fondly, smiling with the bittersweet smile of a man who is remembering a better time. “We had traveled back for my grandfather’s funeral. Mother was beside herself and my father could not leave. So I volunteered to escort her.” He had been brash and young, but already a good soldier. Handy with a sword. “I was bored by the grieving in the house, so I had snuck down to the kitchens.” He sighs. “She was baking. Flour on her cheek and singing a song as she mixed bread dough.”

“She worked for Grandmother’s family?” That is a surprise, and certainly makes you wish you had been bold enough to tell him about Raeden sooner. He would have been far more sympathetic than you knew.

“Yes.” He nods, his eyes sliding over to where Raeden is sitting with Margaery. “Although I think your path was leading you here.” He tells you, knowing what is whirling in that clever mind of yours. “She was beautiful. Raven black hair and yet…she had green eyes. The color of a watery jade.”

“So you fell in love over a secret meeting and a loaf of bread?” There is nothing sad or even melancholy in the life you have now, so you try to keep the conversation happy.

“The scar on my neck.” He pulls down the edge of his undershirt and his robe to expose the old, silvery scar. “It was new and fresh. Her dress showed it.” He shares a knowing grin with Oberyn. “She was mine from the first moment.”

“That sounds terribly romantic,” Margaery sighs, still softly envious of anyone who knows their soulmate or who has ever known them. “To have such definitive proof. To never wonder. It sounds remarkable.”

Her husband tightens his hold around her, offering her comfort. Everyone in this room knows that Margaery’s soulmate died without her ever knowing who it was. “If matching marks are ever discovered.” He murmurs softly. “They will be welcomed into our home.” It is the least he could offer considering the two sets of marks he bears, and the relationships he has with both women.

“If I ever have a set of marks appear?” Margaery nuzzles against him, glancing over at you before looking back to his eyes. “I hope that they will be yours or Star’s.”

“I would wear three sets of scars proudly.” He murmurs, bumping his nose against her cheek and then kissing her lips.

“As would I.” If the gods ever saw fit to give you three soulmates, you could not be happier to have one of them be Margaery.

“You are too generous.” Despite her inexperience, she has come to love to dynamic between the three of you especially, although she also enjoys time with Ellaria and Oberyn. Even if Oberyn had not yet fucked her.

“The gods have twice blessed you, pumpkin.” Your father chuckles. He still not quite understand the dynamic at play, but has decided that as long as you are happy, he does not need to. “To heap more upon you would be showing favoritism.”

“I would not expect anything less from gods concerning Star.” Ellaria chuckles quietly. She winks at you. “Perhaps the gods will send another wonderful person into Margaery’s life to add to our blessings.”

Glancing over at your husband, you bite back a grin and you wink at his as he so often does to you. "We will need a bed the size of you entire chamber if we continue to add members to our group."

You father clears his throat, reminding himself that he does not need to ask questions about things he does not wish to know. You are happy, and that is a rarity in life. “Dinner will be delightful, I’m sure.”

"It will." Leyth appears in the doorway, blessedly distracting from your embarrassment and ushering in Salin with his baskets upon baskets of delicious food.

“Salin, you outdo yourself every time.” Ellaria rises graceful and moves to greet the man with a charming smile and a hug. “Oberyn tells us you will be sailing back to Dorne with us?”

"The prince has most graciously offered to allow me to return home with your party." His hand is over his heart as he sets down the baskets from his other arm and Ellaria begins to unload them all over the large dining table. "I am most grateful to be able to see my family again."

“You must join us tonight.” Oberyn decides, motioning to the table. “We will be spending time together in much less spacious confines, let us drink and celebrate with delicious food tonight.”

"I could not impose--" Salin begins, but you immediately shake your head to stop him.

"Please," you insist, motioning for everyone to gather around the table. "We will not stand on ceremony tonight, but feast and celebrate as friends and family. We insist."

Looking around the table, Salin sees nothing but encouraging smiles and the murmurs of agreement, and he nods. "Your Graces are very kind. It would be my honour to join you."

There is something familiar about the young man. It tugs at your father’s thoughts but he tries to dismiss it as simply being nostalgic for his soulmate and everything to do with a culture he had much preferred to the rigid standards of the North.

Sitting down together at the table is indeed like an odd group of friends and family, but it is welcoming for that. Cal and Leyth join you instead of eating separately. Ellaria's mood is bright and boisterous. She speaks with Oberyn and Salin of home with such nostalgia that your father practically sighs with longing, and the rest of you who have never been to Dorne are hanging on every word.

Raeden leans back, watching the group with a smile as he strokes Margaery’s arm. Looking at the group that he has come to care for very much and squirms slightly in anticipation for things to come. It was not as if he had meant to wait to be with Oberyn. The moment had just never really come to be quite yet, but he want it so badly he cannot wait for the night to continue.

“I hope you will all forgive the indulgence,” Salin is saying as he begins to unpack the beautiful containers of sweet treats he prepared for dessert. “I have catered to her Grace’s cravings for our final course. Date cakes, figs with soft cheese, honey soaked fried dough, and crispy pastry with honey and nut filling. All of the princess’s favourites that I have been fortunate to discover so far.”

“Salin.” Your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the spread, practically giggling with glee. “You are far too kind and far too indulgent.”

The pastry with honey and nut filling makes your father tilt his head curiously as he finishes up his own meal. Easily enjoying the best Dornish meal he has had since he has been to the country. Watching as you pile a clean plate high with the delicacies with an indulgent chuckle.

“Try them, Papa.” You insist, moving the plate of crispy, sticky pastry toward your father. “I promise you will not be disappointed. Salin is a magician.”

Once offered, your father eagerly reaches for the pastry, likening it to one he has had many years ago and takes a bite quickly. "Mmmmmhhhhh." The moan is immediate and louder than he would have normally given over any good food. "I-- this tastes exactly like the tarts my soulmate would make."

“Are they traditional?” The question is for anyone at the table who would know - Salin, of course, but Oberyn or Ellaria, too.

“Not especially, your Grace.” Salon’s expression is apologetic. “They are a family recipe. My mother would make them for special dinners. Birthdays, usually.”

"This-- this is exactly like Marlee would make." Your father groans again after another bite. "She added a touch of anise. Not too much or it would overpower the nuts, she always said." He shoves the rest of the tart into his mouth and reaches for another.

Confused, Salin tilts his head and watches as your father seems entranced by the sweets. “You knew my mother?” He asks, not entirely sure how that could be.

The air is sucked out of the room and the tart in his hand falls to the table as your father's head whips around to gape at the man who had served the food. "Your mother?" He chokes out. "Your mother is Marlee Sand?"

“I—yes?” Confused even further as to why this fact has caused such a reaction in the older nobleman, Salin nods. “Marlee Brude, after marrying my sisters’ father. But she was born Marlee Sand.”

"She-- she's dead." The blood rushes to his ears and his head is swimming as he rolls his eyes over to you desperately. "She told me she was dead." He whispers, begging you to confirm that your mother told him that his soulmate was killed.

“I am sure it is a coincidence.” Although, which your father clutching your hand so tightly, your confidence wanes. “Sand is the most common name in Dorne. And surely Marlee is—”

“Is an unusual name.” Ellaria cuts in, glancing between the two of you and Salin. “Not unheard of, but not common.”

“And my mother is very much alive,” Salin adds, still not quite understanding what is happened. “I had a letter from her not a fortnight ago.”

"I don't understand.." He shakes his head, clinging to you and looking at Salin with a more critical eye before he gasps. "Boy." He barks, although Salin is a man grown and not a boy. "Do you have your mother's eyes or your fathers?" He demands.

Salin huffs, being well past thirty years of age and no longer a boy. “My father’s, according to my mother. Much good though that may do me.”

“Pumpkin.” He reaches for your jaw and cradles it gently as he looks from your eyes, his eyes, and then towards the man who shares those eyes. “How-- is it possible?” He whispers quietly.

"You cannot be my father, sir, no matter how much coincidence maybe at play tonight." It is all a little too much for Salin, and he pushes away from the table with a frown. "My father was some far-flung Northern lord who chose money over his soulmate. He married a shrew of a woman and never gave my mother a second thought."

