#however. what was the point of the meeting?

[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand. 

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring. 

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re- 

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast. 

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again. 

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck. 

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to. 

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand. 

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts. 

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt. 

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

-

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled. 

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust. 

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you. 

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────ENEMIES IN PUBLIC, LOVERS IN SECRET.

(🐰) ── 𝓟ARK SUNGHOON﹙성훈﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ secret relationship ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ petnames ៸ sunghoon’s very han seojun coded hehe !! :3 ៸ ❞ badboy! sunghoon x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 1.0K ꒱ SYPNoSiS 𐙚 in the quiet of your schools’ hallways, sunghoon reminds you why he’s always worth dealing with the chaos .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

AS THE CLASS PRESIDENT, it was your duty to maintain peace and order in the classroom.

to make sure the “rule-breakers” faced the suitable consequences, the hardworking students were recognized, and the teachers never had to deal with unnecessary chaos.

it was exhausting work, but you took pride in it.

and then there was park sunghoon—your secret boyfriend, and your carefully hidden exception.

to everyone else, he was the bad boy delinquent who barely showed up to class, skipped homework assignments, and got into arguments with authority figures.

the exact epitome of everything you were supposed to oppose.

but to you, when you two were alone, he was the complete opposite—someone entirely different—a boy with a soft laugh, a charming smile just for you, and a certain way of looking at you that made your heart race every single time. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you and sunghoon had agreed to keep your relationship a secret. it was better that way. after all, what would people say if they found out the class president and the class delinquent were dating?

it would be a messy scandal. so, you and sunghoon perfected the art of pretending.

during the day, you were enemies, constantly bickering and exchanging snarky words.

but when the halls were empty, you were his.

today started out like any other typical day at your school—sunghoon hadn’t bothered showing up to homeroom, as usual, and you were busy running around, making sure everyone was prepared for the upcoming student council meeting.

it was tiring work, but at least it kept your mind off your boyfriend who didn’t reply to your texts since last night.

that is, until he strolled into class halfway through the period, late as always. his uniform was untucked, his tie loose around his neck, and he had that infuriating grin painted across his face.

the teacher barely looked up from her lecture, clearly used to his antics by now.

you shot him a glare as he slid into his seat near the back, but he only winked at you, his smile widening.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to look away. he was so frustrating. how could he make you swoon and seethe all at once?

it wasn’t long before his troublemaking streak caught up with him—when the teacher called on him for an answer, he responded with a crude comment that had the class stifling their laughter.

the teacher, however, was not amused.

“out in the hallway at once, park sunghoon!” she snapped, pointing to the door with furrowed brows—at this point, sunghoon was probably the cause of those wrinkles on her forehead.

with an exaggerated sigh, sunghoon stood and made his way out of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

he barely looked fazed as he took up his punishment—standing outside with his hands on his head, posing with nonchalance.

you tried to focus on the lecture, but your gaze kept drifting to the doorway. why did he have to be so difficult?

your next class president task required you to deliver a stack of papers to the student council room.

as you stepped into the hallway, you were so focused on balancing the stack folders in your arms that you didn’t notice sunghoon until it was too late.

the collision was out of nowhere—your foot tumbled over the other. the stack of papers scattered, and you braced yourself for the hard and sudden impact of the floor.

but it never came.

instead, a strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back up just before you fell.

you blinked up, startled, to find yourself inches away from sunghoon’s face—his hand was steady, resting on your waist, his other catching your wrist to keep you upright.

“careful president,” he murmured, his voice a whisper and teasing. “you almost took a pretty hard fall there.”

your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to collect yourself. “i-i’m fine hoon. let me go.”

he didn’t budge, his grip firm yet gentle as he tilted his head to look down at you. “you’re always running around so much baby, maybe you should slow down hm?”

your cheeks flushed pink, both from his words and the way his hand lingered on your waist. “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“hmm.” he smirked, finally releasing you but not before stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

your breath hitched. it was a tone only you knew—the soft, teasing warmth he saved just for you.

“stop it,” you hissed under your breath, glancing nervously toward the classroom door.

he chuckled, bending down to collect the scattered papers. “relax. no one’s watching.”

still, you couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through your chest as he handed the papers back to you.

his fingers brushed against yours, and he gave you a look that was so infuriatingly tender it made you want to explode in screams.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, adjusting the stack in your arms and turning to leave.

“wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

you paused, glancing over your shoulder. “what?”

sunghoon took a step closer, his smirk giving up to something gentler—his hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

before you could process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your lips.

your entire body froze, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“you looked like you needed that,” he murmured, his lips pointing into a grin.

you stared at him, doe eyed and speechless. heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find your voice. “y-you can’t just—”

“shh,” he interrupted, placing his finger on your lips to silence you, his grin turning mischievous. “don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

unable to form a coherent response, you spun around and bolted down the hallway, your heart in your throat.

behind you, sunghoon’s laughter echoed softly, followed by his teasing voice calling after you—

“you’re so cute when you run away, president.”

and though you wanted to be mad, you couldn’t help the way your lips turned into a smile as you clutched the papers to your chest, your heart still racing from his touch.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. ITS FRIDAY !! this week was actually so stressful i’m so sorry for the inactivity guys :( after january my active era will be making a comeback due to semester changes hehe 😋😋 my ts concert is next friday i’m so excited goodbye.

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (2); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 6.6k+

Chapter Warnings: talks about culture, your mom is a meanie

A/N: literally fighting the urge to rewatch crazy rich asians right now omg. anyways, i'm having so much fun writing this because i love explaining every little thing in detail, and this series gives me so many opportunities to do so. let me know your thoughts <3

part 2

“I can’t believe this.” Jungkook breathes out, sinking into the plush comfort of Yoongi’s ridiculously soft mattress. He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing as he tries to process everything he had found out during the eventful lunch he just had with Yoongi's family.

It feels like the ground beneath him has shifted. You’re not exactly who he thought you were. Not that he had preconceived notions about your life, but this? This was on an entirely different level. “I wonder why she never told me.” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Yoongi chuckles from across the room as he pulls back the heavy, luxurious curtains, flooding the space with the warm afternoon light. His bedroom is just as opulent as the rest of the mansion... floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern furniture, and an aesthetic that screams understated wealth.

“I mean… maybe she didn’t want to show off.” Yoongi suggests casually, as if being from an ultra-rich family is something people hide every day. “Yeah… like you.” Jungkook points out, sitting up and gesturing around the room.

His eyes narrow as they take in every detail. “You never told me you were this...” he pauses, glancing pointedly at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the antique show piece on the side table, and the impossibly soft bedding beneath him “...rich.”

Yoongi smirks as he leans against the window frame, arms crossed. “What can I say? I’m humble like that.”

Jungkook groans, leaning back on the mattress as he throws an arm over his face. “My whole life is a lie. You’re telling me I’ve been surrounded by literal multimillionaires this whole time and I didn’t have a single clue?” His voice is half-frustrated, half-bewildered, and the wide-eyed expression on his face makes Yoongi snort with laughter.

“Come on, you’re being dramatic.” Yoongi teases, his tone light but with a knowing smirk. It’s almost laughable coming from him... the same guy who was practically losing his mind over you back in the dining room. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” he adds casually, as if he hadn’t been the one freaking out just moments ago.

“Not that big of a deal?” Jungkook echoes, sitting up with an incredulous look. “You live in a mansion. You drive a car that costs more than my entire apartment building. And now I find out my girlfriend is a part of one of the most powerful families in the country?” He shakes his head, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.”

Yoongi grins, clearly entertained by his friend’s over-the-top reaction. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.” he jokes. Jungkook shoots him a look. “I’m on the verge of an existential crisis, and you’re laughing at me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Yoongi says with a shrug, making Jungkook groan again.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about that damn tea party ceremony thing I have to go to, this evening.” Jungkook sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

His fingers thread through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what to expect after everything I’ve learned today.” He breathes out heavily, as though the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

“Don’t stress it.” Yoongi replies, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant as he leans back in his chair. He looks completely at ease, like Jungkook hadn’t just had his world turned upside down in the span of a few minutes.

Jungkook stares at him, exasperated. “How can I not? I don’t know if I’ll even be able to fit in. Everyone there will probably take one look at me and smell the filth on me. They’ll know right away that I’m a completely different breed compared to them.” he huffs, gesturing dramatically to make his point.

Yoongi stifles a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Jungkook counters, his tone sharp. “I’m just some regular guy. I grew up in a tiny apartment with my mom, eating instant ramen and working part-time jobs to get by. These people... your people... live in literal mansions and probably eat gold-flaked caviar for breakfast or something.” he rambles.

Yoongi finally bursts out laughing, the sound making Jungkook scowl even more. “Gold-flaked caviar? That’s a bit too much, even for us.” Yoongi teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “But seriously, You’re overthinking it.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his insecurities bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get it. I’m not like them. I don’t know the rules, or how to act, or what to say or how... how to dress. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” he says, covering his face as the stress surges through his veins.

"Well, since you brought it up... do you have an outfit for the evening?" Yoongi questions. Jungkook shrugs, a bit unsure. “Well, I have this simple suit. It’s... it's this black-”

“No way.” Yoongi interrupts, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s no way you’re wearing a simple black suit to this thing.”

Jungkook blinks, taken aback. “What’s wrong with a simple black suit?” he asks, genuinely perplexed.

Yoongi clicks his tongue like a disappointed teacher, standing up from his seat. “This won’t do. Follow me.” he says briskly, already turning on his heels. Jungkook barely has time to react before Yoongi is leading him down the hall and into what can only be described as a dream closet.

The room is enormous, with racks of clothing neatly arranged by color and style. Spotlights illuminate the array of designer outfits, from tailored suits to silk shirts and everything in between.

Shelves line the walls, displaying polished leather shoes, neatly folded ties, and an impressive collection of watches. A faint, luxurious scent lingers in the air, and Jungkook can’t help but gape at the sheer extravagance of it all.

“Okay, let’s see.” Yoongi mutters, his sharp eyes scanning the racks like a man on a mission. He pulls out a prussian blue short coat with clean, sharp lines and a tailored fit. The material has a subtle texture that exudes luxury without being flashy. “This is so so sleek and I think this should be perfect for tonight.” he muses.

“Blue?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s the move?”

Yoongi smirks. “I don't think... I know it is.” He sets the coat aside and grabs a light blue silky dress shirt, its soft sheen adding just the right amount of elegance. “This will add a little softness. Plus, it’s classy as hell.” he explains.

Before Jungkook can protest, Yoongi moves to another section, pulling out matching prussian blue trousers. “These match the coat...” he softly says, more to himself.

Yoongi then crouches down to the shoe shelf, grabbing a pair of sleek black loafers “And these... for your feet.” He stands back up and makes his way to the display of accessories.

“We’ll keep it simple...” he murmurs, looking around and a few seconds later, he picks out a delicate diamond brooch shaped like a flower. “This is gonna add just the right amount of sophistication without being too much.” he smiles, proud of himself for the fashion choices he's making.

“Try it on.” Yoongi orders, shoving the outfit into Jungkook’s arms.

Jungkook hesitates, still overwhelmed by how much thought Yoongi has put into this. “Isn’t this… a bit too much for a tea... party?”

“Not for this one.” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Trust me, this is how you blend in while still making a statement.. you're gonna thank me for this.”

A few minutes later, Jungkook emerges from the dressing area, and Yoongi’s face lights up in approval, completely satisfied with his work.

The prussian blue coat fits Jungkook perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders, while the silky light blue shirt adds a sophisticated edge. The trousers and polished loafers complete the look, and the diamond brooch glimmers subtly, tying everything together seamlessly. (jungkook's full outfit if u want to visualize it)

Yoongi whistles low, nodding. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You look insanely good.” he claps. Jungkook glances at himself in the mirror, stunned by the transformation. “I look… fancy.” he mutters, running a hand down the soft fabric of the coat.

Yoongi smirks. “You look expensive. And that’s exactly the point.”

//

As the clock strikes 5, Jungkook’s phone buzzes with a message from you. It’s the address of the place he’s supposed to go. The pit in his stomach deepens as he reads it... nerves gnawing at him now that the event feels real and imminent.

He stands in Yoongi’s room, fidgeting with the cuffs of the silky dress shirt he's wearing, while Yoongi carefully styles his hair. After a few minutes of fussing, Yoongi steps back, his expression satisfied. “There.... perfect.” he quips with a smirk.

Jungkook sighs, taking in his reflection. He looks different... polished, refined, like someone who owns a portfolio full of stocks and leaves enormous tips at fancy restaurants without a second thought. He tilts his head, still processing the transformation.

“Let’s head out?” Yoongi suggests, and though still hesitant, Jungkook nods, grabbing his phone and wallet before following Yoongi downstairs.

When they step outside, the familiar luxury of Yoongi's estate greets him and he instantly notices that this time, Yoongi has opted for a different car... a sleek, deep-red Ferrari Roma. The polished exterior gleams under the fading daylight, and Jungkook can’t help but gawk. "This car looks like it belongs in a museum." he mutters, still trying to process Yoongi’s absurdly lavish lifestyle.

The same guard from earlier appears, carrying Jungkook’s luggage, which he efficiently loads into the the car's surprisingly spacious trunk. Yoongi slides into the driver’s seat, revving the engine, and the low, throaty hum fills the air.

Jungkook gets into the passenger seat, muttering under his breath, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

Yoongi chuckles as he adjusts the rearview mirror. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, Yoongi, for giving me a taste of luxury.’” he jokes.

The ride to the address you’ve shared isn’t long, but with each passing kilometer, Jungkook grows more apprehensive. The city’s bustling streets fade away, replaced by quieter, tree-lined roads. And as the sun finally sets, the atmosphere feels secluded and serene, the kind of area reserved for only the wealthiest of the wealthy.

By the time they approach the destination, it’s almost completely dark, and the surroundings are cloaked in shadow. Eventually, the headlights illuminate a massive iron gate adorned with intricate designs, the kind that looks custom-made and costs more than an average car.

Tall stone pillars flank the gate, with elegant golden lettering engraved on plaques— 'The Kims' etched prominently.

The GPS pings, signaling they’ve arrived. Before Jungkook can say a word, the gates swing open automatically, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with towering, perfectly trimmed trees. A soft glow from decorative lanterns illuminates the path, casting an ethereal ambiance over the grounds.

“Is this a driveway or a runway?” Jungkook mutters as the car rolls forward. The sheer length of the driveway seems surreal and it takes them almost five minutes to reach the end.

When they finally arrive, Yoongi slams on the brakes, his jaw dropping. “Holy fuck…” he breathes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His voice is barely above a whisper as he asks, “Are you seeing this?”

Jungkook stares, utterly gobsmacked. Before them stands an enormous mansion, more like a palace than a home. The architecture is a seamless blend of modern elegance and classic grandeur.

A sprawling facade of pristine white marble reflects the soft golden lights strategically placed along the perimeter. Massive glass windows stretch across the mansion, framed by intricate black ironwork.

A fountain stands proudly in the center of the circular driveway, water cascading gracefully in the glow of ambient lights. The front doors are enormous, crafted from dark wood and adorned with golden handles that look like they belong in a royal palace.

Behind the mansion, faint silhouettes of sprawling gardens and additional wings of the estate hint at just how vast this property is. Jungkook feels like he’s stepped into a movie. His voice is barely audible as he murmurs. “This… This is where Y/N lives?”

“Dude...” Yoongi says, still staring at the mansion. “I told you my place would be nothing compared to this.”

As Yoongi is still marveling at the house, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he’s afraid to blink and miss something, Jungkook’s gaze drifts beyond the car's window.

Near the expansive lawn and the grand entrance of the mansion, groups of people mingle, their laughter and chatter carried on the soft evening breeze. It’s all so overwhelming, but then his eyes land on you, and suddenly, the world seems to still.

You’re standing by the grand double doors, chatting with two women who appear equally elegant. But his focus is entirely on you. You’re dressed in a stunning emerald green gown that hugs your figure just right.

The strapless design accentuates your shoulders and collarbones, and the gown flows down in soft, silky waves, brushing against the floor with every slight movement. A string of delicate pearls adorns your chest, their soft sheen catching the light with each turn of your head.

Your hair is styled in a way that frames your face beautifully, soft tendrils brushing against your cheeks. The golden glow of the mansion’s lights reflects in your eyes, making them look like the night sky dotted with stars.

You smile at something one of the girls says, and that smile... it’s the kind that makes Jungkook’s heart skip a beat, the kind that could light up even the darkest of nights.

As he sits there in Yoongi’s car, rooted to his seat, he can’t help but take in your beauty. The way you carry yourself with such grace and confidence, as though you were born to belong in a setting as grand as this. Jungkook feels his throat tighten. How? How on earth had someone like him... ordinary, flawed, and a complete mess half the time, ever managed to end up with someone like you?

You’re perfect, he thinks, in every sense of the word. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your laughter carries, soft and melodic, across the air. He feels a pang of disbelief, as though at any moment someone might tap him on the shoulder and tell him it’s all been a dream.

His hand clenches slightly against his knee as he leans back into the seat, still staring at you, unable to look away.

And like magic, your eyes meet his from across the expanse. It’s as though the crowd and the grandeur of the mansion fade into nothing, leaving just the two of you in your own world.

Your expression instantly lights up, a radiant smile spreading across your face. You excuse yourself from the two women without the slightest bit of hesitation, your steps purposeful as you make your way towards the car parked by the grand fountain.

“Oh my god, she’s coming… she’s coming here.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, panic and exhilaration twisting together in his chest. His words snap Yoongi out of his trance, but before Yoongi can even react, Jungkook is already out of the car.

“Baby... you made it.... Hi.” you say, your voice sweet and filled with warmth as you approach him. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The faint scent of your perfume envelops him, soft and comforting, and for a moment, he’s too stunned to move.

Just seconds ago, Jungkook’s mind had been a mixture of nerves and doubts, the unfamiliar surroundings and the weight of everything he’d learned earlier still pressing on him. But now, as he feels your arms around him and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, all of that melts away.

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. In your embrace, the humoungous mansion, the status of those around him, and the intimidating luxury that surrounded him, no longer mattered. None of it.

Right here, right now, he feels safe. He feels like he belongs... not with the wealth, not with the prestige, but with you. It’s in the way your presence calms his racing heart, in the way your touch grounds him. With you, it feels like home.

And in that moment, he knows. No matter how out of place he might feel in this world of opulence, as long as he has you, he’ll always belong.

“Ahem.” Yoongi clears his throat, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches the two of you pull away from the hug. He stands by the side of the car, arms casually crossed, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. His gaze flicks between you and Jungkook, his eyebrows wiggling as if to silently ask... Are you going to introduce me, or what?

Jungkook’s eyes travel to Yoongi, and the subtle shift in his expression tells Yoongi that he’s caught on to the unspoken request. He gives a small, sheepish chuckle, the tension that had lingered before, now dissipating.