That makes him frown, shaking his head and letting go of your chin to stand, swaying slightly at the revelation that this is his son sitting in front of him. “I can swear on my honor I have thought of your mother every day I have been apart from her.” He tells Salin. “I was led to believe that she had returned to Dorne when my betrothal was announced, as I was trying to convince my father to let me marry Marlee.”

"It cannot be." The color drains from Salin's face even as he stands to face your father. His father? There is something familiar reflected in the older man's face that makes him hesitate, but as he glances away to try to take a shaky breath, his eyes fall on your father's neck. Or - specifically - on the decades old scar that mars his skin. It is that scar that makes him gasp and his eyes dart up to the older man's again. "Tell me how you got that scar." He demands.

“A small skirmish on the northern boarder of our lands when I was young.” It was the first time he had killed a man, and he had barely escaped with his life. He had told Marlee about it one night after sex, her giggling as he had re-enacted it completely nude. He sees that Salin might believe him. “Have you see it before?”

"Do you know what truly happened to the Marlee Sand that you knew?" There is anger there, or at least frustration and surprise, and Salin bristles slightly when your father's story matches what his mother told him of the scar she wears from her soulmate. "Why she returned to Dorne?"

“My bitch of a wife had confessed just weeks ago that she had paid a solider to have her killed.” Your father’s anger rides across his face, a dark storm cloud of emotions that has him curling his fists. He had missed Marlee for years and then mourned her over the past weeks, now to find out she was still living? It is almost too much to bear.

"That soldier had a change of heart." Salin murmurs, feeling the impossibility of the situation slam through him with determination. "He told her to run, and she did." His shoulders hunch, disbelief clouding his features as he shakes his head. "I am Salin Sand because she was driven from your lands. It was many years before she even acknowledged a man's attention. My sisters are young, yet. Young like Lady Sunstone."

The chair in front of him is the only thing that keeps his kneels from buckling as your father learns his soulmate is really alive. Still bearing no marks from her on his body, he had never considered she was alive. “Son.” He chokes out, nearly sobbing at the fact that this man is his grown son. “Tell me she is well. That she is happy?”

Before Salin can even think, he finds himself embracing your father - his father - with tears pooling in his eyes. "I think she will be again," he admits, shaking a little as he processes everything that has happened today. He has gone from simply being able to return home to returning home with his father. "She has been a widow these last few years, but I know she has never forgotten you. In fact--" He pulls away just enough to look at the scar again, fully digesting its existence and the existence of the man who wears it. "She had sent me to learn of you. That...that is why I left Dorne."

“She-- you did?” He’s astonished because he had never seen you before tonight. “I-- did you ever come to the Vale?” He asks, immediately suspicious of his bitch of a wife. Even if she hadn’t rubbed the knowledge of his bastard son in his face, she might have sent him away and never let him know.

“I was robbed on my first night in King’s Landing.” Salin sighs. “I opened my stall in the marketplace as a way to earn the money to return home, but clearly I have been unsuccessful.” Living hand to mouth is difficult for anyone, but it had been particularly embarrassing to have to live in his stall the first few weeks. Things had improved, but not enough. Not until Prince Oberyn.

“I-- I didn’t know of you.” He tells him, hating that they had pulled apart to continue talking. Even as the rest of the table looks on with great curiosity, he only had eyes for his eldest child. “Or I would have- I would have brought her home.” He knows that marriage wouldn’t have been allowed but Marlee and Salin would have been safe, protected and loved.

“It seems I was meant always to have sisters.” The younger man laughs, finally looking over to where you are still sitting - dumbfounded - at the table before his eyes cut back to his father. “Mother will be glad to know you have not forgotten her.”

“I will-- would you allow me to see her?” His eyes are hopeful but there may be too much resentment there to let it be possible. The idea of seeing his soulmate again has him wishing he was already in Dorne.

“It will be up to her.” Even as a young boy who wished to defend her, Salin understood that his mother was strong enough to choose her life for herself. “I have already sent a raven home to tell her that I will be returning with the prince and princess. She will be waiting at the docks for my arrival. I only ask that you allow me to tell her you are there first. To not ambush her.”

It is nearly a miracle that he does not make himself lightheaded, he is nodding so quickly. “Of course.” He agrees before he looks around the table at the rest of the group. “Would you--” he clears his throat. “Would you like to come to my chambers?” He asks, knowing you are eager to celebrate with your husband and he wants to talk to Salin more. “I have wine, or stronger spirits. We can talk?” He is hopeful, biting his lip as he looks at the son that he has missed out on his entire life with. Wishing to know everything about him.

“You are not going anywhere until I am allowed to embrace my oldest brother.” The idea of all of it has overwhelmed you, but the smile on your face is soft and dreamlike. How utterly right that your father should be able to have again what had been stolen from him. That he will have the chance to know his eldest child.

Salin seems almost shocked that you would be wanting a hug, but he’s opening his arms immediately and moving towards the woman who he now knows is his sister. “Gladly. Without you and the prince, this would not be.”

“We will all have time to get to know each other much better on the voyage home.” The warmth of the embrace is genuine — two shocked individuals taking what is in front of them and fully accepting it head on. “And I hope you will find it a comfortable thing to call us by our given names now that we are family.”

“It-- it will take time, Princess.” Salin admits with a small smile as he pulls back. “Perhaps his feelings will change once we change his last name to mine.” Your fathers interjects. “If he is willing to be claimed.”

“We will have that conversation.” There are many mixed feelings that Salin has had about his father over his lifetime. Now, with an entire family being offered to him, the thing he wants first is simply to know this man. “But tonight, let us simply begin to know each other. More will come in time.”

“Come.” The older man nods and motions towards the door. “If we talk too late into the night, there is another bed you can sleep in if you have no wish to walk the roads of King’s Landing.”

It is almost surreal to watch your father and brother step away together. The tension that had filled the room seems to dissipate all at once, and you fall down again in your seat beside Raeden with a sigh. “That was…unexpected.”

“Completely astounding.” Oberyn muses thoughtfully, still reclined in his chair and shaking his head. “Fate is playing in your life, Star. The Gods have truly taken an interest.”

______

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Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 14

"Please don't bash your head in on the tub." "Not intentionally, I promise."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver @ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999

Jack's stomach was raw, his legs felt like jello as Y/n helped him off the floor.

"Go slow. We don't have to rush." She had her arm underneath Jack's shoulder and he held onto the wall as they moved. He pointed to toward the bathroom and Y/n sat him down on the toliet lid.

"Hold still, I don't want to get puke in your hair when I take this off." Y/n carefully peeled Jack out of his vomit covered shirt and tossed it into the sink. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees so he could support his head on his hands.

"Do you think you can stand long enough to shower?" Y/n asked making him shake his head.

"Okay well we don't want you to die in the shower so you're going to have to trust me to help you." Jack looked up from his hands.

"You don't have to do that." Jack knew he was too woozy on his feet to stand very long but Y/n knelt down in front of him.

"Listen, if you want to keep your underwear on, you can but you need to get cleaned up. I do this every day for work Jack. Please just let me take care of you right now." Y/n rubbed the top of his hands and he ran his thumb over her hands.

He nodded in agreement and she started running the bath. Jack started to try and pull his socks off his feet while Y/n searched for a towel and wash cloth. She discarded his socks into the sink with his shirt and held her hands out for him to take.

"We going underwear on?" Y/n asked again and Jack made a noise like a chuckle but didn't quite reach his throat.

"I'm not wearing any." Jack informed. Y/n didn't want to make a big deal so she just agreed and helped him step out of his slacks, letting his cock hang freely between his legs. He moved his hands like he might try to hide himself but Y/n took his hands in her own to be able to help him into the tub.

"Please don't bash your head in on the tub." Jack's ass slipped along the base of the tub but Y/n gripped his hands tighter.

"Not intentionally, I promise." Jack croaked. His throat was raw and his skin held goosebumps from the warm water on his cold skin. He held his head under the water to let the warmth overwhelm him and Y/n stood back trying not to objectify Jack in such a weak state. He dfeinently looked different than what she would have thought. He held definition and muscles you wouldn't have expected in his plain black tshirts and jeans. Even soft, he had a beautiful cock in terms of size, girth and general attractiveness. She hadn't seen many cocks that looked as naturally pretty as his did but he was differently carrying around the Top 3.

Jack emerged from the water and coughed letting his hands rake down his face. She place a rag with soap on it in his hands and he washed his face, chest and neck trying to soothe himself.

"I have clean laundry in the dryer if you could grab that for me." Jack finally was able to get words to sound halfway clear. She nodded her head seeing that the water had given him a bit of a recharge so she trusted walking away with him in the tub. She didn't want to take too long as she sprinted down the hallway to the laundry room and started searching through his dryer. I found a pair of pajama pants, a loose shirt and some boxers. She carried the clothes to his room and started cleaning up the mess, making sure to open the window while she cleaned so it wouldn't smell.

By the time she returned, Jack was out of the bathtub, towel around his hips and he was gripping the sink with one hand while he brushed his teeth.

"I've got your room cleaned up enough to sleep in and your clothes are on the bed. Think you can walk it?" She asked ask Jack places his tooth brush back in the cabinet.

"As long as I can lean on you a bit. Feet are a bit slippery." Jack reached out and let Y/n put her arm behind his still dripping back helping him back to his room. He let out a heavy sigh taking in the air from the window before plopping down on his bed.

Y/n watched him toss the boxers to the side and pull on the pajama bottoms before discarding the towel. She used it dry his hair so it wasn't soaking wet when he laid down. She noticed a brush on the dresser and started running it throug his hair.

"You're a really good nurse." Jack blushed looking up from the bed at her as she stood over him, brushing his hair back.

"Thanks. I enjoy taking care of people." She smiled at him. Once his hair had been brushed, she picked his hand up and held it out.

"This is for the headache you're going to have and this is to help you rest. I know sleep is the worst right now but the spins will only make it worse." Jack tossed the pills back and chugged the water she held out to him. She noticed he didn't want to wear the shirt she had left out for him either so as he laid back on his bed, she started to tuck him in.

"Wait...will you stay?" Jack asked pitifully.

"Jack-"

"Nothing nefarious. I'm just nervous about getting sick again and having you here makes me feel less anxious." Jack explained. Y/n bit her lip before kicking her shoes off at the bottom of the bed and shimmying herself out of her jeans. She used the shirt she had pulled out for him because it was bigger than the one she was wearing and it smelled better than her sweat and Jack's puke.

"No funny business or I'm out." Y/n teased making Jack nod. She slid into the bed next to him and watched him squeeze his eyes tightly.

"The spins?" She asked and he nodded quick;y. She reached over and wrapped her arms around him to steady him.

"Just find something that's not moving, it'll pass. Just take deep breaths." Y/n breathed into Jack's ear and he opened his eyes to look at her.

"Thank you for staying." Jack whispered letting his head fall against her chest. She gave him a squeeze to her chest and he listened to the sounds of her heart beating as she stroked his hair.

Jack had never fall asleep so fast in his life.

[daddysfangirls-dc]

UnTamed Ch.14

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Damian Wayne x OC!Female

He found nothing. With facial recognition, fingerprints, and blood, Tim still found nothing on this girl. She didn't exist. Literally, there was nothing on her. It was stressing him the fuck out. Who was in their house? Who was with their brother? 

THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS HAPPENING !?!

-

Tim wasn't sneaky. They knew that he was looking into her. They were upset at first, Jason furious, but Damian waved off the ambush, telling them he wouldn't find anything because there was nothing to find. They simply didn't relay the information to him. Watching him spiral was very amusing, and it was needed in such severe and sad times. It had been several days since her arrival, and Damian hadn't left her side since they brought her upstairs.

Jason had been shielding him from everyone, especially Bruce. It surprised everyone that Jason was Damian's advocate and protector at the moment. He stood firm in keeping everyone away and protecting Damian and his lover. They both need time to heal. He'd ensure they'd be left in peace. 

-

"You need rest," Alfred said as he came in, changing her IV bag.

"I'm fine"

"You need rest in a proper bed," he said, this time more firmly. 

"The others-"

"Have gone. It is just you and I."

"I don't want to leave her. What if-"

"I'll come get you if she wakes. I promise," he says, laying his hand on Damian's shoulder. " She wouldn't want to see you like this." This is greasy and unkempt. Clothes ruffled and untucked. Hair uneven and greased. She had never seen him like this, and he realized he didn't want her to. 

"I'll shower, then I'll come back."

"Okay, dear boy," that was enough for now.

-

The room Asta woke up in was familiar yet not. She knew she was in Wayne Manor by the smell. Opening her eyes, she recognized the room she was in, the sheets that covered her. The room looked similar to Damian's, void of all those personal touches of his. A guest room in the Wayne Manor.

Looking about, she found an IV pole standing next to her, pumping a line of fluids and a heart monitor. She tried to lift her arm but found that she had no strength. She tried to sit up and found herself too weak. Suddenly, she found herself exhausted even though she had just woken up.

"Good Morning." Asta looked up to find Alferd by the door. Coming into the room and opening the blinds. " Alfred Pennyworth, although you already know that," she smiles at the amusement clearly in his voice. " Is it wrong for me to assume you are Astraea?"

Her face became flushed. Someone else knew her name. She bit back a smile. "My friends- friend calls me Asta." 

"Well," he stands at the end of the bed," It is nice to meet you properly, Miss Asta." he comes around to check her IV and monitor. She points to the clear bags. " These are fluids, antibiotics, and morphine. You were in rough shape when you arrived. Our doctor did wonders, but you still need time to heal."

That would explain the drowsiness and weakness. She wondered where Damian was. 

"The others have either gone to work or other things have called their attend. Damian is cleaning up in his room. He'll be back soon-" The door swung open, revealing Damian baggy clothes, fresh skin, and wet hair. Damian say nothing as he quickly crosses the room to her side.

"Hi"

"Hi"

Alfred slipped out unseen and left the couple to themselves. 

"Hi," she said again, smiling weakly. " I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

"you have nothing to be sorry."

"I'm supposed to be a secret," she cries breathlessly. " I came here, and now I'm not. I'm so sorry."

Damian kisses her hand and wipes her tears. " There is no need for apologies. I don't care for our secrets. I want you safe," Even though she was lying in bed, he could see her boy sag with exhaustion with each cry. " Rest. All I need from you now is rest. Please rest." she nodded weakly as her eyes started to droop. " I'll be here when you wake. I promise"

-

 Asta woke again, this time with more energy and strength, being able to lift her arms now. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she opened them. She looked at the sounds of birds coming from the window. There were two noticeable things by the window, one being the orange glow that came through the window, showing it was sunset, and Two Damian sitting by the window with a book. 

"Good evening"

"Hey"

"You're healing well." 

"Yes," She sat up, looking around. She found the IV and morphine drip gone. " How was school?" he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"It's winter break. No School" 

"Oh, sorry." he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. 

You've been through a traumatic event, and it is safe to say your perspective of time might be a bit skewed." He took her hand, rubbing it gently. " Can you tell me what happened? How you got it this way?"

"Stupidity," Asta laughed bitterly as she lay down. "I got too comfortable. I wasn't watching like I should have been like I always do." He wiped the few tears that spilled.

"you don't have-"

"I was walking as a cat. A black cat at that. I was walking to our apartment. I wasn't paying attention, and someone picked me up and stuffed me into a bag. I passed out and woke up caged in a basement. There was slickly preteen shit - He's definitely going to be a school shooter. He had a collection of tasers, pipes, and blades, and he had a lot. I didn't know what he'd do to me If I changed in front of him. I didn't want to know. 

So fucking pathetic."

"No, you're not."

"I got caught by a fucking rando on the street. Who did this to me? " She pulled the covers back, revealing her wounds. " I am pathetic, 15 years, and this is how I'm caught. I am. I am. I am." 

"No, no, no. You are perfect, and you are brave. None of this is your fault." he says, pulling the blanket back over her and tucking her in.

" I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. heal." He kissed her forehead again, wiping away more tears. " Rest"

Damian closed the curtains, shrowding the room in darkness. When he approached the door, Asta assumed he was leaving and closed her eyes. She let out a small sob as she heard the door close and lock. She lay in the dark, quietly crying. She felt the blankets move. She felt it as he crawled into bed alongside her. She felt his warmth as he lay closer, but he didn't come any closer; he simply took her hand and held it tight. It was the only part of her he could hold without hurting her. He held on tight. 