“Babe, this is Yoongi.” he says, his voice soft but genuine as he reaches out to encircle your waist again, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your back. He turns his head to Yoongi with a grin. “And Yoongi… this is Y/n.”

You look at Yoongi, a warm and open smile immediately spreading across your face. You’ve only heard bits and pieces of stories about him from Jungkook, but you already have a good sense of his nature. “Yoongi, hi!” you greet him, your voice bubbling with kindness.

“Thank you so much for bringing him. I'm a little mad at you for stealing him away from me on his very first day here...” you tease, your eyes sparkling as you glance up at Jungkook. “But I still get it. I guess I’ll forgive you... only this time, though.”

Yoongi chuckles, genuinely amused by your playfulness. He raises his arms, giving a mock bow, and offers a teasing apology. “I apologize. But thank you for letting him come meet me. It was really nice catching up after all these years." he sincerely says.

You smile at the sentiment, inching closer to Jungkook as you move past the brief formality. The three of you stand for a moment, the evening breeze and the sound of the water splashing in the fountain, wrapping around you.

The conversation feels comfortable, like a warm, shared space where everyone is still figuring each other out but already enjoying the connections being made.

Then, with a sudden idea that seems to come naturally to you, you look up at Yoongi with a soft but insistent smile. “Why don’t you join us tonight? It’ll be fun.” you suggest, your tone light but sincere.

Yoongi looks like he’s about to refuse, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he opens his mouth to protest. “Oh, my god, no. It’s alright, really-”

You cut him off gently, your voice light with the promise of something easy and enjoyable. “Oh, come on. It’ll be amazing. Besides you're already here and I would feel like a horrible person if I just sent you away without an invitation. Plus, I'm pretty sure you'll find some you know in there.. so please, do come.”

Yoongi hesitates again, the pull of his curiosity and the warmth of your invitation winning him over. But deep down, he knows he’d be stupid to refuse. Why the hell wouldn’t he want to spend his evening at the Kim estate, soaking in the luxury and splendor?

“Well... if you insist…” Yoongi begins, finally giving in with a playful smirk. “I’d be honored to stay.”

Jungkook watches the exchange with a soft grin on his lips, his heart swelling with a quiet affection for you. In moments like these, it’s impossible not to marvel at how effortlessly you make everyone feel at ease.

Your ability to connect with anyone, to put people at ease with your calm demeanor and genuine interest, is one of the things he admires the most about you.

//

As the three of you enter the mansion, Jungkook’s eyes immediately widen at the sheer gloriousness of the place. The space is expansive, and the walls are adorned with elegant artwork, framed portraits, and intricate carvings that speak of a long history of wealth and taste.

The air smells faintly of fresh flowers and something warm, like vanilla, and the soft lighting gives the house an intimate yet sophisticated feel. He can’t help but be in awe, his footsteps slowing as he takes in the magnificent surroundings. From the grand chandeliers overhead to the tastefully arranged furniture, every corner is meticulously curated.

Suddenly, Yoongi is distracted by a familiar face in the crowd... a friend of his, evidently, who bumps into him as they walk into the entryway. "Yooooo...Yoongi, What are you doing here, dude?" the man beams, instantly dapping him up.

Yoongi’s expression shifts from casual to excited as he greets the man, and soon enough, they’re deep in conversation, his attention completely absorbed by the exchange.

Seizing the moment, you lean over to Jungkook and softly whisper. “Come on, let's leave Yoongi to catch up with his friend." you simply say.

Without giving him an opportunity to agree or protest, you take Jungkook’s hand and lead him up the grand staircase, the polished wooden steps creaking slightly beneath your heels.

The second floor seems even quieter than the first, with only the distant murmur of conversation from the living room and the lawn below. The hallway is empty, the walls lined with family portraits and antique furniture that speaks of both elegance and history.

As you walk down the long corridor, Jungkook follows quietly, his hand wrapped around yours, the warmth of your touch grounding him.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch his gaze and flash him a playful, flirty smile. Then, with effortless grace, you turn to face him, continuing to walk backwards, your eyes never leaving his, a teasing glint dancing in them.

A comfortable silence settles between you two as your eyes take him in. He looks undeniably charming. The way the outfit fits him, accentuating his sharp features, makes your heart flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

Even though you’ve only been apart for a few hours, you’ve missed him deeply. Unable to find the right words, you let your gaze speak for you, your eyes lingering on him with warmth and admiration, as if memorizing every detail.

“Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the stillness, and you can't help but giggle at the awe in his expression.

His eyes glint with admiration, the kind of look that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He’s not hiding his feelings, and it’s evident from the way he glances at you, his gaze tracing your figure as if trying to etch every detail into his mind.

You feel a spark ignite inside you at his words, but you manage a smile, keeping your composure as you look at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” you tease, your steps slowing as he steps closer, releasing your fingers from his hold as he places his hands on your waist, halting you in your tracks.

The corridor feels quieter now, the faint hum of distant chatter fading into the background as his presence fills the space. He pulls you closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “I missed you.” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest, his gaze flickering to your lips. And as though it’s second nature, he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss.

A smile curls on your lips as you kiss him back, the warmth of the moment sending a flurry of butterflies through you. You can’t understand how he always manages to have this effect on you, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“I missed you too.” you whisper as he pulls away, your eyes catching the faint shimmer of your lip gloss now smudged on his lips.

Despite the intimate moment you’ve just shared, you can’t help but laugh softly. He tilts his head in slight confusion, his brow arching adorably. Without saying a word, you take his hand again, leading him forward down the corridor.

“Come on, I want to show you my room.” you say, your voice light and eager as you guide him further into the corridor.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in eagerness as you lead him further down the corridor, past several closed doors. The silence around you both feels almost comforting, as if this is a moment just for the two of you... away from the grandiose of the house and the people downstairs. You’re aware of the weight of the space around you, but in this moment, you’re only aware of him.

“I’ve lived in this house ever since I was a baby...” you continue, your voice quiet but soft, allowing a sense of nostalgia to seep in. “After moving out to New York, the one thing I missed the most was my room.” You look up at him, your smile deepening. “So... I really just... wanted to show it to you.”

Jungkook seems struck by your words, his curiosity piqued, but you don’t elaborate further. You can tell he’s fascinated by the house... he’s seen enough of it already to know it’s not just a regular mansion, but you’re careful not to make him feel overwhelmed.

You don’t want him to think you’re bragging or showing off, not when it comes to your family’s history or the house that’s been passed down for generations. It’s always been a part of you, but you’ve always hated the idea of people seeing you through the lens of privilege.

You’ve never been the type to flaunt it, but the quiet discomfort always lingers. The fear that people will think you’re trying to distance yourself from others or act like you’re somehow above them. It’s why you’ve never told Jungkook much about your background, not in the way some people might expect. You didn’t want him to misunderstand.

As you round a corner and approach your door, Jungkook glances at you, sensing that there’s something more beneath the surface of your words. He opens his mouth to ask, but you cut him off gently with a soft smile, knowing he’ll get to know everything in time.

For now, all that matters is this moment, and as you unlock the door to your room, you can’t help but feel an odd sense of calm. You’ve never shared this part of yourself with anyone before... not like this. But with him, it feels like you’re finally letting him see all of you.

As you switch the lights on, a soft glow fills the room, instantly giving it a warm, inviting ambiance. Jungkook takes a step inside, his gaze sweeping over the delicate details that make up the space. The walls are painted in a blush pink hue, accentuated by crown molding in a creamy white tone.

The furniture matches the aesthetic, with an elegant white queen sized bed and a quilted headboard adorned with tiny, pearl-like studs.

There’s a fluffy cream rug sprawled across the polished wooden floor, and a cozy armchair tucked into the corner beside a tall bookshelf that’s overflowing with colorful novels, fashion magazines and trinkets.

The vanity table by the window catches his attention, its surface sprinkled with makeup items, a small vase of fresh flowers, and neatly arranged bottles of perfume. Above it, a mirror framed with soft golden lights reflects the subtle shimmer of the space.

The walls are brought to life with framed posters of iconic bands and celebrities, each placed thoughtfully, as though telling a story. A string of Polaroid pictures hangs on the wall near the bed, giving the room a personal, nostalgic touch.

He notices little figurines of 'Hello Kitty' on a floating shelf and a small collection of plush toys sitting in a basket near the window seat. The room feels youthful and dreamy, like stepping into a snapshot of your childhood.

Jungkook takes it all in, pausing as his eyes land on the posters and the subtle quirks that reveal glimpses of your younger self. He can’t help but imagine you here as a teenager... probably sprawled out on the bed, reading or listening to music, daydreaming about the future. The thought makes him smile, a warm fondness settling in his chest.

His thoughts are interrupted as you walk over to the vanity and pick up a picture frame, holding it up with a soft smile. “That’s me...” you say, pointing to a baby in the photo. Jungkook steps closer, curious, and his eyes fall on a little version of you, chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed. “And that... is Tae.” you continue, pointing to a young toddler that's securely holding you in his tiny arms.

Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning in to get a better look. “You still look the same.” he chuckles, his gaze shifting between the picture and you. "And Taehyung looks like he’s already ready to fight anyone who gets near you." he adds.

You laugh, gently setting the frame back down. You glance at the photo one last time, feeling a small tug of nostalgia before turning to Jungkook, who’s still looking around, clearly charmed by this intimate glimpse into your past.

"Your room is beautiful." he finally says, his voice soft with admiration as his gaze takes in the delicate details surrounding him. He can't believe he's being shown this deeply personal part of your life, and it makes him feel incredibly special.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his neck with a tender smile. "Thank you, baby. I'm so glad I could show it to you." you say, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Just as the moment seems perfect, your expression shifts like you've suddenly remembered something crucial. "Oh my god! wait... no way... I totally forgot!!" you exclaim, breaking away from him.

Jungkook is bewildered for what feels like the hundredth time today as you grab his hand and practically drag him out of the room and down the long corridor. He's still trying to process what’s happening when you lead him back downstairs. His eyes dart around, noticing the guests still lost in their conversations, oblivious to the two of you passing by.

"I told my mom I'd introduce you to her the minute you'd arrive but… I totally forgot!" you admit hurriedly, your voice tinged with a mix of excitement and guilt as you weave through the crowd.

The words hit Jungkook like a bolt of lightning, and his eyes widen in panic. Your mom? He was going to meet your mom? Right now? No warning, no preparation? He feels a surge of anxiety bubbling up in his chest.

"Wait... wait!" he halts abruptly, tugging your hand so you’re forced to turn around and look at him in confusion. "Babe, a warning would have been nice. I need to prepare myself for this moment... this is your mom we're talking about." he breathes out, clutching his chest dramatically.

You chuckle, brushing off his concerns with ease. "Oh, come on, Kook. She's just my mom. You'll be fine, I promise." you assure, gently tugging his hand again, urging him to follow you.

Reluctantly, Jungkook lets himself be led through a side door and into what appears to be the kitchen. As soon as he steps inside, he’s overwhelmed by the bustling atmosphere. The space is alive with activity... chefs moving in synchrony, slicing, plating, and perfecting dishes with meticulous attention to the tiniest details.

The scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the aroma of roasted meat and delicate spices, creating a sensory overload.

Jungkook’s gaze darts from one end of the kitchen to the other, trying to absorb everything at once. A massive spread of colorful dishes is being prepared on a long marble countertop, and he doesn’t even know where to focus. For a moment, he forgets his nerves as he marvels at the organized chaos around him.

"Stay with me." you murmur, squeezing his hand reassuringly. But Jungkook can’t help but think about how this might be the most intimidating moment of his life... meeting your mom in the middle of what feels like a five-star culinary operation.

You glance around the bustling kitchen, scanning the scene for your mom. It doesn’t take long before you spot her back as she leans slightly towards one of the chefs, gesturing animatedly while the chef nods thoughtfully, hanging on her every word.

There’s a commanding yet sophisticated presence about her, and the sight makes a smile creep onto your lips. Without hesitation, you tug Jungkook along, your excitement bubbling over. “Mama!!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of the kitchen.

At first, she doesn’t respond, too engrossed in giving precise instructions about something to the chef. You don’t mind, though because you know how focused she can get when she’s in her element.

As you approach her, you release Jungkook’s hand, letting him stand beside you as he instinctively straightens his coat, smoothing the fabric nervously.

Now only a few steps away, you finally stop, waiting patiently for her to finish her instructions. Jungkook stands a little stiffly next to you, his hands clasped in front of him as he watches the exchange, silently psyching himself up for what’s coming next.

Once she finishes instructing the chef, she finally turns around, her soft features lighting up with a smile when her eyes land on you. “Y/N.” she says warmly, acknowledging you.

Her appearance is effortlessly chic, exuding an aura of power and sophistication. Dressed in a sleek, wine colored dress paired with a delicate pearl necklace and stud earrings, she looks into your eyes.

Her posture is immaculate, shoulders back, chin high, and she carries herself with an air of unshakable authority. Her eyes... sharp and piercing, hold a fierceness that can make anyone squirm under her gaze.

She’s never been the one to smile easily, and even now, her expression holds a seriousness that makes Jungkook feel like he’s being sized up before he’s even said a word.

But when her eyes shift to Jungkook, her demeanor subtly changes. The faint smile that played on her lips moments ago falters, replaced by a look of mild disapproval.

One of her eyebrows arches as she takes in the man standing beside you, and Jungkook immediately feels the weight of her scrutiny. It’s clear from the way her gaze lingers that she’s not the least bit pleased to meet him.

“Mama, this is Jungkook.” you begin sweetly, your voice light and cheerful, as if trying to bridge the gap of tension. “I told you I was bringing him.” You smile at her, radiating warmth, but it’s met with a polite but distant smile from her, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Jungkook isn’t blind to it, he can see the coldness lurking behind her expression.

“Hello.” she finally says, her tone neutral, devoid of warmth. Her words are carefully measured, making Jungkook feel like she’s already testing him.

He feels his heart rate spike, but he doesn’t let it show. With a deep breath, he bows at a perfect right angle, his voice steady as he speaks. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He straightens up, his posture confident despite the nervous energy coursing through him.

He meets her fierce gaze head-on, determined to make a good impression, though her icy stare makes him feel like he’s being dissected.

You glance at Jungkook, noticing his effort, and squeeze his hand briefly before stepping closer to your mother, hoping to ease the tension.

She nods curtly as Jungkook introduces himself, her sharp eyes trailing over him from head to toe, as though she’s analyzing every detail.

"So, you're from New York?" she asks suddenly, her voice carrying an edge that makes Jungkook straighten his posture. The question catches him slightly off guard, but he quickly nods in acknowledgment.

"Yes, ma’am." he answers politely, his voice steady.

Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, a calculating look flashing across her face. "I'm sure you've noticed how different things are around here... in Korea." she says, her tone almost conversational, though there's an unmistakable undercurrent of something more. "Very different from your... western culture." she adds, the words laced with what feels like a taunt.

You shift uncomfortably, sensing the rising tension. Jungkook hesitates, unsure of how to respond, and you decide to step in. "Mama, he lived in Korea before he moved to New York..." you explain gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "I'm sure he knows how things are around here."

But your mother doesn't acknowledge your reassurance. Her piercing gaze stays fixed on Jungkook. "Your parents?" she asks next, one eyebrow raised, her expression unyielding.

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he answers, his tone polite but guarded. "My mom... she owns a café in New York." he replies, hoping to keep the answer straightforward.

Your mother’s expression barely changes, but Jungkook notices the faintest flicker of disapproval in her eyes. It’s subtle, but it cuts deep. "Ah... so it's only your mother, then?" she probes further, her voice calm but pointed.

You feel your stomach drop at her words, the implicit judgment in her tone impossible to miss. Your protective instincts kick in immediately, and before she can say anything more, you interject.

"Okay, Mama, that's enough interrogation for now..." you say, your voice cheerful but firm as you grab Jungkook’s hand. "We need to get going. Grandma is going to be here any minute now... and the party is going to start soon." you add.

Jungkook notices the way her eyes flick down to your intertwined hands, and her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. She doesn’t say anything, though, merely nodding stiffly as she steps back.

Before the situation can escalate further, you tug Jungkook out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As soon as you’re out of your mother's sight, you stop and turn to him, your expression apologetic.

"I am so so so sorry for that." you say quickly, your eyes scanning his face. You can see how pale he looks, the color drained from his cheeks. The conversation clearly rattled him, and it breaks your heart.

"I don’t know why she was acting like that." you continue, your voice softening as you place a comforting hand on his cheek. "I’m really sorry, baby. That wasn’t fair to you."

Jungkook exhales slowly, feeling the warmth of your palm against his skin. He hates how unsettled he feels, the subtle but unmistakable judgment in your mother’s eyes still gnawing at him.

He’s not naive, he knows exactly what her words and looks implied. But he doesn’t want to burden you with his feelings, so he forces a small smile and shrugs.

"Please... don’t apologize." he says gently, his voice calm but distant. "She’s your mother. I get why she’d question me like that... I’m dating her daughter, after all." he reasons.

His attempt to brush it off doesn’t fool you, but you decide not to push him. Instead, you give his cheek a small caress, hoping to soothe him.

Sensing the heaviness lingering between you, Jungkook shifts the conversation. "Anyways... don’t we have a tea party to get to?" he asks with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite the war in his mind.

You know he’s deflecting, choosing not to dwell on the interaction with your mother. So you let him, offering him a gentle smile in return. "We do." you reply softly, squeezing his hand. "Come on, let’s go."

As Jungkook trails behind you, the weight in his chest feels almost suffocating, each step amplifying the unease swirling in his mind.

Three weeks... that’s how long he’s going to be here for. The thought echoes in his head, heavier with every repetition.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to endure it, not when your mother’s piercing gaze feels like it sees right through him, layered with unspoken judgments that cut deeper than words ever could.

The very idea looms ahead, an uphill battle he isn’t sure he’s equipped to fight, yet one he knows he cannot avoid.

<- part 1

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy (lmk if u want to be added <3)

[yuikomorii]

// Normally, I don’t have anything against anyone expressing their opinions but there’s a difference between facts and different interpretation.

Beatrix wasn’t a perfect mother, but unlike Cordelia, she didn’t neglect, groom, or use violence against her children. While Beatrix was strict with Shu, she didn’t subject him to the same relentless pressure that Cordelia imposed on Ayato. Shu’s life is described as boring, whereas Ayato’s was marked by deception and terror, to the point where he would hide in the closet to escape Cordelia. Shu experienced strict EDUCATION, but Ayato endured strict DISCIPLINE. Shu’s trauma stems primarily from what happened to Edgar, not from Beatrix, whereas Ayato’s trauma is entirely attributed to Cordelia.