-

"Who is she?" Bruce asked as he leaned on the Batcomputer; Red Robin already claimed his seat. He had yet to put on his cowl. 

"Her name is Astraea. Don't bother." Damian stopped Red before he could begin typing, " She doesn't exist. She was born and raised on the streets. There is no record of her." 

"How do you know her?" Red asked suspiciously.

" I met her four years ago, and we became friends. We became romantically involved last year.

"FOUR YEARS!?! You've been in a relationship for four years and didn't tell m-us?" Dick said the hurt and betrayal clear in his voice and face.

The others were shocked that Damian had managed to hide an entire relationship for four years. They all had to take a moment, think, and try to remember any hints of this possible relationship. They hadn't noticed anything strange until a few months ago. It also made them think if he really trusted them. 

"Alfred was aware I had a romantic partner but not who they were. So was Superboy." 

"You told Superboy?!!"

"No, I went to both of them inquiring for advice on pursuing someone romantically. I never confirmed having a romantic partner with supper boy. He just assumed correctly."

"He confirmed that the advice I gave was a success," Alfred said as he approached him. " He continues to subtly ask for advice now and again."

"All your advice has kept us together this long."

"no, my dear boy," he put a hand on his shoulder." That was all you." Damian pulled a small smile.

"She's a metahuman," Bruce said, interrupting the small moment." Can she turn into just a cat?" Duke asked. He was the only meta in the family, so the possibility of another joining the family was exciting. 

"Any animal. She has empathic abilities as well," Damian said, accepting cocoa from Alfred. He passed out refreshments to the others.  

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very beginning. she never hid herself from me. And I never hid myself from her. All our truths were laid out at the very beginning."

"Beginning their relationship with honestly I like that"

"Shut up, Jason"

"Asta-"

"Asta?"

"Is good and trustworthy. She has known our secret for years, and not once has it crossed her mind to betray us, me."

"And yet you never told us about her," Red said, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"THIS," Damian says as he stands up, his arms motioning wildly. " This is right here. I didn't want you to turn her into a suspect and pull her part. Run her off. She's good; she's trustworthy and loyal. She doesn't... she doesn't deserve to be criminalized. She's good, and she's doing good."

"So you made her stay a secret for four years?"

"I didn't make her do anything. I also didn't oppose her staying a secret, which was mainly her idea. She doesn't like attention. And whether we like it or not, we have the spotlight in both our day life and nightlife."

While Damian never opposed secrets, he and Asta had several conversations and discussions about their hiding, and Asta desired to stay in the shadows for as long as possible. Damian didn't know how to explain it. He did know how to explain her desire for secrecy, her nonexistence, her devoted loyalty. He didn't know how to explain .... Astraea.

She was Astraea, and she was his, and that's all he truly understood from her. The downside of being in a relationship with an empath is that you no longer explain yourself; you feel and share your feelings. Damian didn't know how to share his feelings with his family. And even if he did, most of them were emotionally incompetent. It wouldn't matter. So here he stood flexing his hands, and they'd never understand how much " I love her... I love her. And I won't lose her."

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 44

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 14 minutes

The bright light that peeked through the half opened curtains of their room forced her to blink again after opening her eyes, cuddling to the embrace of the man behind her as she tried to hide her face on his forearm. Y/n just rubbed her cheek against his skin, sighing lowly.

Her mornings had been like that every day since she woke up after losing her conscience in the back of the van. Jungkook was glued to her, resting his chest against her back, with one arm surrounding her neck -so she could lie on it-, and his right hand covering the thin scar on her stomach, with his thumb reaching to his mark.

At first, she thought it was just a habit he'd lose with time, that he'd let go of after the wound he kept healing turned into the soft pink scar she had then. But five months later, there he was, covering that line with his palm, as if that would keep it from opening or hurting.

She tried to crawl on the mattress without waking him up, trying to set free from his grip, but she was only able to move a few centimeters away before Jungkook pulled her back to her position with a tired groan.

—Don't go —he asked with a raspy voice—. Tell me what you need, and I'll bring it to you.

She understood that attitude when her movements were limited because of her wound, and even more because of Jungkook. He was always trying to please any of her needs, while also keeping her from moving too much. And, when he wasn't around, he made sure to leave one of their men looking after her. Although she always ended up convincing them to give her the freedom she needed. Whether she was good with words or they were more scared of her than they were of him, it was something she didn't really care about. She always ended up having it her way.

—If I need to go to the bathroom, will you bring it here? —she chuckled, moving her fingers over the reverse of his left hand.

While he puckered his lips, he tried to think of the answer, moving his thumb down to the rugosity of her scar to caress it. It was such a dumb thing to do, but it made him feel at such an ease, he just couldn't help it. It had been four months since it stopped being a danger for her, yet he still tried to make sure it was close and healthy.

—I never tried it, but maybe. Do you need to go to the bathroom?

—Oh, seriously —she huffed.

Rolling on by herself, she turned to face Jungkook and find him with a playful smile.

—You weren't treating me as if I were made of glass last night, quite the opposite actually —Y/n reprended him.

Jungkook didn't reply back to her whines, he simply pinched her chin, instantly making her smile back.

—I promised you I'd look after you, and that's what I'm going to do —he insisted, faking a serious voice—. Does my queen need to go to the bathroom? I'll take her to the bathroom.

But Y/n stopped him before he was able to get up, quickly reaching for his arms and placing them over his head.

—I can do it alone —she repeated.

He faked being hopeless and weaker just for a few seconds, allowing her to think she actually had enough strength to keep him down in that position. All it took him was a smirk from her to groan as he moved, rolling on the mattress until she was trapped under his body.

—You can —he nodded—. I just like helping you. And you're going to let me, right? —he tilted his head— Hmm, right? —he said lowly, bending over her— Let me spoil you.

Her back arched, along with a loud gasp leaving her throat when he went for her throat, instead of kissing her lips. The way his fingers pinched a concrete spot on her side and his teeth bit on her beck got her squirming, trying to move her body away as she laughed and tried to push him.

—Okay —she finally gave in—. You win.

Jungkook smiled, proud of his victory as he stood up next to their bed, ready to pick her up.

—I don't have to go to the bathroom though. It was just an example —she stopped him, when he hooked one of his arms under her legs.

His lips were pressed tight after her comment, allowing his piercing to be more notorious. He breathed in deeply, just hearing her giggles while she played with his hair.

—We're going to take a shower, anyway. We have somewhere to go later.

She couldn't guess where they needed to be. Honestly, she didn't know why they were back in Mallorca in the first place, but she didn't fight his idea. Instead, she agreed to it faster than expected, leaving his convincing justification for another day.

She was still as confused two hours later, well dressed up and chilling with the soft breeze that filled the terrace every few minutes and that came with a heavy smell of sea. That same one she didn't know she loved so much until she closed her eyes, and relaxed to the salty smell.

—You really like it here —he smiled, lying his back against the backrest, admiring her peace.

—Hmm —she nodded—. Which is ironic, because I used to hate it. I kept hearing it whenever I was on my way to the club, so I guess I ended up linking that sound and the smell to that part of my life —she frowned, finally opening her eyes—. It's so calm now —she pointed out, looking at the see brightened by the reflection of the sun.

—Why do you like it now?

—Because I'm enjoying it with you —she quickly replied, moving her gaze to him.

But just when he was about to speak, a shrill voice interrupted him. Y/n recognized that tone perfectly, and it was reflected on the way her eyes opened with surprise. The man in front of her was still calm, as if he knew perfectly what was about to happen. And, in a way, he did know. It was no coincidence he took Y/n to that terrace, while also asking her to take her Prada bag, instead of the one she usually used.

Y/n turned, seeing her mother walking to her quickly, unable to dodge the hug when she jumped at her as soon as she stood up. Both of her arms stayed on each side of her body, just waiting for her mother to feel as uncomfortable as her and let her go.