Ayato’s childhood description:

Ayato had a resilient personality, enduring strict discipline and constantly striving to be the best in order to meet his mother's expectations. However, when he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he could never obtain what he truly desired, he gave up wanting anything altogether.

Shu’s childhood description:

As the eldest son of the Sakamaki family, Shuu underwent strict elite education. The boredom of his daily life was shattered by a human child named Edgar. The two became friends, and Shuu discovered the joy of living. However, one day, Edgar's village was completely destroyed by a fire. This incident led Shuu to withdraw from interacting with people, gradually falling into apathy.

// The fact he’s the only Diaboy who has never shed any tear in 7 games (unless you count a flashback), lol.

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

So if a Mel and Caitlyn pair up defeats a dictator and wins a war (at least the first part), a Vi and Jayce team up only ever kills kids or fucks up a mission, and l then what does a Jinx and Viktor pair do? What do the other options make?

Here are my ideas, ranking from best outcome to worst or what actually gets done.

Genuinely think a Viktor Mel pair (depending on if they both have some sort of magic) save the world. Both incredibly intelligent. Both caring but can’t be manipulated by emotions easily (influenced is a different story but damn when you’ve got a terminal illness or a dictator mom it’s hard being normal). However I think the arcane writers knew the team up would be too powerful. Also incredibly sexy. If they just had tea together once I think there would be no arcane story to tell.

Cait and Viktor. Not a lot getting done but if we’re thinking season 1 then it’s gonna be so nice and calm. They’re having tea. They’re planning our improvements for Zaun. A harp sings in the distance. They talk about Jayce. Caitlyn asks questions and listens to the answers and vice versa. World peace maybe not achieved but close.

Technically Jayce helped Cait free Vi and helped cover it up, as well as help her when Caitlyn tried explaining what was going on with Silco. Very even results. Nothing major changing here but typical for people who literally just bring out nothing in each other besides…friendship? Siblings? Idk.

Vi and Viktor would probably get along in the sense of they knew an older Zaun. (At least in comparison to Jinx.) Vi can be pretty gentle and Viktor definitely cares. Battle wise he ain’t gonna do much (the only time he really fought was when it wasn’t a good thing for anyone) but he’s bring the smarts to Vi’s streets. They’re gonna win the battle but it will be tough. Some lives may be lost but it ain’t theirs.

Mel and Vi….Vi does not like politicians. Vi does not like people from Piltover beyond Caitlyn (and maybe Jayce?) They argue the whole time. Nothing bad happens but nothing gets done. It’s mostly Vi’s fault but Mel can’t let it go. It’s been three days and they haven’t left the council room. It ends with the mutual agreement to never meet again.

Technically a Cait/Jinx pair saved Vi (after the commune) and also the conversation they had in the jail was actually civil. Don’t think a whole lot is getting done but a good battle buddies I think. There’s gonna be tension though. Lots of arguing and glares. Caitlyn’s hair is now orange and Jinx lost another finger. Lots more damage than necessary.

Mel and Jinx. Someone is dying. It might not be one of them but it’s definitely someone who shouldn’t be dead. Mel’s level-headedness barely works on Vi and it definitely won’t work on Jinx. She’s never had a younger sister. Jinx knows what buttons to push. The building is on fire.

Jayce and Jinx. Mostly everyone is dead except for Vi and Viktor somehow, or the exact reverse. They haven’t stopped arguing since they met. They just keep slapping each other like cats. Jayce keeps trying to hit her with the hammer but she’s elusive and it’s like a game of wack-a-mole. He kills a kid each time instead. Jinx won’t stop making fun of him. Someone lost a limb at some point.

Jinx and Viktor. Everyone is dead. I would say they are too but no, they’re stuck at the end of the universe with each other. It’s equally both their faults. Viktor deadnames her every time she insults him. She never stops and neither does he. They each have a shrine to their respective loved one and it’s the only places they don’t bother each other. She bleached half his hair. He poured out her nail polish. They fight till the end of time itself. Sometimes they have movie nights where their respective hallucinations (Silco, Sky) join.

[bandsofmarv]

Future, past and present.

Struggling with adjusting to the new timeline. He meets someone new. Logan slowly begins to trust you, he realises that maybe—just maybe—this new timeline offers him something he thought he could never have: a second chance, and someone to share it with.

TW - not really any, fluff and angst, smut.

The cabin smelled of pinewood and faint traces of whiskey, the air heavy with a history Logan could never escape. It was quiet—too quiet for his liking. For someone used to chaos, peace was like a loaded gun: unpredictable and waiting to go off.

You, however, had brought that damned sunshine into his life. From the moment you had breezed into his space—too bright, too warm, too alive—Logan had been trying not to crack under the weight of your presence.

But you weren’t easy to ignore.

“Logan,” you called softly, your voice lilting as you stepped into the room. You carried a mug of steaming coffee, its rich aroma cutting through his brooding haze. “You’ve been staring out that window for hours.”

He grunted. “Maybe I like the view.”

You smiled, leaning against the counter, watching him with that unshakable optimism that made his chest ache. He didn’t deserve you—hell, he didn’t deserve much of anything. Not after all the bloodshed, all the lives lost on his watch.

“I’d believe that,” you teased, “if you weren’t scowling at it like it owes you money.”

He glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that could almost be called a smirk. “What do you want, darlin’?”

“Breakfast? Company?” You stepped closer, unfazed by the storm brewing in his eyes. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Logan.”

“I ain’t shutting you out,” he said gruffly, though the words felt like a lie. The truth was, you had wormed your way past his defenses before he’d even realized it. Your kindness grated against his jagged edges, smoothing them in ways that scared the hell out of him.

You placed the mug on the table in front of him and sat down, propping your chin on your hands as you stared up at him. “If you say so.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between you like an old wound. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years. “I’m just… not used to this.”

“This?” you prompted.

Logan ran a hand through his thick, graying hair, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. You didn’t press him, though the concern in your eyes was enough to chip away at his defenses. He wasn’t good at talking about this—about anything, really—but if anyone deserved an explanation, it was you.

“This… timeline,” he started, his voice rough, “it’s not where I came from. Where I was…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the mug of coffee in front of him, fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “It was hell. And I ain’t using that word lightly.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t interrupt. You just waited, patient as always, letting him find his way through the storm.

“Everyone was gone,” he said finally, the words quieter now, like they were being dragged from the deepest part of him. “Most of ‘em dead. Mutants… wiped out. Charles…” He paused, swallowing hard. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. None of ‘em did.”

You watched him carefully, your heart aching at the cracks in his usually impenetrable exterior. You’d heard whispers about his past, about what he’d been through, but he’d never opened up like this before.

“They relied on me,” Logan continued, his voice gaining an edge of bitterness. “And I failed them. Over and over again. I survived, sure, but what the hell was the point? Just to watch it all burn?”

“That wasn’t your fault,” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “You did the best you could.”

Logan’s laugh was short and humorless. “Yeah, well, my ‘best’ didn’t stop the world from falling apart.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. His skin was rough and scarred, but you squeezed gently, grounding him. “You’re here now, Logan. In a world where they’re alive, where you can make things right. That has to count for something.”

He looked at your hand over his, then up at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into the shell he kept so tightly around himself. But instead, he turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s not easy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Being here, pretending like I don’t see the ghosts of what I lost every damn day.”

“I know it’s not,” you said, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.”

Logan stared at you, something flickering in his eyes—something raw, vulnerable, and so deeply buried you almost didn’t catch it. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let the smallest sliver of that sunshine you carried seep into the cracks of his broken world.

“Guess I don’t,” he said, his voice softer now, as though the weight of his confession had lightened just a little.

You smiled, warmth radiating from you like a beacon in the dark. “Not as long as I’m around, old man.”

Logan huffed out a breath that could have been a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’.”

“And you’re too stubborn to admit you deserve it.” His hand tightened around yours. For once, he didn’t argue.

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as his gaze lingered on your face, his usual stormy eyes softening, just for a moment. Something in the air shifted, the weight of his grief replaced by something electric, something that hummed between the two of you. You felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand—tentative, almost unsure—and when your lips parted to speak, he surprised you.

Logan leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was fierce, desperate, and utterly consuming. It wasn’t graceful—nothing with Logan ever was—but it was real, raw, and filled with the kind of hunger that made your heart race.

You gasped against his lips as he pulled you into his lap, his hands finding your hips and grounding himself in the warmth of your body. “You sure about this, darlin’?” he growled, his voice rough and gravelly as he searched your eyes.

Your answer was a soft moan as you kissed him back, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging, eliciting a low rumble from his chest. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered, breathless, your lips brushing against his.

Logan didn’t need more convincing. His hands slipped under your shirt, calloused palms exploring the soft curves of your waist. He groaned as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you arch against him. Every touch, every kiss, was a testament to how much he’d been holding back, how deeply he craved you.

By the time he carried you to his bed, the quiet cabin was filled with the sounds of your shared desire. His kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as he explored every inch of you like a man trying to memorize something precious. His scars brushed against your skin, but you didn’t shy away. Instead, you welcomed him, showing him with every touch that he was safe here, with you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your body bathed in the dim light of the room. His hands roamed your curves, his lips following, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

You pulled him closer, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, marveling at his strength and vulnerability. “Logan,” you gasped, the sound of his name on your lips driving him wild. He groaned as he finally gave in, his movements slow but intense, savoring the way your body responded to his.

It wasn’t just about lust—it was more. In every kiss, every touch, there was a depth of emotion that neither of you had dared to voice before. He wasn’t just claiming your body; he was baring his soul, trusting you with the broken pieces of himself.

And as the night stretched on, Logan finally allowed himself to let go, to let you in, and to believe—if only for a moment—that he might deserve this happiness after all.

[elvensorceress]

very late wip wednesday that is not wednesday at all I'm sorry but have snickerdoodles of longing?

@daisyssousa @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @singitforthegirls @bekkachaos @sunflower-eddiediaz @hotshotsxyz @epicbuddieficrecs @daffi-990 @blutterlie @exhuastedpigeon @thelikesofus @livinginsunnyhell 💕 On your left you will see ridiculous pining idiots sharing a bed and being oblivious 👍 and Eddie being Completely Normal about Buck having Feelings(tm) for someone…

Buck lies down and turns onto his side toward Eddie. “Just in my head.”

Eddie reaches out and runs his fingertips along Buck’s forehead. “You still thinking about the breakup? Because he wasn’t good enough for you. No one is. You deserve someone who gets how special you are. You’re a catch.”

Buck huffs but the hint of a smile touches him. “I wasn’t thinking about that. Haven’t thought about him in a while actually.”

That’s something at least. “Good. He didn’t know how lucky he was.”

Eddie doesn’t know why other than his constant urge to be affectionate especially when someone needs cheering up, but as soon as he thinks about how he should withdraw and stop touching Buck, his hand has other ideas. And he has to dip his fingers into Buck’s curls and rub his head.

They’re so soft and so perfect at this length. They could even be longer and Eddie could bury his hand in more of them. 

The look Buck gives him is too piercing. For a second, it strikes through Eddie like lightning. But it’s gone in the next instant. 

Buck noticeably swallows hard. “I don’t know. Maybe he was unlucky.”

“If you’re going to insult my best friend,” Eddie warns and contemplates making a fist in Buck’s hair for emphasis on the warning. He doesn’t. But he does think about it. 

“No, I didn’t mean like that.” Buck leans into Eddie’s hand and smiles, just a little. “Not, ‘he’s so unlucky being with me’ but like, what if— what if he was right? When he said he knew he wasn’t my last. What if he saw something? Or noticed something?”

Eddie’s thumb wanders and brushes over Buck’s cheekbone, all absentminded instinct. “What kind of something?” 

Buck’s eyes flutter and close for a moment before he takes Eddie’s hand and holds it still against his own chest. “S-so-something like, something I didn’t know. Or didn’t realize. I didn’t know I liked him at first. I had no idea that’s what I was feeling. And— a-and what if that happened again? What if he knew I wanted someone else? Or that I have feelings for someone who isn’t him? And that’s how he knew he wasn’t my last.” 

Someone else? 

There’s someone else? 

Eddie doesn’t know why. But he can’t breathe. Or move. He looks at his own hand, happily, eagerly pressed to Buck’s chest over his heart. “You—” he says but loses the rest of the words. All he can do is echo. “Someone else? There’s someone? A new someone? Another someone?”

Buck shrugs, waves it off, doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. “N-no. No, but. I don’t know. Hypothetically. I guess. What if that were the case? What if that’s what he thought? And that’s why he ended it.”

What if his ex thought Buck wanted someone else and that’s why he got dumped? It’s plausible? The more concerning thing about this however is, “You’re not thinking about calling him again. Are you? You’re not going to try and get back with him? Please tell me that’s not what this is. You’ve been working so hard. We’ve baked so many things.”

Buck turns pink and shakes his head. “No, that’s not— it’s not what I mean. That’s not the point. He’s not the point. I was just wondering, you know? Since he realized I was crushing on him but totally unaware of it. Maybe it happened again. Maybe he knew before I did. What I feel. In theory, I mean. He knew I have feelings for someone else, so he had to break it off. So— s-so? That would make the whole situation unlucky. For him. Or both of us. If we were both having unrequited feelings for different people.”

That’s— sensible? Also so much to think about. How can Eddie think about any of it. How can there be another person already? That’s three in less than a year. Eddie’s had three relationships in his whole life. How does anyone manage feeling like that? Feeling and then not feeling or feeling something else while still stuck in the first feeling or trying so hard to feel something when there were no feelings whatsoever and you were already thinking that feelings were horrible— it’s too much. Way too complicated. “I guess. That would be unlucky.”

“Right? Unlucky.” Buck nods. Somehow with the energy of a nervous, twitchy squirrel. 

“Is there someone else? Another someone?” Eddie asks again. Because he can’t stop thinking he’s also missed something. Or everything. When did Buck meet someone new? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned? Why, again, are they back to crushes and this person I just met five seconds ago really sees me and unrequited— wait. “There is someone. How would you know it’s unrequited unless you have someone specific in mind?”

Buck lets go of Eddie’s hand. In fact, he moves Eddie’s hand back to his side of the bed and then deliberately lets go of it. “I was just wondering. It’s hypothetical. There isn’t anyone. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? We should sleep, yeah? Goodnight, Eds.” He turns away and switches off the lights and stays on his side with his back to Eddie.

Eddie pokes him in the back where he’s sensitive and ticklish. “You’re a fucking terrible liar.”

Buck bats his hand away and yawns. “Aaahhhmmmm not. So sleepy. Not lying. Sleeping.” 

Are they the fourteen year olds now? Eddie tugs the blankets around himself and wriggles on his back to get comfortable. “Whatever. You brought it up.”

[nothnxpls]

Wrote this very quickly; umm I guess trigger warning selfharm, suicide (?)(nobody is really actively killing themself, also first time writing something like this), but I am not really sure, I don't really think this is that grim. But I hope Sombedoy continues this, cause I enjoyed it.

Immediately, I thought of Jason. Imagine this scenario: the Red Hood, Jason, still burning with rage (fairly fresh from death with perhaps a vivisection scar of his own) wanting to set up a standoff between Batman and the Joker.

 Now, picture this: the Fenton family visits Gotham to help Jazz move into college. Maddie and Jack take their equipment around the streets of Gotham, looking for ghosts when their sensors indicate something unusual: civilian Jason.

 They approach Jason, intending to investigate him, believing he might be a very convincing ghost or possibly possessed. At first, Jason is freaked out because this couple appears out of nowhere, pointing their guns and bazookas at him. 

When they fire a shot, Jason experiences an unexpected shift. The pit rage inside him is hostile but somehow afraid of the weapons. But Most importantly, he feels no rage; and all his negative thoughts related to his death vanish, retreating into the abyss. The anger he felt towards the Joker's continued existence, the betrayal of being replaced, the envy he held for the new Robin, and the sense of being forgotten by what he once thought was his family—all of it is gone.

And the sudden departure of Every violent impulse, leaves behind a semblance of peace. Of course, that peace is disrupted when Jack inadvertently says something. However, the damage is done, and Jason feels an unexpected gratitude towards them.

 When Maddie and Jack invite him to their temporary residence, Jason accepts out of curiosity about their weaponry, and theri rather suspicious get up. Very rogue like.

Upon entering their home, he meets Jazz and Danny, and he and Jazz hit off. Jack and Maddie conduct some harmless, mostly non-invasive tests, concluding that while he is no longer possessed, he is still vulnerable to being possessed by a ghost. They give him a Fenton gun for self-defense. Cause that's a normal thing apparently.

Throughout their stay, Jason continues to receive invitations to join them. For Maddie and Jack, it's because they want to keep an eye on the young man and protect him from ghosts. Jazz invites him simply because she likes him. For Danny, there’s a familiar, muted feeling of liminality when he's around Jason.

Although everyone has their agendas for inviting him back, Jason feels included and wanted, which soothes something within him. This warmth translates into him becoming kinder as the Red Hood, initiating more compassionate initiatives to help his territory. While he remains a crime lord, the people begin to warm up to him much faster this time. 

By the time Jack, Maddie, and Danny return to Amity, Jason becomes an honorary member of the Fenton family, which sparks a sense of warmth within him that buzzez like a hive of angry bees. 

Jazz and Jason frequently go out to dinner together and enjoy each other's company. Their relationship could develop into something romantic, or it could remain platonic; either way, I just want them to be close. This friendship inspires Jason to pursue his academic goals. He earns his high school diploma and applies to college.

During the holidays like i dunno Thanksgiving, he and Jazz visit Jack, Maddie, and Danny back in Amity, and they always have a blast together.

 Jason is trying to spend more time with Danny during his visit because Maddie and Jack have expressed their concerns about Danny becoming more secretive and defensive around them. While Danny is behaving fidgety and growing slightly more reclusive, Jason isn't too worried—after all, Danny is just a teenager. It's possible that he is simply going through a typical angsty phase where everything his parents do feels lame.

Jack and Maddie are professional ghost hunters, and Jason understands that Danny’s behavior might reflect typical teenage rebellion. For him, adopting his Red Hood persona is in a nutshell his rebellion against Batman, which is not typical behavior. However, Danny is not a vigilante; he is just a normal, albeit strange, kid. 

Back in Gotham, and back in college, Jason comes across Bruce. And Jason wasn't sure what to feel, but seeing Bruce's disbelief is enlightening. When Bruce tries to reconnect, Jason hesitantly reaches out in return. He has accepted the Fentons, and look at him now—suger fluff and everything nice-he's in a much "better" mental state. It may not be perfect, but he slowly feels like a part of the Wayne family, a part of the Batfam.

:) 

You probably forgot about the Fenton gun from the beginning from all the fluff. But I did not, and certainly Jason didn't either. Because the reprieve from the pit rage did not last. It came back, and it came back strong. The rage felt even more incapacitating and suffocating when you compare it to before. When he mentioned it to Jack and Maddie, their response was to shoot him with the ghost gun, again. Like before he was surprised and very alarmed, but the effect was the same. The pit rage was silenced once more.

And so, every time the pit rage came rearing onto him he would shoot himself with the gun. At first, he was a little worried, cause it was a gun, and It felt completely against any ingrained bat training in him to shoot himself with a gun. But all it seemingly did was silence the rage.

 And that gun became an important and very essential part of his person. He carried it pretty much everywhere and it brought comfort and a feeling of control. Like he is finally in control of his feelings.  And really its just a gun. Nobody in Gotham would bat an eye, if you carried one. And Jazz, Danny, Maddie and Jack pretty much always have one on them too. So really it would be unusually if he didnt have a gun. 

Ignoring the fact that it's a Fenton GHOST gun, and the gun was made to hurt the non-living. But Jason isn't dead. He died yes, but he was revived. And the Gun was not hurting him just the pit rage. Not him. Anyways that gun was the only thing keeping his fucking sanity. It was like a drug, taking away his pain. 

Jazz didn't know, but if she did, she would be very much against it. As a psychology student in training, she is pretty good at reading people, but Jason is exceptional at keeping secrets. He knows how to uncover them, burry them, learning from his Robin days , during his time in the League, and now as Red Hood.

But there are others who are also good at keeping secrets and are very nosy; they would also definitely not approve of the gun—that's right, the Batfamily. 

When Bruce and the others learned about the Fentons and their unusual occupation, they became highly alert, especially since Jason was convinced they were genuine. However, Bruce and the others never trully voiced their suspicions to Jason, nor did they mention the unethical research paper or the anti-ecto acts supported by Jack and Maddie. Although Bruce disapproved of the Fentons, he was hesitant to express his feelings to Jason, fearing that Jason might choose the Fentons over him. 

On what seemed like a normal day for them, Bruce saw his baby boy, Jason, overwhelmed with pit rage. When he prepared to restrain Jason to protect himself and others, he saw Jason point a gun at his temple. All blood fled his face and a pit formed in his stomach when he heard the gun activate. But unlike the shooting of his parents, no thud came, for his son still stood in place. Bruce ran to Jason and snatched the gun from him.

Bruce was like WTF and his impression of the Fentons worsened when he saw the familiar gun design. 

Bla bla bla Insert heartfelt moments between Jason and Bruce.

And Bruce contacts a magic person, maybe Constantine or maybe Deadman or maybe both. And they both act appalled when they see Jason. Constantine is appalled because Jason smells of death and Deadman because he sees that Jason's core is damaged to the max. (Let us point back to Danny's reason for inviting Jason). No surprise, the gun was hurting him. Stopping him from "healthy" confronting the pit rage. ect blabla bla. Stunting his growth. 

Jason comes to better terms with his death. Accepting and actual self-healing montage. More room for reconciliation and happy family batfam vibes. Insert more Jazz and Jason moments.

Jason and Jazz visit the Fenton household again during your selected holiday. They are greeted in a similar manner as before, but they quickly notice that Jack and Maddie seem busier than usual, and Danny is nowhere to be found. According to Sam and Tucker, Danny has been missing since last Friday( what date it is now is up to u). So, Jazz and Jason prowl the streets of Amity Park, looking for Danny, unaware of his true location being close to home. 

When Jason and Jazz return to the house, they bring dinner with them, aware that Jack and Maddie often forget to eat when they get hyper-focused.

However, Jason is quite upset with them. Danny is missing, and Jack and Maddie's dismissive and belligerent attitude toward the situation raises several red flags. Especially their unwillingness to join their search for Danny. Like what was so important that they could not spare time to search for their son. 

They called for them to eat dinner but received no answer. This was expected, but they could hear strange muffled noises coming from the lab door. Opening the door, reveals Jack and Maddie covered in blood and ectoplasm, arms deep in the open chest cavity of Danny, strapped on a medical table; gagged, bloody, pale and unconscious. 

"Jazz, Jason, you'r back. Quick come look at this spook!"

-----

if you felt that the gun came from nowhere, me too. but it felt fitting that they gave him a weapon with the intetion to protect himself. but also straight up telling himself to shot himself with it. like blatant forshadowing of their terrible choices

----

Alternative ending.

When they opened the lab door it was only Jack arms deep in Danny's chest. Maddie nowhere in their sight. Then they hear the whirr of the gun. Turning back, it was Maddie pointing a gun once more at Jason. Except this time, she looked very sinister.

"Can't trick us spook. The sensors don't lie!"

…you know what could be a really horrible twist for a fic to pull?

It starts with the “kind Fenton parents pull some other people into their family in a chaotic but loving way” dynamic I’ve seen in some DPxDC fics/prompts (e.g. Family Bonding and Other Perilous Pursuits)

but then it’s also a bad parents vivisection fic.

Like, it’s presented from the perspective of those outsiders. And to them, the Fentons wholeheartedly presented as incredibly kind, loving people (after all, they’re not ghosts). Thus, at first, the story feels like the typical family fluff/comedy affair.

And then the readers get a scene showing the vivisection part.

All the fluff is ruined, almost painful to read knowing truth. But the characters still don’t know yet.

Sure, they’ll presumably find out eventually, but in the meantime the reader is left waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dramatic irony and all that.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (8) - City Lights

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word Count: 8.1k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

You managed to dry your hair a lot easier and quicker than you thought you would, but you still remained in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves down. This was it. You were at Jenna's house, you've sort of met her family, or at least a part of it, and you made things a bit awkward. Which was not what you wanted to do, and the last thing you wished for right now was to make things even more awkward. Your wishes meant nothing, however, because the way you would be meeting them now would be doing exactly that. It would be bizarre, absolutely ridiculous, because you wouldn't be coming in from the outside, you would be coming from upstairs, where just to make it even more awkward, their bedrooms were, down to the living room.

If you weren't so nervous it probably would have crossed your mind that it looked like Jenna had brought her lover over to her home in the middle of the night. And now that lover was coming down to meet her family after a long night together.

Damn rain.

Embarrassment and awkward meetings aside, the pain was also getting a bit uncomfortable, so you reached into your bag and downed two pills to help you with the pain. “OK, I can do this,” you whispered, and took several deep breaths, just to buy yourself a bit more time. Finally, you plucked up the courage and went back to Jenna's room to see her hastily folding her shirts. She was chewing on her lower lip, and you figured she was even more embarrassed than you. You weren't lying to her, you really did find this endearing and it really wasn't as messy as she thought it was.

Jenna looked up when she heard the doors closing, you probably should have knocked, but in your defense she left the doors opened. She looked you over, pretty much checking you out as you wore the light gray shirt that belonged to her father. It was a bit big for you, since as strong as you were you had more of a lean build than a bulky one, but it would do.

“You look nervous,” she pointed out and walked up to you, but there was no denying that both of you were feeling like that.

You just shrugged, hoping to play it cool, more for your own sake than any other reason. “I'm not really used to meeting the family,” you admitted, having no troubles in expressing how you felt about this. You wanted to meet them, you were eager to do so, but there definitely was some sort of nervousness about the entire ordeal. After all, you did have feelings for Jenna.

Jenna smiled and slowly, rather gently, caressed your cheek. “They’ll love you, just like-“ and she paused, catching herself before she could finish that sentence but you could see it in the startled expression on her face and the way her hand froze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened, but you were overcome with feelings and in that moment you just pulled her in holding her tightly and actually lifting her up. Jenna, though for a moment startled by the display affection, quickly hugged you back, squeezing you tightly around your shoulders and neck. She took a deep breath as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “-like I do,” she finished that sentence and kissed your cheek. “And I really, really do love you a lot,” she whispered her voice shaky, the tone of it trembling and betraying the slight insecurity she felt.

“I love you too. Jenna, you mean so much to me,” you couldn't even begin to describe everything she meant to you. Even if you found the words that could describe your feelings, you couldn't tell her without telling her about the fights. And at that moment, as you felt both the warmth of her presence, and the pain from the bruises, you came to a startling realization. You trembled for a moment, almost overcome by the sense of clarity that you suddenly got. You were almost ready to just give it all up, to push through and quit fighting, to end the cycle and find a way, any way you could, to actually feel worthy of loving her.

“Y/N,” your name fell from her lips, and you were fairly certain no one had ever nor will anyone ever speak your name as sweetly as she did.

“Jenna what's taking so long? Oh shit, sorry,” the two of you were suddenly interrupted by Jenna’s younger sister, Aliyah, coming in and you quickly separated.

Jenna cleared her throat as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart down and gestured toward Aliyah. “This is my younger sister, Aliyah,” she then gestured at you while slightly glaring at her sister. “Aliyah, this is Y/N,” she introduced the two of you each other since you were already in the same room. Might as well get one introduction out of the way.

You quickly offered Aliyah your hands and she shook. “It's nice to meet you,” you said and she nodded, an amused smile spreading on her face as she looked from you to Jenna.

“Guess I don't get a hug, do I?” she teased, and with the way Jenna looked down and slapped her forehead you just knew this wasn’t going to be the only teasing you and Jenna were going to get. “Reeree, I told you to warn me if you needed a room to yourself,” oh, this was the absolute disaster, she was even more direct about it than Enrique. She might even be able to give Barbara a run for her money, and she was what? Sixteen? You shivered at the thought of all the teasing you and Jenna might have to endure when she gets older, or in the even worst case scenario, she ends up teaming up with Barbara.

“That’s not what was going on!” Jenna cried out and just as Aliyah was about to open her mouth again Jenna grabbed your hand and pulled you out. “Not a single word, we are going down so Y/N can meet everyone else!” Jenna put a stop to whatever Aliyah was going to say and you let Jenna pull you along as Aliyah laughed behind the two of you.

Yeah, this was happening, you were about to meet the family.

~X~

Fire. That's exactly how Jenna would describe what was going on between the two of you. Even now, though she could no longer feel your hands around her, she still felt like her skin was burning, yearning for the same sensation she got when you held her. The same sensation she was trying to invoke by holding your hand right now, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted that warmth to be surrounding her again, to feel it consuming her from the inside. It was both a physical and an emotional need, and they were both fulfilled at the same time when she felt your touch. And it felt so damn good, so addictive.

She glanced back at you, noticing the way your eyes were focusing on your hands, locked together as you walked just a bit behind her, and she wondered what you were thinking. You felt this too, didn’t you? Jenna found herself wondered if the two of you would have kissed if only you were given a few extra minutes, because she certainly felt like she was ready for that step.

You lifted her up so easily. And the way you held her, she couldn't even describe it properly. The closest description she could come up with was that you held her like you had nothing more precious in your life than her. And it almost frightened her with how intense and raw it was, how genuine and vulnerable you could be. Not to mention how you responded to her own vulnerability not by making her feel ashamed for acting like that but by supporting her through it and letting her see that you were perfectly fine with her being vulnerable.

And she wanted it almost desperately. She wanted to feel all of that with you, to feel all of those emotions, only unrestrained by this friendship, because as raw and intense as it was there was this restraint put on it all by the label you both put on your relationship. And she could no longer avoid accepting that she wanted that restraint gone.

Jenna knew, she one hundred percent knew, that if circumstances were any different, if you were alone, at her place in LA or at your place, and if that happened there that she wouldn’t just kiss you. No, she would have done so much more, letting you do whatever you wanted to do to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her mind out of the gutter.

And to try and keep those thoughts at bay, because she wouldn’t be a hormonal teenager right now, she went and looked back at you. Because of course that would help push those thoughts away.

As she led you down the stairs, she caught you taking her childhood home in, looking at the photos her parents hung on the walls. There were many of them, after all they were a big family, and the photos showed that. There were photos of her, her siblings and her parents, as well as her nephews and even some of her extended family. Her mom loved keeping the memories through the photos and Jenna wished she could get into that habit as well. Every special occasion was accompanied with the photo, and she wondered how your own parents house was. Were there photos of you while you were filming Logan or maybe when you finished high school or maybe other things like that? Or maybe your parents were more of a ‘keeping things in memory’ kind of couple, instead of hanging everything on the walls and keeping the physical reminders of those times.

Jenna wanted to meet them. To see for herself the kind of people that raised you and made you the way you were right now. With how loving you were they must have done something right. In a way, and perhaps she just noticed it today, you treated every moment with people you loved like it could be the last one. And not in the negative way. It was just that when you cared for someone and could also relax all of your attention was on that someone.

And that realization brought those desires right back to the front of her mind. How deeply and passionately would you love someone if you treated friends like that? Jenna wondered what you were thinking right now, she wondered if you wanted her as much as she wanted you. Somehow a thought crossed your mind that you wanted her even more. And it made that warmth from the spreading through her like a flame that would never extinguished.

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back into the living room, she saw the table was set, with her dad already sitting there at the head of the table, while her mom and Markus were watching a football game. It was like her family was creating a sort of a bubble around them, hoping to have a moment of normalcy before your presence sort of shattered it into pieces. After all, they all probably saw right through her and by now knew this wasn't just her inviting friends over.

Jenna cleared her throat and the bubble the family was happily in burst as they all turned to look at you and Jenna.

“Uh, hello, again” you said and raised your hand to wave slightly. That nervous grin on your face was honestly more than a little endearing to Jenna. She found this a bit more shy and reserved side of you to be a surprise, if she was honest. You've always had this air of confidence and ‘I can do anything’ kind of attitude, but here you were, meeting her family and acting a bit like a dork, which was something she could definitely enjoy seeing more often.

Jenna’s mom was the first to get up, seeing as she met you briefly. It was clear all of you were trying to ignore that you came back from upstairs and how it looked. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she came up to you and surprisingly pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, but Jenna could see you were genuinely surprised by this greeting.

“Jenna can’t shut up about you,” Jenna’s sister, Aliyah, chimed in behind you. Oh, right, she came downstairs with the two of you, and now she was going to turn Jenna's day from very, very pleasurable to potentially ‘The Teasing from Hell - Part 2: The Return of Enrique’s Disciple’.

It was one hell of a miracle that he wasn’t here as well, since he promised he’d be here to watch the show and tease her. Not that it mattered. Aliyah was here to fill in for him. Why couldn’t Aliyah be her natural shy self instead of relishing in the opportunity to tease her?

“I can!” Jenna quickly retorted and turned away from you. She did not deny that she was talking about you though, she just couldn’t deny it, or, honestly, shut up about you. She's been talking about you meeting her family ever since she plucked up the courage to tell then you were coming, and she would be the first to admit it was a bit annoying.

“Sure you can, Jenna,” Markus teased her and just like that her younger brother came up to you and greeted you, and all that was left was her dad.

The man came out of the dining room and looked you over, studying you, And Jenna herself got nervous imagining how you must have felt under his gaze. He was a cop, after all, and worst of all Jenna wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. She just noticed he focused on your hand, and not the left hand she was holding, but rather on your right hand, and your knuckles in particular. Jenna couldn't quite figure it out, but he frowned for a moment. “You do lots of martial arts, don't you?” he asked, and Jenna couldn’t figure out how looking at your fist told him that, and sure, he heard about it from Jenna, but it looked like he would have figured it out from looking at your fist.

“Yes, I've been practicing different martial arts for several years now. Since I was roughly thirteen,” you replied casually, and her dad nodded. Frankly, she wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

“Welcome, Y/N, nice to meet you,” after what felt like eternity he went and offered his hand to you, and you accepted it.

“It’s nice meeting you all,” you said, now sounding a lot more confident than before and she breathed out a small sigh of relief because this was more along the lines of what she expected from you.

“Come on you two, let’s eat,” her mom told the two of you, and while still holding hands Jenna and you followed the rest of her family to the table. Just like before you went and pulled the chair out for her, now feeling a lot more in your element, as you pretty much, and very likely now that she thought about it, ignored the stares of her family and just focused on doing what you did the best. Making Jenna feel seen, cared for, and accepted.

“Thanks,” this time she had to hold from tugging you down so you could hug her again and instead just patted you on the back of your hand as you pushed her chair in.

“Anytime,” you said and sat down on the chair to her left.

~X~

The lunch was, in one word, amazing. Natalie was an incredible cook, both when it came to variety and the taste, making a wide array of Mexican food as well as several other dishes. You honestly weren’t even sure where to start as Jenna put the food on your plate. Natalie and Aliyah were sitting on the other side of the table, while Markus sat to your left and Edward sat at the head of the table, on Jenna’s right side.

“Thanks, Jen,” you thanked her before you all started eating, you missed the smile on Natalie’s face at the nickname you kept using.

“Could you pass me the hot sauce?” she asked pointing at the sauce close to you. By the looks of it, you both slipped right back into the old habits from the set of Scream.

“Sure,” you handed it to her, and then put it back where it was when she poured it over her tacos. She definitely loved spicy food, and you were still amazed with how well she could handle hot food.

“The food is amazing, Natalie,” you complimented as you swallowed the first bite of your own taco. It was good that Jenna told you in advance her mom was the one who prepared the food.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Natalie nodded and smiled at the compliment.

“Told you, you have competition,” Jenna pointed out. “Too bad I couldn’t save a single piece of that cake for you.”

“I don’t know, this is a tough act to follow,” and you were being honest, you could cook, but this was truly something. “But, challenge accepted, I need to have all of you over for a dinner sooner or later,” and you would actually put extra effort into that dinner. Cooking wouldn’t be an issue, the main trouble would be how you could handle finding enough space for all of them, because your apartment definitely wasn't fit for a huge family. Well, you would figure something out when the time comes.

“Count me in, I need to see if Jenna was exaggerating,” Aliyah promised you and you grinned a bit when Jenna groaned and lowered her head. “I'm telling you, she just keeps yapping on and on about you! I wasn't kidding when I said I told her to tell me if she needed the room to herself,” you shrunk a bit in your seat because of Aliyah’s words. Both the fact that Jenna talked about you so much and the implications of the second part making you feel more than a bit embarrassed.

“I don't need the room to myself!” Jenna exclaimed, blushing like crazy when she said that, and you closed your eyes. Yet, even with your eyes closed you could see it coming from a mile away, that was just the interlude into the real tease.

“Considering what I caught the two of you doing, I'm not so sure,” there. There it was. And the silence that followed those words was deafening, and you could feel Jenna's parents looking right at you.

“You should probably run,” Jenna’s brother, Markus told you and your eyes widened as you looked at him and he just nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he wasn’t even joking! Jenna had dry humor, but this guy was just being serious!

“We were just hugging!” Jenna cried out, hoping to prevent the potential harm that could fall upon you and you nodded as quickly as you could. Now that you were thinking about it, well that wasn't really going in your favor either, because you spent hours with Jenna alone and somehow you were still hugging. Could it have been nothing? Absolutely! It could have been just a friendly display of affection between friends. Yet the circumstances weren't in your favor, and you found yourself staring blankly at Aliyah.