She looked older, which made sense. Seven years had gone by, and several things had happened in between. She wasn't the same as she was the day they kicked her out. But she guessed it hit her like a truck when she barely recognized her mother. That lady looked after her looks constantly, she was the type to go to the gym seven days a week, and never step out of her house without makeup on. But there she was: completely natural, with her wrinkles perfectly visible, several white locks standing out among her brunette color, and with several kilos added to her -then- thin figure.

And she could almost say the same about her father, who joined them shortly after.

Jungkook, aware of how confused and shocked Y/n was, stood and reached to them, placing a hand in the middle of her back.

—I'll explain it to you later —he whispered.

She for sure wouldn't give him time to speak after she ran away from there, because she was already planning on several ways to kill him if she ever found out he was behind all of that.

Seeing her parents after so long was a punch at her throat that she didn't expect, and even less from him. She was having a hard time sitting straight, feeling their eyes on her as they took the spot Jungkook was taking minutes before. All of her memories were colliding against one another. With every wave collapsing against the wavebreaker, a new memory showed up. All the difficulties and pain she went through, all the sacrifices she had to do... She had always blamed it all on the people that were pretending to care about her at that moment.

—We're relieved to see you're doing great —her mother commented.

As soon as she arrived at the place, her eyes fell onto the expensive bag and the latest phone that were placed over the table. In all those years, her mind barely went to her, but whenever it did, she never imagined that the future would be so bright for Y/n.

Y/n simply scoffed, looking away while the knot in her throat tightened with anger, holding back every temptation of running away from there.

—Where's the kid?

—I lost it —Y/n quickly replied—. I had a miscarriage as I worked two jobs to keep myself alive —she roughly commented, feeling her jaw tensing with every word—. So you won't have to pretend you're happy to see a kid you didn't want in your life either way.

—Honey, we're sorry. We know we made a mistake —her father chose to intervene.

—A bit too late, don't you think? —her head was tilting in a challenging way— What is this even about? What's with the family reunion?

Her mother looked at Jungkook, and later looked back at Y/n, gulping thick before she felt encouraged to speak.

—We didn't have it easy either —that comment made Y/n scoff—. Your father lost his job, and we're barely able to keep up with the expenses. We can't sell the house either...

—So you need money? —Y/n interrupted— Is that what all of this is about? What should I do? Feel bad for you? Yeah, well, I don't. I think that's the least you two deserve.

As Y/n was about to stand up to leave, her mother's hand flew over the table, suddenly stopped by Jungkook's fingers around her wrist. The sound of the skin clappin made Y/n react, conscious of the deadly look her boyfriend was dedicating at her mother before he let go of it. She knew that look. He was warning her, because the next time she tried something similar he wouldn't just stop her.

—I'll be fair with you —Y/n commented.

She opened her bag, taking her purse out and throwing two hundred euros over the table.

—That should be enough for you two to survive until you find something else. Sounds familiar to you?

While her mother ranted several things, Y/n just walked away from the table. She hated that moment, but there was something so fulfilling and pleasing in what had just happened, that she couldn't be totally bothered about it.

—And you better tell me what all that was about —she warned Jungkook, who walked behind her calmly—. Because I'm not dumb to think you had no idea.

He advanced to her position, with both hands in his pockets. His aura was so calm despite everything that had happened, that she wondered if it was because he didn't understand half of the things they talked about because of the language. But then he smirked, and she knew his calmness had to do with something else.

—Let's say Jimin turned into the partner of the company your father worked in, and they needed to leave some people behind —Jungkook shrugged—. He was left jobless, and desperate enough to cause a fire to get money from the insurance. Things happen —he shrugged—. Also, the asshole of your ex boyfriend was also quite unlucky, he was caught while trafficking with some of Pedro's merch a few months ago —as he clicked his tongue, he tilted his head.

Her heart stopped beating when he hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his body and placing one of her locks behind her ear.

—I told you: whoever hurts you will deal with the consequences of it. I will ruin them, and I will make you be above them. Always. Because that's where you belong.

Maybe she was twisted as hell for having those thoughts, but her heart skipped a beat at the fact that Jungkook was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy. He wasn't scared of getting some dirt in his hands, he put no limits to his actions for her. He was loving her, openly. And she was already loving him the same way.

He just wanted her to close a chapter that had been opened for way too long, even if she hardly ever talked about it. And there wasn't a better way than letting her realize she had overcome everything she was in her past, and left behind all of the ghosts that just sucked her back into the darkness whenever she allowed herself to feel happy.

✸ ✸ ✸

Y/n had been waiting for Jungkook to come back ever since he left to meet up with Jimin. She did spend some time outside, walking near the beach until she found Amira, carrying a paper bag that she'd later hand to her. She had asked for it when her ex-colleague was working as her only source inside the club, informing her of Pedro's every move.

And she took it, not asking any questions. Just doing what she was told, because she thought she owed it to Y/n.

—I remember the day you first came into the club, and thought how you had no business being there. But I'm still glad to see life has treated you the way you deserved.

Her lips were pressed together, remembering her words, and also comparing herself to her young self. She was scared, intimidated by everything around her, thinking there was no place for her in life, because it kept pushing her to the edge, waiting for her to jump. But there she was: making it through life, always supported by a person that loved her and respected her.

Y/n smiled fondly when she heard his voice through the door of the bathroom, able to see the smile on his face with just a word. Meanwhile, Jungkook's smile slowly dropped, confused at how dark the room was. The thicker curtains were drawn, so it'd seem it was night already. And the lights were lit in an intimate way, enough for him to see, but low enough to make it cozy and sensual.

—Doll, what's all of this?

She tried to control her smile, looking at herself in the mirror, double checking the fit was looking the way it should before she opened the door. Jungkook was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at his phone until the lock of the door clicked and the shadow of her curves were visible on the wall opposite to the bathroom.

He would've expected anything, but not what he saw.

The fake pearls of the corset fell over her belly and waist delicately, helping to accentuate her figure. He recalled the first time he saw her with that one, walking through the darkness, under the spotlight that barely had its focus on her, before he was completely lost on the way her body moved. And almost a year later, that exciting feeling was being multiplied by ten. Not only was he craving her body like never before, that added nostalgia the corset brought made his heart sink to his chest.

It was all the same, except for his initials peeking over the strip of her bra in the middle of her chest. Although he could see the ink going lower, reaching the new scar, and he could only think of the idea of her retouching the tattoo so it hid that other wound.

Nothing was needed to be said, because a smirk from her, and an attentive look from his, and she knew it was okay to go on with her idea.

The hairs of his arm raised with the start of that familiar melody, excited to see what would be coming after. His eyes followed her as she walked to his front, tracing her body with grace as she bent back to the white bureau behind her, dedicating him a daring gaze.

—What do you want? —she asked.

But instead of asking her to dance and get naked, he got up. Her eyebrows shrinked at his sudden move, lips slightly puckering while her head tilted to the sight for a quick second.

—Do you really want to know what I want? —Jungkook inquired slowly, walking to her.

His hands covered hers, trying not to support himself at the edge of the furniture so he wouldn't hurt her. As he bent over, Y/n could feel his warm breath caressing her skin with the same delicacy his hands were using to press on hers.

The reverse of his fingers moved over her soft skin, moving the beads as he advanced over her belly up her chest, which raised and lowered notably with every breath she took. Jungkook didn't make a sound as he unclasped the corset first, still amazed by how easily she took it off back in the day while dancing, just to later take off her bra, moving the strips down her arms until her surprise was already revealed -even if it wasn't the way she expected to do it. She didn't care though. The way his pupils expanded and his eyes squeezed momentarily as he smiled was enough for her.

He carefully moved his thumb over the unhealed tattoo. His initials were back to be clearly seen over the small wounds, with an "'s" added behind it. The "s" was prolonged, with a knot in the middle, and linked to the word "only" over the scar she got after being stabbed.

"Jk's only" he thought, with a proud smile hinting on his face.

—I want you to be mine forever. That's what I want —Jungkook answered, finally looking back at her—. I want to get married to you, and make you the happiest woman forever. Y/n —he called her, sneaking his left hand in his pocket—, I want to keep giving you the life you deserve. I want us to keep being a team. I want my life to end with you.

Y/n was so focused on the way his eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever, despite the low lights, that she wasn't aware of the ring he was carrying until it was in front of her face.