“What have I ever done to you?” you mouthed and she just shrugged. You were met with us sorry not sorry look in her eyes.

“Right, that happened,” Natalie turned back to her plate hoping to lower the tensions and the blood pressure of her husband, and then she looked at you again. “So, Y/N, can you tell us a bit about your family?”

Someone please bring the teasing back.

You froze for a moment, nearly dropping the fork in your hand. “Sure, sure,” your voice cracked as you were suddenly put on a spot. “Yeah, of course. I am an only child,” you could feel Jenna’s eyes on you, you could feel everyone’s attention on you, even more so with that initial reaction, and you looked at Jenna, partly to calm down and in the process catching the genuinely surprised look in her eyes. She clearly didn't expect you to freeze like that, and you definitely didn't blame her. You didn't think she could even begin to imagine that your parents were no longer alive.

“And your parents? What do they do?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow but brushing the reaction off as just you being surprised.

“Mom was a pilot and dad worked in cybersecurity,” you replied, voice hoarse as you answered. Back when you were growing up both those jobs, and your parents as well, looked like heroes in your eyes. You looked up to them, always wanting to make them proud, they looked like they were flawless when you were a child. And they made sure you never noticed or suffered because of tension and problems in their marriage, they kept you as protected from those issues as they possibly could. Maybe that was part of the reason why you felt so inadequate and useless when they were gone and you couldn’t do anything, because they created this image of always having answers and solutions, and when it was your turn to do the same you failed.

The bite Jenna took of her salad went and got stuck in her throat and you quickly patted her on the back, which luckily helped. “Sorry. I should have… Fuck, I feel horrible now,” she lowered her head, ashamed and all you felt now was guilt over making her feel like this. She caught it, they all caught it, the fact that you spoke in past tense, combined with the fact that you never mentioned them to Jenna, and how you reacted to the question. There was no doubt about it in anyone’s mind.

“I'm sorry, let's not make this awkward. It was,” you paused, putting your emotions back under control, not letting a single hint of weakness slip through the cracks. “There was an accident and they,” you looked down, forcing those feelings further down, forcing the normality without this conversation back upon you all. “Yeah, it's been a while, I’m fine now,” you tried brushing it off, and fixing the situation. “Jenna told me you've been incredibly supportive of her ever since she was starting out and now of course. I've actually been really curious to know about it,” you tried to get her family to talk about something else and luckily given the nature of the topic that was just breached it looked like everyone was really eager to make things less awkward.

Jenna actually took your hand and squeezed it and she leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch and it was like the weight fell from your shoulders and you could once again breathe. No one said a single word about it, not the single teasing remark even though it was in plain sight and you appreciated it, smiling gently at her to show it to her.

~X~

The guilt was absolutely wrecking her from the inside, and she thought back to all of those times she wished she could meet your parents. And sure, you never told her your parents were dead, and there was no way she could have known but at the same time she also felt that she really should have figured out something wasn't completely right. And she noticed it, but she kept trying to come up with different explanation. You came back and only Barbara was in your apartment? You didn’t live with your parents. You forgot about Thanksgiving? Maybe you had a bad relationship with your parents, or they simply didn’t celebrate it. Yet it never crossed her mind that they were taken away from you in what you described as an accident.

How old were you? You said it’s been a while. Were you as old as she was now? Younger? She glanced at Aliyah and Markus, wondering how they would take losing their parents right now? Jenna herself knew she would fall apart if she suddenly lost them, and she probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces any time soon. And she’d still have her siblings left! You were an only child, suddenly left without parents!

You were completely honest when you said you didn't want to make things awkward and you did everything humanly possible to get the mood up again and make her family feel no guilt over bringing your parents up. And she barely held back her tears at that. As she realized that whether consciously or unconsciously you felt like there was something wrong with sharing this and still feeling hurt over it, and that you needed to fix it.

And in that single moment of realization Jenna understood she was helpless. For so many reasons, and she couldn’t even turn to her parents for help. After all, her family wasn't exactly the best with handling emotions, especially since you were basically a stranger they only heard about from her. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t help you either. She watched you falling apart on the inside, cracking and trying to pull all the pieces back together like someone just shattered you. All the while she couldn’t do anything and was only reminded of the time she had her panic attack.

You came in and helped her, calmed her down, saved her from those feelings and understood exactly what she needed. Now here she was, seeing you were in pain and completely unable to figure out a way to help you, to make you hurt less. And that feeling only got worse by the realization that you were putting the feelings of her and her family over your own, trying to reset things for their sake. Touching you like this wasn’t enough, this minimal contact did nothing but reveal to her how you were trembling, the slight tremors of your body barely noticeable to those watching you, but she felt it against her.

She had to do something. “Excuse us for a moment,” she quickly got up and you looked at her, startled, as she pulled you to the hall, figuring out it would give you more privacy than the living room that wasn’t even entirely separated from the dining room and the kitchen.

“Jenna,” you began, and she didn’t even need to hear you out, she knew you’d tell her you were fine, so, instead of letting you utter that lie she just pulled you down until your face was buried in her neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, only knowing that losing her loved ones was her greatest fear, but not having any idea how to take it that next step further and relate to such a heavy loss. “Don’t hide it from me, please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into your hair, her lips right next to your ear. “Please, Y/N,” she whispered, no longer even trying to hold her tears back.

And instead of opening up, instead of letting her help you, you brushed her tears away and hugged her. “I’m fine,” you told her, you lied, you weren’t ready to say it, but she could feel the tension in your body lessening just a bit. “I’m fine,” who exactly were you trying to convince? “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you were so close to telling her something, she could tell, but at the same time deep down she knew this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Yet you still fell to your knees, and Jenna followed you down, trying her best to hold you up, to keep you from crumbling. “I couldn’t. I had no other choice, I was desperate,” you gasped for air, and she found herself rubbing soft circles in your back, trying to mimic what you did to calm her down.

“I’m with you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb along your cheek, thinking she’d brush a tear off, yet there were no tears. “You have me,” and perhaps that lack of tears, the grief cocooned in some impenetrable armor, broke and hurt her the most. You wanted to fall apart in her arms, to let it all out, and you just didn’t know how. “Y/N,” she cried your name out and your breath hitched as you desperately held onto her.

“I can’t stop. Don’t deserve to stop,” you weren’t making sense, and she felt fear creeping into her heart. What couldn’t you stop? Why did she feel like she was losing you to whatever it was, to whatever you thought you didn’t deserve to stop? “Need it. I failed. Couldn’t continue, couldn’t- I- It’s not- I should have,” it wasn’t making sense.

“Please don’t, please just stop,” she pleaded, blurting those words out without realizing what they would mean to you, breaking with every word you spoke. Feeling a pain so visceral it was pushing her to her limits and it almost felt like she was physically hurting. She wanted you to stop, to take a breath and tell her everything properly, to open up and not just crack in random places. And you just shut your mouth. “Hey, hey wait, not like that,” she cried for you, only now realizing you thought she asked you to stop talking entirely. “Y/N, no, don’t. Talk to me,” it was too late, she lost the chance. The cracks sealed up and you just pushed it all down.

She felt you pulling away from her, and she pulled you back in, holding you there with all of her strength, almost clinging to you and keeping you in place with her entire weight. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean that,” but your breathing was once again steady and calm.

“Let’s just go back, your family is waiting,” you whispered, pulling her up to her feet and despite her efforts pulling away and smiling at her. “Thanks for trying,” you said and leaned back against the wall, and she shook her head, hugging you and burying her face in your chest, barely caring that her tears would be visible on the light gray shirt.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” she wanted to help you, yet she failed. She didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to reach you.

“I know,” you rubbed her back, calming her down when it was supposed to be the other way around. You were forcing yourself to be strong for her. Letting her cry her heart out for you.

“Please, I can’t lose you. Couldn’t take it and it felt like I was losing you,” she missed the way your eyes widened at those words. “Don’t want this with anyone else but you,” she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, she just felt it so deep inside her heart. “I want all of you, Y/N,” and she wanted to give you all of her.

“I’ll fix it,” she nearly missed the words you whispered, almost too quietly, despite how close Jenna was to you. She certainly missed the look of absolute resolve in your eyes. Either way, for one hopeful moment she thought you had started talking again, but you didn’t say a single word after that. No. You just let her silently cry until her tears ran out, until your touch filled her with warmth once more, and only then you separated, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” this time you were the one guiding her back to her family, putting on the mask of confidence and acting like what you went through didn’t come out.

So, Jenna would act like it as well, pretending in front of her family that pulling you away from them had a purpose, that it did something good for you, instead of just making you feel like you had to suppress your feelings around her. She would do it, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was to help her family and prevent them from feeling guilty, maybe there was some other reason, at this point it hardly mattered.

You all seemed to just pretend that single minute at the table never happened.

And Jenna wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or even more worried for you.

For now she could do nothing but look at you, observe you as you began talking to her family as if nothing happened, and bit by bit she began believing the illusion as well.

As the lunch ended Jenna watched you, almost mesmerized as you talked to her mom about the different foods and recipes. Her heart beat faster as she noticed how you focused on learning which food Jenna loved the most, picking up even more secrets and information that you didn't get to learn while you were on set together. This, you with her family, was something she could easily get used to. There was a slightly selfish part of her that hoped that's maybe one day would consider her family your own family and that it would at least slightly fill the void of loss you’ve been feeling for so long. Maybe that would be the thing to help you through the grief. Maybe she just wasn’t enough on her own.

"Are you kidding me?" your eyes widened, and you turned to Jenna. It was like the cracks never showed up, and you were perfectly fine. "You got apples three times?" you asked incredulously after her mom told you about the misfortune she had when she was doing ads. It wasn’t just your effort to cover up the cracks. It was her family as well, consciously making an effort not to help you with what you were feeling, but to cover it up, unsure what to do if it came up again.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, tears once again threatening to fall as this realization hit her as well. Her family couldn’t fill that void, not without a huge effort on both sides, and while she knew her family loved her and that they would love you, she knew they wouldn’t have the time to put that kind of effort in. And while you were doing your absolute best to reset things back to how they were before they all found out your parents were dead Jenna was once more struggling to do her part.

She was an actress, and right now she needed to play a role with you, to fake it until it turned to reality. So, so half blacked-out, pretending she was just acting. She frowned at the memory. She despised apples now. "Yeah, I think I'd rather starve than eat them ever again. I can't even look at them without feeling angry," she finished with a laugh, a bit forced but it worked, it did the job.

You joined her and leaned back a bit, your smile looking a lot lighter and easier than her own. "Good thing I never got the urge to make an apple pie," you may have said that, but Jenna could see you cataloguing her hatred toward apples for later. Somehow she also believed that you would make even an apple pie taste good.

"As long as you make it just make it spicy and vegetarian and Jenna will love it," Aliyah seemed to be dead set on embarrassing her. She even patted you on the back a few times as she went to put away her plate. This time Jenna let it slide because it genuinely made you smile, and that was all she cared about right now, that you were actually fine and not just forcing yourself to be happy.

"And you have to learn how to make guac," Markus just added fuel to the fire. And you just added another information to wherever you were filing the information you were getting. Even if she would much rather make guac for you herself. More than a few times, and preferably often, many, many times, just for the two of you.

"I need to make urnebes salad for you," you said directly to her. "Red bell peppers, chili peppers, cheese, it's a nice, spicy salad," that definitely sounded like something she would like, and she absolutely wanted you to make things for her. Wanted to experience so much with you, try new foods, try new things in general with you, and having you in her life as much as possible.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jenna told you and you just grinned.

“Okay, how about we all go outside and take a group selfie?” her mom suggested taking Jenna by surprise. You did what you intended, you got everything back on track, even when you were the one that the most affected by all of this. That should have made her relax but it just made her heart clench painfully at that thought.

So, she focused on what was going on instead of on what she was feeling. Her mom definitely loved taking photos, keeping the memories of good times lasting longer and documenting anything she deemed important or worthy of a photo. So, maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised, but it still felt a bit unexpected, and she hoped you didn’t mind. Looking at your face she didn’t notice any changes, or discomfort.

Granted, you just showed her you absolutely could mask any pain you felt in pretty much an instant. This seemed genuine though, this really seemed like you didn’t mind taking a photo with her family.

So, you followed after her into the backyard where the two of you and her family got ready for her mom to take the photo. What she didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mess up her hair just as her mom took the selfie.

Apparently, you were actually back to normal, and the grin on your face proved it to her.

“Oh my,” her mom chuckled, and Jenna saw her hair was covering most of her face on the photo.

“Y/N,” she spoke calmly, but you already began running, and fine, if that was how you were going to act, then she could play that game too. “It’s fine, I promise!” she exclaimed as she began chasing you, you were laughing and it truly was fine but as long as you were laughing then she was going to keep chasing after you. Just to listen to your laughter for a bit more, because after what happened in the hall, she needed this. She needed you to laugh with her, to tease her, to make her flustered and blush, and make her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

“Then why are you chasing me?” you laughed and Jenna found herself grinning as well, especially when she heard her family holding back their own laughs. This was what she wanted, seeing you like this, free from that tension from before.

She didn’t see this side of you on the set, the childish, silly side that somehow ended up relaxing her even more. “Because you’re running!” it made no sense, but she truly didn’t care. For some reason you got tired a bit quicker than she expected you would, and she smirked speeding up and catching you from behind, hugging you tightly. “Got you,” she laughed and leaned her forehead against your back as she caught her breath.

“Yeah, you got me,” you sounded so genuine, and she could have sworn there was a double meaning to those words. She just didn’t understand it yet.

She wanted to tell you more, but the words got stuck in her throat and despite spending over half an hour thinking about it she suddenly wasn't sure she even had the right words to say to you. “You have me,” she spoke, hoping against hope that those three worlds would convey everything she felt. That they would be enough for you to know that she was with you completely, no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. She needed you to know that you had her on your side and that you could turn to her at any moment for anything.

“You have me too,” you replied and relief flooded her heart. You understood and then you turned around and she was sure you would hug her back. Jenna looked you in the eyes, expecting a hug, only to be met by a mischievous look on your face as you went and booped her on the nose. “Let’s go back before your parents kill me,” you joked and she rolled her eyes, letting you go and walking slightly ahead of you.

“They wouldn’t,” she denied it as the two of you began heading back toward the house. Her family was already back inside, clearly giving the two of you a moment.

“You think? Your dad is a cop and in his eyes, I’m trying to seduce his baby girl,” you whisper shouted just loud enough for her to hear and she burst out laughing.

“Guess you'll have to set your sight on another girl then, won't you,” even as she joked back she had to admit there was a hint of jealousy in her voice at the mere thought of you with another girl.

Then, as if you sensed just how much power your touch had over her, you pulled her back and into your arms. And Jenna gasped as she felt your left hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed right against yours. And the look in your eyes? Jenna found herself melting at the intensity and raw emotion in your gaze. “I can’t,” you didn’t need to say another word. You made your message very, very clear.

“Good to know,” her voice cracked several times in those three words and she forced herself to just very slowly step away from you because her legs weren't exactly steady right now. It wasn’t a day of ups and downs with you today, it was a rollercoaster, and it was clear both of you were trying to bring things back to how they usually were by taking things up to eleven.

~X~

Two hours later you've gotten quite comfortable around Jenna's family, even though you could still see the somewhat scary that look Edward was giving you every time you and Jenna got particularly close to one another. Just another proof that the incident from lunch was mostly forgotten, and the way Jenna reacted to your admission that you couldn’t find another girl told you things between the two of you would be fine as well.

There seemed to be a silent conversation between Jenna and her mother until Jenna finally groaned and got up, leaving you on your own with her family from the looks of it.

“Can’t escape the dishes not even in a situation like this,” she half-jokingly complained to you and you automatically jumped to your feet. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as she pushed you slightly, though quite frankly you were barely feeling her efforts to get you back to sit down.

“Going to help you, of course,” you could see she was about to argue against it, and you quickly argued in favor of your plan before she do so. “I have a plane to catch very soon, let's do this one last thing together and then I can be on my way?” you tried to talk her into it and from the looks of it, it was working. Much like you, Jenna wanted to spend more time with you.

“Fine, but you only get to dry the dishes,” Jenna smiled softly as you pumped your fist in celebration. Granted, the reaction, while genuine, was a bit exaggerated, but you wanted to see her smiling, she didn’t smile that often since lunch. And you didn’t want to leave her like this, you wanted her happy, thinking back to this day fondly. You went into the kitchen where there were plenty of dishes from today's lunch. “Are you sure I can’t help you with more than just drying?” you asked and leaned on the counter next to her as she pulled out some cloth for you to dry the dishes with.

“Absolutely,” she began wiping any of the leftovers off the dishes and putting them back into the sink and you caught yourself just watching her. She was focused on the task and was actually even humming a bit. You didn't quite recognize the song but just listening to Jenna like this was more than enough for you. There was a very comfortable silence in the room, filled with occasional glances and chuckles, as if you were in on an inside joke that no one else knew about and you couldn’t even begin to describe how relieved you were because of that.

“You're staring,” she giggled and returned the favor as she booped your nose with a soap covered finger.

And you suddenly sneezed, barely getting enough time to cover your mouth. The soap kind of made you sneeze. “I was about to say you're beautiful, but I guess it won't work after this,” you rolled your eyes, silently cursing the timing of your sneeze.

“Goof,” Jenna rolled her eyes and you just chuckled at that, happy that everything was once more completely comfortable between you.

She finally handed you a plate to dry and 10 minutes later the two of you had finished washing the dishes and you were about to go and grab your bag. As much as you enjoyed this, you would have to leave in the next 10 to 15 minutes.

“So, this is it?” she said and you could see a question on the tip of her tongue.

“It was a good day,” you didn't even leave yet and you already felt this sense of longing for her. You couldn't tell when would be the next time you would see her, and right then and there, in what was possibly the worst moment, right in her parents’ kitchen, you nearly said it. You nearly told her what you were doing, because she deserved to know. You were both heading toward the point of no painless return. If this kept going even for a bit longer you would just end up hurting Jenna by keeping her in the dark. And you couldn’t have that. “I-“

But before you could say anything Natalie came up to the two of you. “Y/N,” she called out your name.

“Yes?” you weren't sure if you were relieved or not that you were interrupted like this.

“We've been thinking and it would really be a shame for you to go back to Denver today. You've been here for not even half a day and we have a free room,” she began and your eyes widened as you realized where this was going. “Aliyah can go and sleep in Mia's room, and Jenna can take Aliyah's bed so you can sleep in Jenna’s,” you glanced at Jenna and saw the look of pure happiness spreading on her face and that just took away all of your capability to argue against Natalie’s idea.

“I,” you still turned to Jenna with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want this?” you asked her. “It’s OK if you don't want it,” you assured Jenna, but her mom just chuckled, realizing much better than you just how ridiculous that idea was.