Somehow, her expression was twisted. It definitely was something that took him off guard. He didn't plan to ask her that way, he had a whole different idea in his head before he saw her, but when she walked out the bathroom wearing that, with the small glimpse of that new tattoo, his head was long gone.

He didn't care about the plan, because he needed to get those feelings out of his chest.

—Actually...

Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes momentarily before she moved under his embrace, stretching her arm until it reached the back of the TV. There was a black velvet box in her hand, that she opened to show him the simple golden ring inside.

—I was going to do the same thing. 

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast @coralmusicblaze

[princesscolumbia]

Double Isekai - Chapter 9

So here we are at the end of my backlog. It was nice to be able to post once a day and not have to stress over jumping straight back into it, but I knew that wasn't gonna finish LLW ch. 14 anywhere near the time my backlog was gone. It did, however, firm up my desire to actually get a backlog going and eliminate that stress-point from my life.

Summary:

Ranma gets the chance to talk to someone who isn't directly impacted by the isekai and knew her both before and after. She gets some advice that she probably should have received in her previous life.

Notes:

And here we have the first canonical events that are directly impacted by the new timeline.

Preview below the cut:

The visit to Dr. Tofu's clinic went about as well as they could have expected, given the man's general open-mindedness about things involving magic and spiritual. It helped that the man could read qi auras; he'd described what he saw with Ranma like blending flavors of ice cream, which both isekai'd individuals smiled at.

"I must say, as much trauma as I'm seeing in your auras, you're remarkably well adjusted even after...well, all this." The doctor gestured up and down at the pair of them, sitting side by side on his exam table.

"Thank you, Doctor," "Thanks, Doc," they said at the same time. Ranma rolled her eyes and Nodoka giggled.

"Fascinating," he murmured under his breath, "If it's alright with you two, I'd like to set up ongoing monitoring appointments. Even in your other world the concept of the 'isekai' was fictional, so there wouldn't be any medical knowledge for managing cases like yours. While it's unlikely that I'll ever get a chance to publish anything on the issue, it would be good to at least make sure everything is working out okay for you two long-term."

Nodoka smiled warmly at the man, If I swung that way...ah well, he'll make someone a good husband soon enough, I'm sure. "That sounds lovely, and I'd be interested in reading your findings and discussing your conclusions."

"If you're sure you can keep up..." he returned her smile.

Ranma snorted, "Doc, c'mon. We taught ourselves data analytics and auto repair. Might need a reference or five, but we aint slouches."

Like many aspects of the conversation so far, Tofu showed all the signs of being pleasantly surprised by the new fold in the origami puzzle that was his most complex patient. "Fascinating...was the intelligence always there but expressed in purely martial ways or was your previous incarnation for this universe a savant and this more broad-spectrum intelligence a new addition from the merging?"

Ranma shrugged, "Think it was prolly the first one. Pops did his level best t'beat anything that wasn't The Art outa me. Kinda made me stupid in all sorts of ways. Aint sayin' I know for sure, but I did teach myself the 'roasting chestnuts' thing using adaptive methods thanks to an artificially imposed temporary disability, an' that was a LONG time before the isekai."

The conversation lasted a bit longer, Doctor Tofu completing the same physical that he did for the Tendo girls and providing a referral for a gynecologist he'd already 'felt out' about the Jusenkyo issue with a promise to have another ready if they should prove less receptive than he'd expected.

"I'll see what I can do about a counselor or therapist as well," he said after Nodoka brought up the concern, "That will be...harder, most likely. Not only is that a bit outside my specialty, without the ability to see qi and already having a history with either of you like I did, any therapist is going to be inherently skeptical."

Nodoka nodded, "As can be expected, this is a highly unusual case, to say the least." She paused visibly, as though bracing herself for a challenge, "I...don't want you to do anything that might violate your ethical obligations or result in a loss of your license, but about Ranma's male form..."

Tofu leaned back, a clearly intelligent mind piecing together the request before she could even make it but allowing his patient to ask the question anyway. Such manners...maybe some Jusenkyo water? No, don't be silly. You're a horny old woman but that's no reason to go looking for people to make dysphoric. Out loud, she said, "Might it be possible to see about transitioning her other body?" she gestured to her daughter, who was clearly doing her best to not get her hopes up too much.

Tofu appeared to ponder the question, "I'll admit I don't believe anyone has asked for such a thing in the annals of Jusenkyo." He stood and walked over to the counter he'd placed Ranma's file on earlier and flipped it open, jotting a few notes down, "I've started a correspondence with Cologne's tribe as they're the nearest group of people to the springs and so have the most experience with them." He finished his note and closed the file, facing them directly, "Most 'curse victims' opt to simply have the curse locked."

Nodoka grimaced and Ranma squirmed. The younger isekai'd woman piped in, "I aint sure that's a good idea, doc. It's...well, it's like noise-cancelling headphones if I'm thinkin' correctly."

"'Noise-cancelling...'?" parroted the doctor.

Nodoka chuckled, "I believe they're working on industrial applications for the technology now and it won't be on the consumer market for a decade or two yet, but they use the principal of a cancelled waveform to block sound." She traced a sine wave in the air in front of her, "Sound is just pressure waves in the air, so one simply sets up a microphone to capture the sound, a computer processes the opposite waveform, then broadcasts that back in the direction of the audio source," she traced an opposite sine wave going the other direction, "And the two waveforms cancel each other out."

"Problem is, doc, it's technically just more sound, only ya can't hear it," added Ranma. "And dependin' on how loud the original sound is, yer slamming a LOT of dee-bees into your ears."

Tofu gave her a confused smile, "'dee-bees'?"

Ranma smirked, "Decibels, or dBs." Tofu nodded with a quiet 'ah!' as Ranma continued, holding up a hand and punching it lightly, "It's like yer hammerin' yer eardrums twice as hard but ya can't hear it." She dropped her hands into her lap, "Aint interested in getting' magical tinnitus or whatever it'd be called."

He chuckled at her metaphor, "That's not a bad comparison, though I'll want to confer with some experts to see if that's actually a concern. If it is, then we'll definitely want to look into alternatives. As for hormone replacement therapy," he sounded hesitant, and his next words made it clear why, "We'll need to try some things, and I'll need to confer with some colleagues with discrete inquiries. I'm not an endocrinologist and I'm not equipped to do the hormonal testing here, so we'll need to bring in some others to see what can be done." He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully, "This could be an interesting, if extremely niche article in a journal somewhere." He chuckled as he put a hand on his hip and scratched the back of his head, "I'll probably need to find a way to introduce the Amazon's magic and traditional medicine doctors to some open minded colleagues," he focused on Ranma, "Would you be willing to demonstrate your curse to a select few people? If your descriptions of dysphoria are anything to go by, it might be uncomfortable and I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that..."

Ranma smirked, "I aint sayin' no, but I can talk to Shampoo t'see if she'd demonstrate first. I'm betting a girl turning into a cat'd be enough of a metaphorical gut-punch to convince just about anyone of how real magic is."

Tofu could only chuckle at this proposal, "Now, if you'll excuse us, Nodoka. We're at the part of the appointment where I talk to Ranma about things teenagers don't want their parents to hear about."