“And if I want you to stay?” Jenna asked a bit cheekily.

The answer was simple. “Then I'll stay,” and so the decision was made. You would be staying the night.

“I am betting my bed will remain empty tonight!” Aliyah yelled from the living room, embarrassing both you and Jenna.

Aliyah was absolutely wrong.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

[lvnleah]

mascot cuteness.

find the series masterlist here!

September 2030 | 6 & 2 years old. 

It was the first game of the season and Finley was already bouncing with excitement, standing in his mini Arsenal kit. Ellie bounced with energy too, her tiny kit slightly oversized but adorable nonetheless. Today was special—it was the first game of the season, and they both had insisted on being Leah’s mascots.

“All right, you two. Are you ready to go meet Mumma?” you asked, smoothing down Finley’s shirt while Ellie played with the hem of hers in the car park. 

“Yeah!” Finley exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. His excitement was contagious.

Ellie clapped her hands together, looking up at you with a beaming smile. “Mumma! Go see Mumma?” she said, her little voice full of glee.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing your phone and checking the time. “Yeah, it’s time to go see Mumma. You ready to be Mama’s mascot?” you asked her, brushing a strand of her blonde hair out of her face.

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement. “Beffy!” she suddenly blurted out, referring to Beth, who you were convinced she loved more sometimes. “Beffy? Me walk with Beffy?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, baby, you're walking with Mama today.”

Ellie, however, wasn’t convinced. “Beffy!” she repeated, more insistently this time.

You sighed but smiled, knowing how much she adored Beth. “We’ll see, Ellie. Let’s go meet Mama first.”

You led Finley and Ellie through the bustling halls of the Emirates, eventually arriving at the tunnel. Leah was already there, alongside her teammates. When she saw the kids, her face lit up, and she walked over to greet them.

“There’s my bubbas!” Leah grinned, scooping Finley up in a quick hug before ruffling his hair.

“Mama!” Ellie squealed, reaching out for Leah, who knelt down to her level and gave her a big hug.

“Are you ready to walk out with me, Ellie Bee?” Leah asked. 

Ellie looked up at Leah, then back down the tunnel. “Beffy!” she declared again, pointing toward where Beth was chatting with some of the other players.

“What no!” Leah playfully gasped, “You’re walking with Mumma and Finn!”

Ellie shook her head as Leah tickled her stomach, “No! Beffy!”

Leah raised an eyebrow and looked at you with an amused smile. “Guess I’ve been replaced,” she teased.

You shrugged, laughing. “She’s been asking for Beth all morning.”

Leah glanced over at Beth, who had heard Ellie’s little voice and was already walking over with a grin on her face. “Am I stealing a bubba?” Beth asked as she crouched down beside Ellie, who immediately toddled over and wrapped her arms around Beth.

“Looks like it,” you said with a chuckle. “Are you okay with it?”

Beth picked Ellie up effortlessly, balancing her on her hip. “Of course! Come on, Els bells.”

Leah shook her head, still smiling. “Guess it’s just you and me, bubba,” she said to Finley, “Are you excited?”

Finley nodded his head, “Yeah so excited! I can tell all my friends I got to walk out at the Emirates!”

You kissed Leah’s cheek with a smile. “I’ll be watching from the sidelines. Good luck.”

Leah smiled, giving you a quick peck in return. “Thanks, babe. See you after the game.”

With that, Leah took Finley’s hand, and Beth, carrying Ellie, followed the rest of the team toward the tunnel. You watched as they lined up, the music beginning to play over the stadium’s loudspeakers. 

As they walked out onto the field, Finley looked so small yet so confident next to Leah, and Ellie—well, Ellie looked perfectly content in Beth’s arms, waving enthusiastically to the crowd next to Leah and Finley. 

Once the teams had walked out and the mascots had done their part, Leah brought Finley and Ellie back over to you. Finley was still buzzing with excitement, while Ellie reached for you, clearly ready to settle down for the game. 

“You did so great, Ellie,” you said as you scooped her up, resting her on your hip.

She snuggled into you, looking sleepy now that the excitement had passed. “Beffy,” she mumbled softly, resting her head against your shoulder.

You smiled and kissed her head. “Yes, you got to walk with Beffy, didn’t you?”

Leah leaned down to give Finley a high five. “I’ll see you after the game bubs. You were awesome out there.”

“Wasn’t scared at all, Mama!” Finley beamed, proud of himself.

Leah ruffled his hair again, then turned to you. “You heading up to the box?”

You nodded. “Yeah, we’ll watch from there. I’ll see you after the game.”

Leah gave you one last smile before jogging back to join her team for group photos. You took Finley’s hand and made your way up to the box, where Leah’s family was already waiting. Amanda, Leah’s mum, was the first to greet you with a warm smile.

“There they are, the stars of the show!” Amanda said, opening her arms to Finley, who immediately ran over for a hug.

Ellie, still on your hip, perked up at the sight of Jacob. “Snake!” she called out, her little arms stretching toward him.

Jacob grinned, reaching for her. “Hi Ellie Bee.” He settled her on his lap, and she immediately leaned against him, perfectly content.

You sat down with Finley on your lap, and the game began. Finley’s eyes were glued to the field, watching Leah with complete admiration. Every time Leah touched the ball, he’d point and shout, “That’s Mumma!”

The game ended in a win for Arsenal, and after the final whistle, you made your way down to the changing rooms. The atmosphere was buzzing with celebration, and you found Leah in the middle of it all, beaming.

“Hey,” she said, pulling you in for a hug, sweaty but happy. “What did you think?”

“Perfect game,” you replied, kissing her cheek. “And the mascots were a hit.”

Leah laughed, glancing over at the kids, who were now running around the room, Ellie chasing after Finley. “Yeah, even if I had some competition for Ellie’s attention.”

“She loves you both,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Leah smiled, watching the kids with warmth in her eyes. “Yeah, she does.”

Finley ran over, immediately hugging Leah’s legs, “Mumma, can we get pizza on the way home?”

Leah crouched down, “I’m sure we can sort something out, Bubba!” She then turned to Ellie and tickled her stomach, “What do you say, little miss? Should we get some pizza?”

Ellie giggled at Leah’s tickles, her little arms flailing as she tried to wriggle away. “Pizza!” she squealed, nodding her head vigorously. 

Leah stood up, laughing, and looked over at you. “Guess it’s pizza night.”

You smiled and shrugged, “I think we’ve been outvoted.”

As the team began to leave, you helped gather the kids' things, making sure Finley had his jacket and that Ellie’s shoes were still on, which was always a challenge now that she knew how to take them off. Leah quickly changed and said her goodbyes to her teammates, promising to see them at training the next day.

As you made your way out of the stadium, Ellie clung to Beth’s hand, still not quite ready to part ways with her favourite person. “Pizza with Beffy?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

Beth smiled down at her, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Not tonight, Els. But I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Ellie pouted for a second before nodding, clearly tired from all the excitement. Leah scooped her up into her arms, and Ellie rested her head against her shoulder. Finley, still bouncing with energy, walked next to you, his little feet skipping as he talked about the game.

“Did you see when Mumma almost scored? She was so close!” he said, his eyes wide with excitement.

“I saw, buddy. She played a great game,” you replied, ruffling his hair.

As you loaded everyone into the car, Leah leaned over to you with a tired but content smile. “It felt good having you in the stands.”

“We loved it, although I think Els was more interested in pulling Jacob’s nose.” You laughed. 

The drive home was filled with chatter about the game and plans for pizza. When you finally pulled into the driveway, Ellie was fast asleep in her car seat, her little face peaceful after such an eventful day. Finley, on the other hand, was still wide awake, already plotting what kind of pizza he wanted.

Leah carefully lifted Ellie out of the car and carried her inside while you wrangled Finley, who was still buzzing with energy. You ordered the pizzas while Leah got the kids changed, their tiny Arsenal kits now swapped for cosy pyjamas. 

As the pizzas arrived, Finley devoured his slices, chatting animatedly about the game, already asking when the next one would be. Ellie, still half asleep, nibbled on a small piece before falling asleep in her highchair. 

Leah smiled softly at the sight of Ellie, her head resting against the tray of her highchair, completely knocked out. “Looks like someone’s had a big day.”

You chuckled, wiping a bit of pizza sauce off Ellie’s cheek. “She gave it her all today. Walking out with Beth was her big moment.”

Finley, still wide awake and talking about the game, looked up at Leah with a big grin. “Mumma, can I be your mascot again next time?”

Leah laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “We’ll see, buddy. Maybe you and Ellie can take turns.”

Finley scrunched his nose. “But I wanna do it every time!”

You smiled, wrapping an arm around Leah’s shoulders. “We’ll talk about it, Finn. Right now, I think we all need to get some rest.”

Leah stood up, stretching her arms over her head before carefully lifting Ellie out of her highchair. “I’ll get this one to bed. She’s not going to make it another minute.”

You nodded and stood to clear the table. Finley was still chattering away, following you around the kitchen as you tidied up. “Did you see when Mumma passed the ball, and it went all the way down the field? It was so cool!”

“Yeah, Mumma was amazing out there!” you said with a proud smile.

After cleaning up, you and Leah finally settled on the couch, Finley between you two. He was still awake, though his eyes were beginning to droop.

Leah wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. “Alright, bubba. Time for bed soon.”

Finley yawned but snuggled into her side. “Okay, but just five more minutes.”

Leah glanced over at you with a smile. “Five more minutes.”

[insidekatmind]

Meet my sister P.6-Jude Bellingham

plot: Federico Valverde wants to introduce his younger sister to Jude, his teammate. He hoped that something romantic would be born between them seeing that their characters were perfect together but things take a different turn

warning: handjob, masturbation

The evening came, but sleep seemed far away, as if it were a luxury you could not afford. You turned and turned in bed, but the feeling that Jude left you didn’t leave you for a second. Every thought that crossed your mind was about him: his arrogant smile, the way he had treated you, how he made you feel so alive and at the same time so powerless.

You felt your heart beat fast, but you did not know whether for anger or something more. The way he looked at you, challenged you, made you feel so exposed, yet you couldn’t hate him. You were beating yourself up, trying to figure out what it was about his behavior that attracted you so much. Yet, every time you tried to analyze him, his arrogant smile came to mind as if it were a mark that marked you, preventing you from going further.

Meanwhile, in his room, Jude couldn’t sleep. The same frustration that tormented you also afflicted him. His mind was back to that moment, when he had you against the wall, feeling the warmth of your body near his. He couldn’t understand why he wanted you so much, not even he could explain it. He hated you for your behavior, for your challenge, but at the same time he couldn’t help wanting you beneath him. His body had reacted to you, and now the thought of you could not leave it.

"I can’t believe that it’s driving me crazy," she murmured to herself, clenching her fist. "I should hate her, yet..." She stopped, with a tormented expression. Every time she thought about how frustrated you looked at how she had not made you reach orgasm, she groaned. He needed more, he needed to be in control, yet he knew you were a challenge that he could never easily win.

"I must make her yield," he said, while a cynical smile appeared on his lips. But in his heart, he knew it would be much harder than he thought. Every part of him wanted to have the situation under control, but he knew you would never let him. That awareness was more than anything else.

And so, you were both trapped in your thoughts, unable to sleep, both marked by the game that you had started unintentionally, but which now seemed to have become more than a challenge. A challenge that was consuming you, even if neither of you wanted to admit it.

Jude took his cock in hand caressing it while he thought about how to make you a good whore for him, ruining you while you in your room started masturbating thinking of him. You groaned and thought as the hatred between you was turning into something different even though you weren’t yet ready to admit it.

You were both desperate for each other but seemed not to notice.

"I swear I’ll fuck you up that fucking attitude you have" he whispered to himself as he reached his orgasm.

---

The day of the match arrived with an electric energy in the air. Jude was on the field, focused on the game, but when he raised his eyes for a moment, they met yours, sitting in the stands. His gaze immediately ignited, a mischievous smile forming on his face, as if he had found a new opportunity to provoke you, as if simply seeing you there was another challenge he was about to face.

You, however, didn’t let it affect you. You rolled your eyes with a sigh of exasperation, as if you were tired of this game he kept playing. His arrogant smile didn’t intimidate you anymore—or at least, you pretended it didn’t, trying not to let him see just how much it was actually annoying you.

Jude watched you with an expression that mixed anger and desire, and for a moment, his eyes grew more intense. His focus, which had been on the game up until that point, seemed to shift entirely to you. He couldn’t look away. Your presence, that gesture of defiance, seemed to ignite something inside him that he couldn’t control. It was as if you were playing with him, and he was more than ready to respond.

His face hardened, the corners of his lips curving into a look of disapproval. The match continued, but for Jude, the challenge between the two of you had taken over. Every move he made on the field, every pass, every run, seemed to be accompanied by an internal struggle, one between the desire to see you submit and the need to dominate you.

You kept your eyes on him, a mocking smile on your lips. "You don’t think you can impress me with those tricks, do you?" you thought to yourself, keeping your gaze fixed on him, fully aware of the power you had in provoking him.

Meanwhile, Jude couldn’t stop thinking about you. The game was becoming just background noise, his body moving on the field as if following a script he couldn’t control, his eyes desperately searching for yours, as if every move you made was a new key to unlocking your game. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated that you weren’t giving in.

It was a vicious cycle, and both of you seemed trapped in it, with no way out.

As the game progressed, Jude’s focus sharpened. His movements were precise, his confidence soaring with each passing minute. The crowd roared in excitement, but for Jude, there was only one thing on his mind: you. He could feel your gaze on him, your challenge lingering in the air, and he knew it was time to make you see just how much control he had.

In the 65th minute, Jude made a brilliant run toward the goal. The ball was passed to him in perfect timing, and with a swift, powerful strike, he sent it flying into the back of the net. The stadium erupted in cheers, but Jude’s eyes weren’t on the crowd; they were on you. He raised his arm in the air, acknowledging the goal, but his focus never left you in the stands. The mischievous smile was back, his eyes locked on yours with a fire that seemed to dare you to challenge him further.

A few minutes later, Jude struck again, this time with even more precision. The ball rolled past the goalkeeper as if mocking him, and with that, Jude scored his second goal. The celebration was wild, his teammates slapping him on the back, but once again, he immediately sought you out with his gaze.

This time, the smirk on his face was even more pronounced. He knew he had just made an undeniable statement, and now, he wanted you to know it. Jude’s eyes locked with yours as he wiped sweat from his forehead, his lips curling into a grin of pure arrogance.

As he turned toward the other side of the field, he couldn’t resist glancing back at you, daring you to react. He could feel the tension between you both building, the undercurrent of competition rising as he fed off the energy you sent his way. You weren’t going to break him, but he was determined to see if you’d benAfter the game, the air was still thick with adrenaline. Fans outside the stadium were shouting and applauding, but you, paying little attention to the chaos around you, decided to head toward the area where your brother, Federico, was waiting with some of his teammates. Despite everything, the thought of Jude hadn’t left your mind, and when you entered the area reserved for players, your eyes were immediately drawn to his figure outside the locker room.

There, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was Jude. His eyes were fixed on you, and this time, there was no mask of provocation or disdain, only an arrogant smile that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was penetrating, as though he was studying you in every single detail, examining every move you made.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," he said with a tone that almost seemed amused, but there was also a hint of challenge. He slowly stood up, walking toward you with that air of superiority that you had come to recognize. Each step he took was filled with confidence, as if he were the one in control of the situation. And in a way, it seemed like he was.

You stopped a few steps away from him, not wanting to appear too vulnerable, but his smile annoyed you, making you feel like you were losing control. "Are you sure you want to play this game again?" you replied, trying to remain calm, but deep down, your frustration was growing.

Jude looked at you, his eyes full of a silent challenge. "Trust me, you're not the only one playing," he replied, his voice low and filled with unsettling confidence. He moved closer, until you were practically face to face. "You know, every time we cross paths, I can’t help but wonder... which one of us will give in first."

His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt like the distance between you two had evaporated, the tension thick in the air. But you didn’t let yourself be intimidated, even though you knew, deep down, you were playing a game that was slipping through your fingers.

"And what do you think?" you asked, your tone sarcastic, though your eyes betrayed you, unable to completely hide the turmoil inside.

He smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t just a smile of challenge. It was something deeper, as though he had just found the missing piece of the puzzle. "I think you're about to find out that it’s not just about who gives in first, but about who can keep control until the very end."

His words hit you like an electric shock. Jude had figured out exactly how to make you feel cornered, but you knew you wouldn’t give up easily. The battle between you two was just beginning, and the game was becoming more and more interesting.d, if you’d let that challenge turn into something more.

The crowd’s cheers filled the air, but in that moment, all Jude could hear was the beating of his own heart and the pulsing rhythm of your unspoken rivalry. You had his attention, and with those two goals, he had just made sure you knew it.

Before you could reply to that comment that had left you momentarily speechless, the locker room door suddenly swung open. Federico stepped out, his expression tired but immediately alert, his eyes darting quickly between you and Jude as if trying to ensure everything was under control.

"Please tell me you two weren’t arguing," Federico said in a tone that tried to stay calm but betrayed a certain level of concern. You knew him well; even if he tried not to show it, the tension in his gaze was obvious.

Jude wasted no time flashing that arrogant smirk of his—the one that made you want to teach him a lesson. "Arguing? Of course not, Fede," he replied smoothly, though his tone was dripping with provocation. "We were just... talking. You know how it is—your sister is always so fascinating in her arguments."

You turned toward Jude, clenching your fists to hold back your frustration. That smug grin, as if he thought he had won the battle, infuriated you, but there was no way you were going to let him have the upper hand. Not now, not ever.

"Fascinating is what people say when they’ve run out of intelligent comebacks," you shot back with a sweet smile, though your eyes were sharp like blades. "Federico, you should explain to your friends that they have no chance when they try to play games with me."

Federico sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Enough, you two. Why does it feel like you’re always about to explode whenever I see you together?"

Jude, without even glancing at Federico, kept his gaze locked on you, his smile widening even further. "Maybe it’s because someone can’t stand not being the one in control," he murmured, almost amused.

You felt the blood boiling in your veins. "Or maybe it’s because someone else should learn they’re not as interesting as they think," you retorted, refusing to back down.

Federico raised his hands in exasperation. "Enough, seriously! Jude, go change or do anything far away from my sister, please. And you…" he turned to you, pointing a finger. "Try not to rile up my teammates too much. It’s already complicated enough managing them without you adding fuel to the fire."

Jude stepped back, wearing that infuriatingly satisfied expression of someone who knew he’d left his mark. "As you wish, Fede," he said, raising his hands in feigned surrender. "See you later, princess," he added, looking at you with a gaze that was anything but innocent. Then he walked away, leaving you with a mix of anger and that frustrating feeling of being challenged once again.