(Read the whole thing on AO3)

[flairina]

WIP Folder Tag Meme

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I got tagged for something??? Who does that, @chessanator? I don't even really have anyone to tag in turn. :P

Also I don't really have a WIP folder, I keep all the chapters for each of my stories in one big document, so, um. I guess I'll just list the chapters I'm currently working on in any respect? ^^;

-Subsumption Assemblance 17/Interlude: Adjustment -Subsumption Assemblance 13+14 Rewrite (Maybe) -Stand-in Ch 10: Let's Try Something Different -No-Leaf Clover Ch 17: Three-ring Circus/Phony as a Three Dollar Bill -A Backwards Grin Ch 18: Speaking in Tongues v3 (Final) -A Backwards Grin Ch 18: Speaking in Tongues v4 (REALLY FINAL) -A Backwards Grin Ch 19: (Title Undecided) -A Backwards Grin Interlude: Double Shock -A Backwards Grin Ch 20: An Ax to Grind/The Daily Grind -A Backwards Grin Ch ??: Flies in the Face Of/Breath of Fresh Air -Backslash Ch 6: (Title Undecided) -Queen of Puddles Ch 12: Steaming Madness/Scalding Frog Syndrome -Queen of Puddles Ch 13: In Thick Ice -Most Omnipotent Goddess Ch 15: Exousia (or, Hear Me Out-) -Most Omnipotent Goddess Ch 16: Empyrean (or, Jubi's Dream House Mansion) -Most Omnipotent Goddess Ch 17: Perdition (or, Paved With God Intentions) -Most Omnipotent Goddess Ch 18: Sacrilege (or, The Devil Wears Nada) -??? Ch 1: Auramancy -??? Ch 2: Cartomancy -??? Ch 3: Numismatomancy -??? Ch 4: Belomancy -??? Ch... uh, I kind of haven't named these yet; but ~30k words of writing + ~30k words of planning This is ignoring the vast amount of additional planning I do for the future of my fics (for all that I ever seem to reach most of it), as well as the numerous miscellaneous details I keep at the bottom of my writing documents. There's also a PMMM witch profile/art still waiting for me to finish animating her, because I promised I would, but I suck at animation and started the project in GIMP because that's the only art program I knew how to use and turns out GIMP is terrible for animating anything with more than two frames so that's been waiting around since 2018. Show me not to make promises I can't keep. ^^;

[quickspinner]

Indelible - Ch 23 Terminal

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | ??? | AO3

I'm changing my name and moving to an isolated cabin in the woods before everyone comes after me. 😂

I also regret to say the next chapter is not one where I had parts written ahead of time so it may take a bit to resolve this mystery I've left you with, but I have some scheduled free time coming up so I hope it won't be *too* long.

He wasn’t used to living alone.

He hadn’t ever had occasion before to consider it, but it was a fact. He had shared a room with Juleka until he left home. There was no privacy in the whirl of Jagged’s retinue, and even in the off times between tours, Luka had spent most of his time traveling, working with various mentors Jagged had connected him with, or otherwise getting experience in different areas of the music business. It felt like a large part of the last year had been spent trying to find time to himself, and now—

Well, he had it. Dingo had moved in with Bri for the off season, or until she got sick of him and kicked him out, whichever came first. Luka hadn’t wanted to intrude on Juleka and Rose for months, and now the little studio apartment he had rented felt…very quiet. He left his two small windows open to let in the street noise when it got too much for him. 

He played, of course. He played, and he tried to write, and the pen shook in his hand, knowing that his whole future and the future of everyone who was betting on him would depend on what he wrote. He paced the small space, and he took long walks, and he sat in the park and ate in cafes and tried to remind himself why he loved Paris. He showed up at the studio and at band meetings when he was required to, but his answer was always the same when they asked him how the new album was coming. “I’m still working on it.”

He missed Marinette. She would have been so excited for his first apartment alone, no matter how small it might be. She would have made him floor pillows and curtains while he pretended to protest through his laughter. She would have filled the room with her larger than life personality and even after she left, her energy would linger in him, spurring him to at least tack up some pictures of his loved ones, and he’d be smiling as he tried to work out his plan for the new album, even if it frustrated him.

She wasn’t answering his calls at all, now. Not since Kagami had gone to see her. Luka had finally called Kagami, and when he finally got through her layers of assistants, the flat way she had answered the phone made him change his question to, “Are you okay?” 

That seemed to take her off guard, and she answered softly, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Were we ever really friends, Luka?”

“That bad, huh?”

“No…no, not exactly. It was just—it felt like I was having lunch with Adrien instead of Marinette. Like she was reading a script. She just kept… smiling …” 

She couldn’t see his slow nod, of course. 

“Was it ever real?” Kagami asked. “Did I just imagine it was different with her?” 

“No,” Luka promised her, but it was all the reassurance he could give. 

“Are you sure you can’t…” Kagami trailed off, and it took him a moment to realize she wouldn’t continue, so accustomed was he to her clipped, precise speech.

“No,” he whispered. “I can’t. I told her a long time ago I would always respect her choices. I can't go back on that now.”

If his work had been slow going before, it had practically dragged to a halt since that conversation. There was only the quiet, and the sense that he was waiting. For something to happen. For something to change. 

And now…

Luka sat at the tiny second-hand table he used for both eating and working, and stared at the blank white wall without seeing it.

Some days he hated himself for asking her to put her name on him. Maybe if he hadn’t, he’d think they were still fine. Still friends. Maybe he’d still believe what she told him last time he saw her—that they were good. Still good. 

Luka glanced at the magazine on the counter next to him and shoved it away. He picked up his glass and took a large swallow. Only water. He didn’t trust himself with anything stronger right now.  

He wondered if she ever hated him for putting his mark on her. She always kept it covered, either with her clothes or her hair, only the edges peeking out here and there in all her press photos. 

For his privacy, she had once explained.

Was that still why?

Luka was sure it was as dark as it had ever been. The less she thought of him, the more he thought of her. Did she hate him for that? 

Did she even think about him enough to hate him?

His hand bunched the fabric of his shirt over his side and he sighed. 

The ring of his phone wasn’t at all unexpected. Luka picked it up, figuring he might as well get it over with. 

“Hey,” he said dully.

There was a gusty sigh on the other side of the line. “You saw it, didn’t you.” 

“Yeah.”  At least when she’d been dating Adrien, she’d cared enough to call him personally. Now he didn’t even warrant a phone call for one of the biggest events in her life. 

“And now you’re moping around telling yourself how you’re glad she’s happy.”

“I am glad she’s happy.” If she even was happy. He had his doubts, looking at that picture, at the model-perfect smile on her face and the careful posing of her hand to show the glittering ring. At her blond, smirking fiancé with a face that was far too similar to another one he remembered. What are you doing, Marinette?

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Sure, Ding,” Luka sighed. 

“Look, Lu, I don’t know what changed between you guys, but this...thing, isn’t good for you anymore.” 

Luka grunted, not especially interested in Dingo’s opinion of his love life, or lack thereof. He drew circles in the condensation his glass had left on the countertop. He still loved her, yeah, but right now…he’d give a lot just to have his friend back. 

“Lu,” Dingo said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Finish the song.”

Luka froze, stomach turning to ice.

“Finish it, perform it, record it,” Dingo said firmly. “Tell her all the things you’ve been holding back all this time. Get it—” He paused, and didn’t say get it out of your system, for which Luka was grateful. 

Luka pressed his lips together, and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You think?” 

“Yeah. It’s time, mate.” 

Luka’s shoulders hunched, and he gradually folded in on himself until his forehead rested on the table. It was cold, he noted absently. 

“Lu?” 

“I’ll think about it,” Luka sighed. 

“Don’t think about it,” Dingo advised, “Just do it. Your work sucks when you think. Just…get it out. You’re going to choke on it if you don’t, anyway.” 

Luka snorted softly. “I gotta go,” he said, quietly, and didn’t wait for an answer as he hung up the phone. He put it carefully on the table next to him, and folded his arms around his head. His breathing had gone shaky and it was loud in spite of the road noise and raised voices coming through his window. Some detached, blank corner of his mind listened to the rhythm of his harsh breaths drowning out the sound of the world rolling by, listened to the rhythm change as his eyes began to sting, listened to it become stuttery and uneven as breaths became sobs. Later, when he could play, when he could hear the music again, he would need that rhythm. But for now, it just felt...silent. Empty. No music. No color. 

No smiles, no laughter. No stuttering, no crescendo to that’s not what I meant, Luka! and no sighs of exasperation that always ended in comforting hugs given and received. No late night calls, no trading frustrations and mock threats. No quiet whispering of fears that couldn’t be admitted beyond the quiet space beyond the two of them. 

He had to let all that go. She had let him go, and he had to respect it. 

But it hurt. It hurt a lot, and he sat with his head down on his tiny table and cried, mourning the loss of something that had been such a huge part of his life. 

***

In the end, he wrote a whole album full of songs. He wrote hopeful songs. He wrote sad songs. He wrote angry songs. He wrote his love and his heartbreak and he didn’t stop until it was all out. He wrote it, he recorded it, he performed it, throwing his entire self into his work, both the recording and the performing. Night after night he relived his heartbreak in front of crowds of screaming strangers, and every night he went back to his hotel room feeling like he’d left a piece of himself on stage, wondering if he left enough pieces then it wouldn’t hurt anymore, or when the repetition would finally dull the pain. He fell asleep exhausted and woke up empty, and somehow had to find it in himself to do it all again.

Critics praised his musicality. Fans gushed about his sincerity and passion (and, of course, his good looks). Gossip magazines passed rumors of conflict in the band, affairs with his personnel, and speculated on his diet and weight changes. They published pictures of him haggard and depressed with theories about his deteriorating mental state, and gleefully predicted the band’s downfall when the bass player left, or was kicked out, depending on the “source.” Ticket sales soared through it all. 

And then when the tour was over, proclaimed a wild success, Luka Couffaine disappeared. Vanished from the music scene like he had never been. A sabbatical, his publicist assured the press and his disappointed but devoted fans. He’d be back, recharged and ready to create. 

A breakdown, suggested the tabloids. Maybe even a drug spiral. They published photos of him with his head in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Maybe he was in some celebrity rehab facility somewhere. His fans scoffed. Everyone knew he struggled with headaches, ever since he had had to stop a show in Sweden to ask them to change the lights. He had admitted it and everyone loved him for his vulnerability and humanity. Addicted to prescription painkillers, countered the tabloids, to the outrage of Luka’s defenders.

His representatives only reiterated what they had always said, and the press’s search for him went nowhere. Eventually, they ran out of news, or even rumors. Fans mourned and hoped by turns.

But the entertainment industry moves quickly, and before too long, Luka Couffaine was forgotten. 

Fiction Master Post

[dalishious]

Running Commentary: The Masked Empire Ch 13 & 14

TL;DR: Gaspard finds Mihris still alive, and they agree to work together to catch up to Celene's party, with Mihris desiring revenge against Michel. Briala decides Celene isn't to blame for the genocide she committed, If You Really Think About It™. Weekes is a blood quantum supporter, apparently.

—————

Well folks, we're 5 chapters + an epilogue away from finishing this shit, and I kinda wanna try to burn my way through the rest of it while I have the drive to do so. My goal is to do at least one chapter each night. We'll see how that goes lol.

Anyway, let's get to it...

Celene, Briala, Michel, and Felassan find the nearest eluvian in an ancient elven burial chamber, but decide to get some rest before venturing into it.

Something of note: I wonder if the pools described here are of the same nature as the vir'abelasan? Celene assumes they are bathing tubs, but describes an uneasy feeling about them: "Whether it was the runes etched into the metal or the hard angles and corners, something in the shape of it said that this was not meant for her." It's nothing important though, as the pool is empty. Just a thought.

Meanwhile, Gaspard is on Celene's trail, though he is slowed by the sylvans with the help of his employed apostate, Lienne. Remache is nervous about working with the mage, but Gaspard eases his fears by promising to kill Lienne if necessary.

Eventually they come to the Dalish camp, or rather, what's left of it. All the elves have been killed, save for one: Mihris. Mihris explains what happened to the camp, and also that she made a deal with Imshael to be able to track down Michel, who she wants to kill in revenge for the destruction of her clan.

I think it's interesting that Mihris blames Michel for the death of her clan, and not Imshael. Because she does not see the demon as capable of full sentience, perhaps? It could be interpreted as insight on Dalish perspectives on spirits/demons, if this is what Mihris was taught. Comparing it to what is written about Dalish beliefs in spirits in WoTv1, it does add up. Don't get me wrong, I think Michel absolutely shares responsibility, because he was the one that freed the demon--just like if someone were to assist in a murder, you'd still hold them accountable for that assistance--but ultimately the deaths were at Imshael's hand.

The next morning, Briala reflects on Celene's mass murder, and has fully accepted that she is to blame more than Celene, because... *checks notes* right, because she wasn't there to stop Celene from doing it.

What had happened at Halamshiral was a still-painful ache, but the elves had rebelled. Celene had done what she had to do. Had Briala been there, she might have been able to turn Celene to a different course, but Briala herself was the one who had left.

Jesus fucking christ, Weekes. Like, I'm all for fucked up relationships if they are fully intentional and acknowledged to be just that, because juicy drama and all... but this does not feel like such a case. Especially when taking the fact that the player can actually put these two back together in DA:I and they are celebrated as a happy couple. And so all it does is gives me the creepy crawlies, reading this.

Anyway. Celene's magic ruby unlocks the eluvian, and they venture forth. Immediately, it's described that for elves, the Crossroads (though it's not called that in this book) feels like a wonderfully magical place that loves their very presence, while humans find it revolting and fatiguing. Felassan explains that this is because the land was made for elves, which Celene... and Michel... aren't.

Excen't Michel IS an elf. At least, just as much an elf as he is human! So basically Weekes just stumbled ass first into a fucking blood quantum argument, considering that elves are a metaphor for Indigenous peoples, in support of the idea that you are somehow less of a person if you are mixed.

ANYWAY. Felassan takes the opportunity of he and Briala being able to travel much faster through the Crossroads to plant the seed that Celene will not honour the deal she made to free the elves. Briala at this point still defends Celene, though. While Felassan and Briala talk, so do Celene and Michel. Michel asks if Briala can truly be trusted to follow Celene's needs.

“This wretched place makes my eyes ache, Majesty, but for her, it is the dream of elven greatness come to life. Do you expect her to come out of this land and put her servant’s mask back on?” “I do.” Celene spoke with confidence, but she squinted up ahead all the same to where Briala and Felassan walked far ahead. “Bria has helped me play the Game for years, Michel. I doubt that an enchanted path will change that.”

This scene to me is the first sign that Celene does not, in fact, have the heart to keep her promise to Briala, because at the end of the day, because she doesn't think she'll have to. She believes that no matter what, Briala will always be there to serve her.

Discussions come to a halt when the group face walking corpses. Michel takes the lead, and is able to defeat them, but by the time he does so, Gaspard's party has caught up to them. A fight ensues, but with all the magical casting from Mihris and Felassan, more walking corpses awake.

[bellaireland1981]

UPDATE

This week/weekend I am working on:

Starting Over Ch 14 (I know I suck at keeping regular updates on this!)

Jake one shot for Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge

POSSIBLY a part 2 coming for Classroom Visits

I've had a busier week than normal at work though so I'm not making promises!

[goldeneyedgirl]

Can you share anything about the continuation of STL?! That last chapter was everything I just want them happy and touchy now ghjogfdfhhvd

The next few chapters or the sequel?

I can tell you I have written nothing for 14 or 15 yet, so that'll be fun. 16 and 17 have a decent chunk done. 18 doesn't even have a document yet. 15 needs a new chapter quote because I'm not feeling the current one right now. I doubt any of them will be as long as ch 13.

For the sequel... it's still quite nebulous about how I approach it right now. I'm playing with a couple of concepts to see how they work and how they can play out. I'm still on the fence about whether to introduce Renesmee. She has pros and cons.

Mary-Alice and Peter get their reunion, and they both behave with as much dignity as first graders fighting over a juice box.

Edward and Bella get engaged because that's just inevitable.

Jasper has a Moral Quandary to deal with.

Mary-Alice continues to unpack her trauma.

Rose gets to be correct.

Violence occurs.

A flower crown appears.

That's all I can offer right now. I will, however, warn you that SLT2 ('Light in the Dark') will not be immediately posted after STL. I'm taking a small break from it to write ahead, and to get All These Broken Things finally posted before jumping back in. But the ending of STL will hold you over, I promise.

[crusty-chronicles]

Wonky Uploading Schedule???

I am actively working on Moon and Sun, and a few requests. I'm just so preoccupied with college right now so bear with me. I promise the ball will get rolling pretty soon. Either by the end of this or next week. I haven't left y'all I promise!!!! I know uploads have been inconsistent but I promise they're coming. Soooo, here's what I have planned in the order they're going up.

1. Moon and Sun ch 14 + ch 12 alternate choice.

Bonus airheaded Headcannons: Zoro (One Piece).

Not So bad ch 2 (Hiei x Apprentice/little reader)

Moon and Sun Halloween Special

Forgiveness and Acceptance ch 2

This is just what I have planned, the request I've gotten will most likely be between uploads.

Anyways, have a fantastic day 💞💞💞