Federico looked at you suspiciously. "What was that?" he asked, his eyes trying to read your expression.

"That?" you replied with a shrug, feigning indifference. "Just someone who can’t accept being put in his place." But deep down, you knew this game with Jude was far from over.

Federico nodded slowly at your words, but his gaze betrayed a certain skepticism. It was clear he wasn’t entirely convinced by your explanation, but for the moment, he decided to let it go. “Fine, but try not to cause any trouble,” he said before turning around and heading back into the locker room.

As soon as he walked through the door, a burst of loud laughter and muffled shouting greeted him. Federico stopped, closing his eyes for a moment as if summoning all the patience he could muster, then headed toward the center of the room. There, he found Vinicius, Rodrygo, Jude, and Mbappé in the middle of what could only be described as chaos.

Vinicius and Mbappé were competing to see who could knock over the most water bottles with rolled-up socks, while Rodrygo played referee, and Jude, comfortably seated on a bench, cheered them on with childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on, Vini! Aim better! You’re not on the pitch now!” Jude shouted, clapping his hands and laughing.

Federico ran a hand down his face, letting out a heavy sigh. “Is it possible that I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you turning this place into a circus?”

The four of them turned to him abruptly, but instead of looking guilty, Vinicius raised an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. “Relax, captain, we’re just blowing off some steam after the match.”

“Relax?” Federico repeated incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re making a mess, and if the coach comes by, who do you think will have to explain everything? Me, as always.”

Rodrygo stepped closer with his usual innocent smile. “Come on, Fede, you know you’re the dad of the team. It’s your job to keep us in line!”

Federico shot him a glare. “Dad of the team? I’m not your babysitter, Rodrygo.”

“Well, you kind of are,” Mbappé chimed in, laughing as he threw another sock at a bottle, narrowly missing. “If it weren’t for you, we’d all be sent off by halftime.”

“Exactly,” added Jude in his usual provocative tone. “You should be proud of us. We’re a constant challenge, aren’t we?”

Federico sighed again, shaking his head. “A constant challenge is putting it mildly. Now, put everything away and try acting like professionals. You’re not kids anymore.”

Vinicius chuckled but started picking up the socks, followed by the others. “Okay, Dad,” he said teasingly, earning another stern look from Federico.

As the four of them tried to tidy up, Federico sat down on a bench, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder how you even manage to win matches with all this chaos you bring with you.”

“It’s because we’re brilliant, Fede,” Mbappé replied with a dazzling smile, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Despite himself, Federico couldn’t help but smile. As messy and immature as they were, he knew he wouldn’t trade this team for anything in the world.

[trixy812]

nanami smut one shot plsplslpslpls plz !!

First time

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: kento nanami x reader (boyfriend x girlfriend), fluff, smut!, mdni, first time, Nanami!Virgin, no protection

ִֶָ࣪☾. Synopsis: It was inevitable. Nanami was going to lose his virginity to you

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: Sorry it took me longer than expected! It's been crazy and a little bit sad days. This is the second Omake of my Nanami x reader series :) it can also been read as a one-shote. This is my first time wrting smut it was really difficult (normally I write everything in spanish first and then I translate it and Man! sex words are hard to translate!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

First time

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The karaoke lights had been soft and almost romantic that night, but the heat between you and Nanami had reached an almost unbearable point. The kisses, the furtive touches sneaking under clothing, the palpable desire surrounding you both—it had been too much. At some moment, particularly when you had deftly and proudly unbuttoned and unzipped your irresistible boyfriend’s pants while still tangling your tongue with his, you were on the verge of freeing his pulsating erection from his boxers… when Nanami stopped you.

“Not here,” he said in a husky voice, his hands still gripping your hips. “This isn’t how I want our first time to be.”

At first, you felt a pang of frustration, but you understood what he meant. However, now, a few days later, something had shifted. Nanami was still attentive and loving, but there was a certain physical distance, as if something was holding him back. He no longer kissed you with the same urgency or held you by the waist with that passion that made you feel completely his.

Your mind, traitorous as ever, began whispering insecurities.

Maybe he doesn’t like you that much. Maybe he doesn’t desire you like you desire him. Maybe you’re not enough.

It had been a week since Nanami noticed something was different about you. It was almost imperceptible: a distraction in your eyes, a pause before replying to his messages. At first, he said nothing, preferring to give you space, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of something being wrong gnawed at him.

That afternoon, after your last class of the day, as often as his schedule allowed, Nanami came to pick you up. But instead of the animated chatter that usually filled the walks, you were silent, your gaze fixed on the ground. Nanami noted your unease, and although he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t.

When you reached your apartment, you turned to him with a tired smile. “Thanks for walking me home, Kento. I’ll see you another day, okay?”

He frowned, placing a hand on the doorframe to stop you from closing the door. “What’s going on?”

“What? Nothing, I’m just tired, that’s all,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

“You know I’m not stupid. Something’s bothering you, and you’d rather carry it alone than tell me,” he said with his usual calm tone, but there was a tension in his voice that made you step back.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s nothing important, Kento. I don’t want to bother you with silly things.”

“Let me decide what’s important or not,” he replied, stepping into the apartment uninvited.

You sighed, closing the door behind him. “Fine, if you insist…” You hesitated for a moment. Nanami was already sitting in one of the two chairs at your small dining table, so you decided to sit down as well.

“Is it that… you don’t find me attractive?”

The question caught him off guard. His eyes widened more than usual. “What? Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just that…” You lowered your gaze, fidgeting with your hands. “After what happened at the karaoke, I feel like you’re different. Like you don’t want to touch me or kiss me anymore. And I’d understand if it’s because you’re not that into me, but… it makes me sad.”

Nanami seemed at a loss for words for a moment. He stood up slowly from the chair and knelt in front of you so your eyes were level with his.

“Y/N, that’s not true. Not at all,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re beautiful. I’m so attracted to you that sometimes I think I’ll lose my mind just looking at you.”

“Then what’s going on?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes. “Why does it feel like you don’t want to be close to me in that way anymore?”

Nanami sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked uncomfortable but determined to explain himself.

“I’m nervous,” he confessed, lowering his gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. “That night at karaoke… I wanted to keep going. Really. But I thought it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to me… And after that, I started overthinking everything.”

“Overthinking what?” you asked, still confused.

“That I want it to be special for both of us. And that you’ve been with someone before.”

His confession left you stunned. “How do you know that?” Nanami ignored your question completely, not even reacting to it, and continued speaking.

“It’s just…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I feel like I won’t be able to stop myself from comparing to that experience. I don’t want to disappoint you or make you think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Nanami nodded, clearly embarrassed. “I’ve even been reading books like The Key... Books that might help me… do better for you. I want it to be perfect, something you’ll never regret.”

The tenderness you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, though your eyes still shimmered with tears. “Kento, you’re a complete idiot.”

Nanami frowned, clearly confused. “What?”

“The first time is never perfect,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t need you to read books or prepare like it’s an exam. I just want you to be with me.”

Nanami stared at you intently, his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own. His hand rose slowly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

“T/N…” he murmured your name softly, but his tone carried an intensity, as if every ounce of adoration he felt for you was encapsulated in those letters.

He leaned in, and his lips met yours with an urgency that stole your breath away. It was a kiss filled with need, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. His hands were far from idle. One rested on your cheek, cradling you like something precious and fragile, while the other slid down your arm to settle on your waist, pulling you closer.

Still seated, you leaned into him, your fingers finding their way into his blond hair, tangling in the strands with desperate affection.

The kiss deepened, and Nanami let out a soft sigh against your lips, as though releasing something he had been holding back for far too long. There was a fierceness in the way he kissed you, but also a meticulous care, as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

His lips parted just enough to let you both catch your breath, but not enough to break the moment. His half-lidded gaze met yours, his breathing ragged, and his lips slightly reddened from the fervent kiss.

Despite the unrestrained passion, you could tell Nanami was still nervous—not out of lack of desire, but because he was, after all, himself: a perfectionist, someone who wanted to give you his absolute best.

You felt butterflies in your stomach too, but it wasn’t fear or insecurity. It was determination. The disappointment of your first experience no longer intimidated you, because this was different. This was Nanami. And that changed everything.

"Stand up," you instructed, your voice steady. Without hesitation, he obeyed, now standing before you, his posture stiff, betraying the nerves he tried to hide.

Still seated, with your legs crossed, you kept your gaze fixed on him, feeling a rush of anticipation course through you. Your hands, steady yet gentle, reached for the waistband of his trousers. The motion was slow, almost ceremonial, as you felt the firmness of his abdomen beneath the fabric. Your fingers worked precisely, unbuttoning the top before carefully sliding down the zipper, the sound amplified in the quiet room.

As your hands lowered the fabric without hesitation, the tension in Nanami's body became evident. His muscles subtly tensed at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained perfectly still, allowing you to continue. Inside, you felt a surge of courage—not because you were experienced, but because Nanami’s own nerves paradoxically gave you strength. Someone had to take the lead, to be the strong one for both of you, and you were proud it could be you.

Sliding his trousers and underwear down his hips, you let them fall gently to his knees.

And there it was. A solid and imposing erection. Just the sight of it made your core ache, pulsing with the desire to feel something tangible.

Nanami took a deep breath, his eyes glancing to the side, unable to meet yours directly. His cheeks burned with a deep blush, and in a low, firm tone, he muttered:

"Never say again that you don’t attract me…” His voice faltered slightly before he continued, still avoiding your gaze. “Look... how hard you make me.”

Hearing his words, something ignited within you, and an overwhelming wave of desire surged through your body. You licked every inch of his testicles, letting your tongue trace along the length of his shaft. Taking as much of his erection as you could into your mouth, you began sucking and drawing him in with eager attention.

Nanami didn’t moan—he growled softly, expressing his pleasure through the guttural sounds that escaped him, showing just how much he appreciated the care you were giving his throbbing erection.

But just as he neared the brink, you paused, withdrawing your attention. It was your turn now.

Decisively, you slid out of your pants and underwear, revealing your center. Without breaking eye contact with Nanami, you grasped his wrists firmly and guided him down until he was kneeling before you. The intensity in his gaze revealed that any lingering nerves had been replaced by pure desire, his rapid breathing reflecting how much you affected him.

Gripping the backs of your knees, he pushed your legs apart, exposing your most intimate self.

Nanami, always so composed and reserved, now stared at your exposed sex with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your center. The warmth of his breath against you made your mind spiral.

As he tasted you for the first time, his eyes lit up in a way that was utterly uncharacteristic—a genuine, pure delight that disarmed him completely. You were delicious, and the realization left him undone.

In seconds, his usual restraint crumbled. He devoured you with unbridled enthusiasm, losing himself entirely in the act. For a moment, the ever-gentlemanly Nanami was gone, replaced by someone who savored every moment as if the world had narrowed to just you.

FLUTTER!

With a swift and decisive motion, Nanami reversed your positions. Now he sat in the chair, and you straddled his lap. This was the moment.

You brought your forehead to his, letting them rest against each other, and with one last kiss, you guided his erection clumsily but confidently to your waiting entrance. Holding your breath, you let him fill you completely.

"Nothing in my life has ever felt this good," Nanami thought.

You wrapped your arms around him, wanting him as close as possible. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he set a steady and fast rhythm. You could feel the heat building inside you as your bodies moved together in perfect sync.

Nanami’s rhythm faltered, and with a strained groan, he surrendered. The heat of his release filled you, leaving you trembling in his arms.

You shared a look, a smile, and one last passionate kiss.

Still holding him tightly, your forehead against his, you whispered: “It was perfect.”

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

A/N: Nanami knows you are not a virgin anymore because one time he overheard your mom said to your dad something like

"She thinks we are dumb. She said she was going out to eat with a friend and she came back hungry and with her hair wet..."

>////////////<

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

First time

[phantomyre]

Vincent had no doubt Sephiroth had witnessed the ugly truth about the company, but he was also their esteemed creation, thus the company would've likely hidden some of the worst of truths from Sephiroth. Nevertheless, to Sephiroth’s point, everyone stepping foot into Shinra to serve the company did make a choice that day. Vincent couldn’t fault Sephiroth’s perspective. In Vincent’s eyes, however, even though Sephiroth was forced into this world as a monster, Vincent believed Sephiroth had the power to defy his fate; it was just a matter of breaking from Jenova. He had the power to do so, Vincent felt sure of it. After all, Sephiroth had created his own goal to usurp authority over the planet’s future. Was that not actively defying his own fate? Or was this also a part of Jenova’s plan? What was Sephiroth’s will? And which was Jenova’s? Jenova had her puppet strings wrapped around Sephiroth so tightly that their wills often seemed to blend. No matter how keen Vincent could become towards Sephiroth’s every actions and motives, there was still the enigma of Jenova looming behind Sephiroth. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised Vincent, but Sephiroth’s curt response to his question of existence perplexed the gunslinger, leaving him visibly confused and surprised, mentally taking a step back. So it seemed Sephiroth had contemplated removing his own life. A bitter existence, indeed. As much as Shinra had sought to make him the golden child of the ages, they had fabricated him in such a way that even the most powerful beings on the planet would feel trapped in his own skin, desirous of release. Would it had been any different had Lucrecia been there for Sephiroth…? Vincent recalled how soulless Sephiroth had become after his return from meeting Lucrecia. The idea that Sephiroth was aware of his real birth mother’s existence, yet clinging to Jenova was a curious one. Perhaps Jenova had manipulated his mind. Or perhaps he truly no longer cared for her. Still, it was all assumptions. Lucrecia wasn’t aware of Sephiroth still being alive. So at the very least, it was one-sided. Lucrecia deserved to see her son, as did Sephiroth deserve to see his mother. And while circumstances made Vincent assume Sephiroth was already privy to Lucrecia, deep inside, he couldn’t shake the idea that perhaps their reunion had never happened. Before it was too late, Vincent would need to find a way for them to meet… somehow. However, there would still be an impending threat… Jenova. Vincent could practically feel the daggers in Sephiroth's words. The only thing that caused Vincent to rise from that coffin was the desire for revenge. To shed blood. But things had changed. What did Sephiroth have to cling to? A false comfort? Would it be cruel to take even that from Sephiroth…? Vincent lowered his head sullenly, unable to look Sephiroth in the eyes as the thoughts whirled in his mind. Sensing Sephiroth approach and stop just beside him, Vincent remained silent and unwavering; Sephiroth’s words doing what he had anticipated it would do to the gunslinger. But then the following question caused Vincent to glare toward the ground. He didn’t turn to look at Sephiroth, his head heavy with melancholy. He could hear mutterings of voices coming from Sephiroth’s direction. The clones had arrived. "Hmph. Cessation,” His dark chuckle echoed from the ex-Turk, shaking his head once. “I’ve long abandoned that illusion,” he hedged his answer, though knowing Sephiroth was already aware of Vincent’s real answer. As Sephiroth continued to speak, divulging a hint of his goal, concern filled Vincent's chest as he lifted his head and turned to face Sephiroth half way, looking up towards the oncoming clones. They had been following Sephiroth. But what was he going to do with them? “Alternative...?”

The venom in Sephiroth’s voice was anything but subtle. Sephiroth could lightly regard anyone else’s plight in favor of his own. And while others would have spurned it all in the name of calling Sephiroth a full-bred monster, Vincent could understand Sephiroth’s point of view to some degree. However, he also knew that what Sephiroth knew of the Turks was only from the viewpoint of someone who had no understanding of kindness, of sympathy, a conscience, or simply moral dilemma. One couldn’t have a set of morals without an opposing side to compare it with. There was no point in correcting Sephiroth’s opinions in that respect.

“I cannot speak for the other departments. But as a Turk, the only way to leave Shinra is death. To defy ones orders could also lead to the same punishment.” The Turks were like walking secret databases. They were a huge liability to the company. The only free Turk was a dead Turk. Once a Turk, always a Turk.

Perhaps to Sephiroth, death was indeed a choice. But for mortals, it was the end of everything. Yet knowing this, Vincent had chosen to defy Hojo. He should have been dead. But instead, he had received an even worse punishment. Neither of them had the choice of becoming a monster. But unlike Sephiroth, Vincent did have a choice stepping into Shinra and submitting himself as a permanent employee of Shinra. He had a choice to become complacent and allow Hojo to work unsullied. He would have probably been high up in the ranks, and still be human, well respected within Shinra as head of the Turks. But now he was a killing machine, Sephiroth was a monster, and Lucrecia’s existence hung in the balance. If death could be considered a choice, then technically Sephiroth was correct. Knowing what Vincent knew of the Jenova cells, death was a luxury to even Sephiroth. The man was indeed a prisoner to the inevitable. It was tragic… something Sephiroth was quick to remind Vincent about. What was more blood on top of blood already spilled?

Vincent knew there was little he could do to explain the reasoning behind his motivation to spare the life of another. A soft glare crossed over Vincent’s face as Sephiroth trivialized his past murders. At this point, he couldn’t tell if it was Sephiroth or Jenova trying to worm their way under his nerves. Either way, he could feel a trap once again being laid. It was just a ploy to get him to do even more killings. “…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?” Sephiroth had killed more than all the Turks combined. He was the most feared being in the entire planet, outside of Jenova. While one could argue Sephiroth had committed the greater evil, the flip-side could also be stated that Sephiroth saw himself as a savior. The Turks were ‘just doing their job’. Sephiroth was ‘just doing what Jenova wanted’. The sharp gaze from Sephiroth didn’t visually affect Vincent, but he felt it very keenly all the same. It was fleeting, but that response was coming from the depths of a hurt boy buried long ago. As Sephiroth drew his gaze upward, his second comment caught Vincent a bit off guard. Was Sephiroth admitting he had wished he had perished those many years ago…? Vincent wouldn’t have doubted such a dark thought had crossed his mind. It had certainly been one of his own wishes as well. The question made the gunslinger grimace and look away, diverting his gaze towards some of the gaping caverns where the winds were swirling. He wasn’t any better than Sephiroth. But at least he had something to anchor his sanity onto-- For now at least. He was merely a step away from becoming no different. “To kill the son of the woman who loved him” Vincent spoke more to himself than to Sephiroth, his fist tensing slightly at his side. "Or to let him live, knowing he would suffer." The guilt-laden gunslinger lifted his eyes, finally meeting Sephiroth's dagger-like gaze; his own eyes reflecting something akin to sympathy and less malice. "You were robbed of a normal life, yes." "...But should I have deprived you of a chance to live, as well?"

[damn-stark]

Chapter 31 In that big ol’ room

Chapter 31 of Moonlight

A/N- we’re close to the end :(

Warning- talks of postpartum depression, ANGST, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 535-539

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

The memory of her death, even though it was recent and still a raw one in your mind, can’t stop playing in your head over and over again.

Like a veil it obscures your vision, not letting you take a good look at the newborn babies you just gave birth to, and here's the thing, as bad as it sounds you don’t care to look at them. Even if you cradle them both in your arms you can’t find that joy or relief to look at their red little faces and wait for their eyes to open to tell you who their father might be.

You keep the veil over your face like a badge of honor to remind yourself why you wear it. You don’t want to forget even if it's impossible to do so. Does it make you a terrible mother?

All you wanted to be as a mother was to be the mother yours was to you. You want to nuzzle with all three of your babies now that you’re together. You want to love them and let go of your pain, but…then Daenys begins to cry a shrieking cry and it takes you back to that moment where your mother shrieked before she burnt, and you’re bombarded with frustration.

“Take them,” you demand and turn to the edge of the bed to let a handmaiden take them from your arms so they can shush the shrieking babe.

However, she only cries louder and your frustration starts to torture you by bringing rage along.

You try to shake it off, but as you close your eyes the memory of your mother burning plays vividly so you quickly snap your eyes open and simply sit there ruminating in your anger and frustration, hoping it’ll fade into something you can manage, but alas, that veil only gets thicker to the point you can’t see what’s in front of you. All that exists is your anger and…a desire—no, an obligation to kill Aegon for what he did. It doesn’t matter if they end up killing you in the process.

You don’t care as long as he’s dead too.

He has to die…

Thus in a blinded rage, you swipe the scissors that the handmaidens used to cut the twin’s umbilical cord and then drag yourself off the bed, catching the immediate attention of all the handmaidens.

“Princess what are you doing?! You should not be moving!” Vanessa warns you and rushes to your side to attempt and move you back to bed, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Leave me,” you snap without meeting her gaze. “I am going to try and call to my dragon,” you lie and push yourself off the bed, causing your bloody and soaked gown to fall over your body, and feeling sharp pains shooting throughout your body, threatening to keep you down, but you just clutch onto your belly and swallow back your pained groan before you start to drag your feet without bothering to put anything on your feet.

You just start walking, making the poor handmaidens' hearts hurt with pity and concern.

“Don’t dare and follow me,” you warn them as you keep the scissors hidden in your sleeve so they won’t stop you.

“But—”

“No,” you cut them off and leave out the door where guards are there to greet you. “If you follow me I won’t need my dragon to kill you. I’ll do it myself,” you warn them bitterly.

However, unlike the handmaidens, they move to trail after you, making you bring yourself to a stop and peer over your shoulder with a glare. “I said. Stay,” you grimace. “Guard the twins. They are more important. What threat can I be anyway?” You try to deceive them, and after a moment of debate, they step back to their previous position, letting you continue to trudge forward.

However, every step you take is a cruel reminder of what you just went through. And with every step you want to stop and take a break, but you keep moving your bare feet and exhausted body forward because what is your pain compared to the pain your mother went through every single second before she was ripped apart?

Nothing…that’s what. Nothing compares to the suffering she went through. It's why you keep moving forward. It’s why you clench your jaw as you grow angrier, and it’s why you clutch onto the scissors you keep hidden. Even though you have no idea where Aegon is, you keep moving—then again is it really hard to find him as he’s bound to that wooden chair?

Not likely. He can only be in so many places. Is it the throne room? The master quarters? Or the meeting room?

You’ll go search in all of them if you have to. Even if you’re writhing in agony you will find him. After all, what does he know of Dragonstone? He’s never called it home like you have. This is your home! Yours! Your mothers, your brothers, your cousins, and your children’s home! Not his! So you will find Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon…

After a while of stalking through those corridors like a vengeful ghost terrorizing the castle, you finally catch the sound of his voice coming from the meeting room. He’s not alone either, you can hear Ser Alfred and Lord Larys with him too, but it’s okay you can wait and if they don't leave his side then you’ll still ram your scissors through Aegon’s throat.

You wait first though. Just for a while.

“…killing Lord Corlys Velaryon would not be a wise action. Even if Ser Alfred has a point about having Rhaenyra's allies suffer consequences, he still has the greatest fleet and a bastard boy who will never ally with us.”

Aegon hums before he interjects. “Then…we make him bend the knee and ask for forgiveness. He did turn against Rhaenyra when she imprisoned him, besides…his counsel would be welcome.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl and your grip around the scissors only tightens more.

“If he doesn’t comply we have his granddaughters in our grasp. We will just threaten one of their lives until he bends the knee,” he shares without an ounce of hesitation. His words just roll off of his tongue.

“That will surely work, but I’m certain we won’t have to take those measures,” Lord Larys says before Ser Alfred cuts in.

“That is if he doesn’t call to his other granddaughter, Lady Rhaena, and her wild dragon. With Astraea still alive, they could use Lord Stark’s new host and Lady Arryn’s host to turn against us. And we don’t have the numbers to compete.”

Aegon scoffs with displeasure and Ser Alfred continues with a bit of hesitation.

“That is why I suggest we kill Rhaenyra’s son Aegon…”

Your pinched eyebrows falter as the rage contorting your face turns to disbelief for a second.

“…That way they don’t have an heir to use against us. With Prince Aemond’s son you don’t need Aegon as heir, nor will your niece be a threat with her now betrothed to Lord Stark. Killing Aegon will discourage the forces, it will show them that we still have power and that we are not to be trifled with.”

No. No. No…

Aegon can’t die too. Your mother would have fought to the death to keep him alive; her last living son.

Plus, he is your brother. Even if you weren’t raised together and he’s more like a stranger to you, he’s still the last living brother you have so he can’t die. You can’t let him die, and…you…won’t. Even if it means swallowing your anger and your pride you will keep him alive.

Thus after a deep shuddering breath, you drop the scissors meant to kill Aegon, making a loud clattering sound the moment the metal hits the floor. After that, you draw out another trembling breath before you slowly step out of hiding and come across guards on their way to investigate the noise.

“I have come to see the King,” you mutter in defeat and ignore the way they look at you with disgust as you’re still wearing your birthing gown and have not cleaned any of your sweat, tears, or blood.

“This…way,” one guard points to the hall as he steps aside, letting you push your chin up and continue to trudge forward.

Once you’re in the sights of all three men you bring yourself to a halt and force yourself to drag your eyes toward Aegon, even if it brings you more pain than when you were walking where you are.

“Princess,” Ser Alfred gasps.

“Bring—”

“No,” you cut Lord Larys off and hold your belly. “I come to say one thing.”

You draw in a deep breath as you hesitate to form your next words.

You will say what you came here to say, there’s no doubt about it. But even if it hurts to admit it, having to sacrifice your own dreams to save your brother wounds you deeply because it’s Aegon; the man who killed your mother, the man who you always hated, and the man who has always been so perverted and gross. Furthermore, after having immunity by being betrothed to Cregan, Aegon is taking that away too.

“I,” you breathe out and break your silence, but don’t continue right away. First, you fall to your knees with a pained groan and then, continue with your head hanging. “…Will marry you.”

You miss the looks that are shared and fail to look strong and nonchalant. Your voice and your face both expose your weakness as those words pierce your soul.

“Just please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Don't kill my brother. He-he can go to the wall the moment he turns of age. Just please, please don’t kill him,” you plead in the same desperation you used to plead for your mother's life.

“He’s all I have left of my family,” you whisper. “Please, Aegon. He doesn’t even have to be raised in the Red Keep, you can send him to be someone’s ward. Just please…don’t kill him.”

You can hear shifting and wood creaking before Aegon’s voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and a twinge of anger sparks back where it had been burning before.

“Look at me,” he says smugly because he has control over you like never before. And even if you don’t want to meet his gaze. Even if the thought disgusts and angers you, you slowly pull your head up and meet his gaze with a hardened look.

“I accept your proposal. It’s a relief you came to your senses, my sweet niece. Just tell me you renounce your betrothed Lord Stark and you are mine.”

You swallow back thickly and feel your lips twitch down before you open your mouth and respond with dread. “I do. I renounce my betrothed Lord Cregan Stark.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Were my letters sent?”

“Yes,” Vanessa gives your question a response before leaving you in your solitude once again.

“<I love you.>”.

Tears slipped past her eyes…small beads of salt and sorrow littered water rolled down her face the same way they involuntarily run down your cheeks right now. You remember.

Having memories is a blessing. The way one's mind can recall things that happened in the past is truly fascinating, but right now, like every other second since your mother died, your mind and your memories are cruel. They bring such a visceral physical aching pain that can’t be tamed, it's so deafening and it makes you grow overwhelmed fast. It doesn't even let you find solace in the sun's touch because you refuse to welcome its cold embrace.

Usually admiring the sea is a quick calming effect too, but even though you’re surrounded by it as you remain in Dragonstone, you refuse to look at it; almost as if it is guilty of causing your pain.

Lastly, being with Aerion is a great way to bring a smile to your face and relax your current aching heart, but you can’t be your children’s mother right now. You tried, you really have tried, but that connection feels like it’s blocked by the entity that is your rage, grief, and sorrow. It feels like you can’t love them until you take care of that which brought you pain and took everything away from you. Is it cruel?

Maybe, but you did make it your task to at least study your twins to know how they look, and you can say that Daenys has the same blond-silver hair and blue eyes Aemond had. It’s too soon to tell but you have a feeling she’s going to look like him too. As for Daenerys, she’s smaller just like she was in the womb; she’s a lot slimmer than her sister too, and her eyes are…grey, but Vanessa says that she’s far too young to really know if that’s the eye color she’ll have forever. They might change colors as she grows older, so the jury is still out on who her father might be, more so because her hair color is white-silver just like yours, which, that in itself is good. It’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.

So now all that you’re pestered with is that you can’t be the mother that your children so desperately need. With Aerion grown so attached to your mother, he’s missing her terribly. He won’t stop calling out for her, and it hurts because you’re here but you can’t make yourself comfort him, and it’s not because you don’t want to, you do, but…there’s just so much pain that you can't scrape up an ounce of any other emotion besides anger. Loud, throbbing, and agonizing anger that makes you scream out to the ground as you fold over the edge of the bed.

Does that ease everything that torments you? No, but it lets you stand up and walk out of your chambers—at least Aegon lets you have free reign of the castle since you are his betrothed and because he knows you won’t risk your brother's life since he holds it in the palm of his hand.

Alas, when you step out and try to walk to the library or anywhere you can spend your time where Aegon won’t be, you’re reminded of your mother. The memory of her haunts every hall and every corridor, so you can either return to your quarters or go…visit Baela. You haven’t gone to see her or attempted to free her from her imprisonment because once again it’s your emotions that keep you away, they’ve kept you captive and isolated in your lonesome to let you simmer in your rage-born hatred.

However, you have nothing to do now and Baela has no clue what happened—and how can you let her continue with her days thinking of a life that no longer exists? And if you can’t muster an ounce of warmth then she at least deserves to know the truth. Thus after some hesitation, you make your way to the cells at the lowest part of the castle, but linger in the shadows for a moment and debate returning to the isolation of your chambers as you imagine how the interaction could play out.

She could hate you and she could also blame you for your mother's death, but if she doesn’t know she wouldn’t have the ability to do any of those things.

Yet she needs to know, so after a deep breath you slowly walk out of the shadows and make your way to the only occupied cell. Right away Baela spots the shadow that casts on the cell floor and lets her curiosity get answered by looking over and seeing you standing at the other side of those bars.

“Baela,” you greet her with a whisper and she takes a few more hard blinks before she shoves herself to her feet and rushes to the bars, letting you notice that she looks slimmer than the last time you saw her, and she has burn scars on one part of her face. She also has short hair now too so she sports a cute afro.

“The twins,” she says after she uttered your name with a surprised gasp. “They’re born?”

You offer her the ghost of a smile and nod. “Yes, girls, Daenys and Daenerys.”

Baela sighs with relief and offers you a sweet and happy smile that you can’t mirror. She’s quick to notice it; along with your drooped eyes and falling lips. Yet before she can interject you beat her to speaking.

“Aegon told me about what happened. I’m sorry about Moondancer,” you offer her your condolences and linger where you are for a second before you step forward and gently wrap your hands around hers.

“She went out fighting,” her voice quivers, and her eyes water. “And she might have not killed Sunfyre but…”

“He can't fly because of Moondancer, he’s rotting away in the courtyard,” you cut her off to offer her some hope before the dread is revealed.

“Sunfyre is dying?” Baela queries with a twitch of her lips.

“He is.” You nod. “No doubt about it. He should die any day now.”

Baela musters a faint smirk before lifting her chin and slowly looking at you in confusion. “What are you doing here without chains? Is Astraea okay?”

You nod lightly. “She suffered some injuries at the Second Battle at Tumbleton, but she will be fine. She’s just off the Island for now.”

Baela scoffs and passes you an amused look. “Why? Are you two upset with each other?”

You swallow back thickly and let the silence build up as you admire the way she manages to smile in such gloomy times and in such a dark space.

“No,” you mumble after a moment of admiration and drop your head to let out a heavy sigh whilst your grip unknowingly tightens around her hands. “Baela listen to me…I’m here because I was hurt in the battle at Tumbleton. Astraea brought me here and Aegon and his party were able to hold me captive,” you pause and she tries to slip her grasp from under your hold, but you refuse to let go.

“Okay,” Baela whispers.

“In my captivity, I attempted to escape to find my mother, and I did find her, but,” you swallow back the lump that was quick to form in your throat. “She was already here. I couldn’t even sail past the island,” you mutter and find it hard to look up at Baela even though you’re curious about her current reaction.

“I tried to save her. I swam and ran to her to try and save her, but…I-I was too late,” your voice quivers and you feel Baela stiffen under your grasp—“they overwhelmed us and Ser Jason betrayed us, so they were able to take us. That’s…when…Aegon,” you gasp shakily. “He…killed her,” you let out with a growl as your anger overturns the sorrow that was clinging in your throat.

“No,” Baela whispers. “No. No…” she trails off and manages to yank her hands from under your grasp.

You continue to look at the ground beneath your feet, but you hear her back away in the growing silence.

And it’s in the silence that violent memories of that night come forth and you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You push back your grief and sorrow, and let your agony, your loud and throbbing rage come forth to take control of every part of you.

“But it’s okay,” you interject in a voice that finally holds emotion, but not warmth to comfort her, a coldness that only accompanies the bad. “It’s okay, Baela,” you continue and look at her with a gaze bathing in raging flames of malice, giving Baela chills when she finds your eyes.

“<Because I will avenge her. I will avenge our Queen,” you say in Valyrian so the guards nearby won’t understand. “I’m set to marry Aegon, and it’s when I become his Queen and garner some of his trust that I will kill him. We will.>”

Baela watches you with concern as your eyes grow dark and a wicked smirk paints on your lips. Yet she also feels relieved that your mother will be avenged. It’s that fire that will keep the war alive and bring justice.

However, you then continue adding on to your plans.

“<But not before I burn down the part of King’s Landing that killed Joffrey and forced my mother to flee,>” you reveal without remorse or a hint of deceit, only coldness and madness, and that’s when Baela’s concern outgrows her own thirst for revenge because hasn’t she lost enough?

“<But you can’t,>” she protests your plans in Valyrian and makes your face contort with confusion.

“<But I can,” you counter. “I have the means to. I have my dragon. And they deserve it. How can they go unpunished when they rose up against the crown? Besides,” you scoff. “Say what you want about Aegon, but he is still a Targaryen and those were our dragons, he’ll let me take revenge and put those people in their place.>”

Baela makes her way back to the bars and you see her eyes are still gleaming, but now as she speaks you know she doesn’t cry for your mother, she’s tearing up out of a gnawing worry. “<But what will raining fire down on those people cost but your life? Your own humanity?>”

“<Humanity?>” You quip and feel your face twist back with anger. “<Did they have humanity when they killed my son's dragon? Or every other dragon that lived in that pit, at that? Did they have humanity when they rose up against a woman trying to help them?!>” You raise your voice and grip onto those bars with a deadly grip.

“Perhaps not,” Baela counters in the common tongue. “<But that’s when you become the bigger person and show them we can still be a fraction they can trust and believe in. We can have them help us in our fight against the traitors that still remain!>”

You look at her as if she offended you and shake your head. “But don’t you get it? It was because they turned against my mother that she had to flee. It was because of them that she’s dead! There's no point in saving such traitorous and disgusting people. Don’t you see?”

“And don’t you see that raining fire will result in more smallfolk asking for your head?!” She exclaims. “Don't you see that it will turn you into someone unrecognizable that you won’t even comprehend? You will lose yourself!”

You clench your jaw and lower your jaw as your glare turns fierce.

“Let it go,” Baela warns. “Let all that anger and thirst for revenge go because it will kill you and I have already lost enough. We both have. Just do it the right away. It may be a longer path but it won’t get you killed.”

You blink as you take in her words. Not because you’re considering them, but because you don’t know what to answer with. Not at that moment.

“No,” is all you muster, and fall quiet again, letting her draw out a deep breath and linger in the growing silence for a moment before you finally blurt words that just bombard your mind. “What if it had been Jace?”

“Don’t,” Baela warns but you continue and lean your face towards the bar.

“I will,” you rebuttal and keep going. “If it had been Jace who had died in that riot you would not think twice about doing what I want to do even if it cost your life!”

“I said don’t!” Baela exclaims and slams her hands on the bars hoping it will scare you off, but you just stare deep into her eyes and try to press her.

Yet there’s no buttons to push. Anger perhaps reigned over her once, but you don’t see it now through the windows that let you take a peek at her tired soul.

“Do what you want,” she says and follows up with your name as she continues. “Just don’t expect me to have your back because your mother is the last person I will grieve in this war,” she remarks and backs away toward the shadows of her cell. “I won’t hold a candle for you anymore,” she adds with an attempt at sounding angry but she sounds more sad than anything else.

“Okay,” you mutter and blink repeatedly, feeling your eyes sting with tears that build up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly in comprehension before you turn and storm away with your agitation almost rising off your head in the form of steam.

How could she of all people expect you to let your anger go? Why can’t she muster the energy to keep pushing a little longer? Isn’t her grief, rage, and agony loud and chaotic too?

Nevertheless, when you reach the door and try to leave the dungeon, the door opens and guards barge in.

There’s no one else in this dungeon for them to take so even if you're pissed off at Baela, you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels to watch them open her cell.

“What are you doing?” You probe with curiosity and worry that form quickly.

When neither of the men answers, you march over to the man yanking Baela out of her cell, and demand an answer. “Where are you taking Lady Baela? Answer me!”

The guard looks at you from the corner of his eyes and deadpans. “The King wants to see her in the courtyard.”

What? What for?

These men won’t answer you, they hardly wanted to answer your previous question, so you turn swiftly and storm past them to reach the courtyard first. That’s when you come to a stop though and get riddled with disgust when the stench of rotting flesh hits your nose before you’re shocked to see that Sunfyre is no longer struggling to stay alive. He’s dead, and Aegon…when you let yourself take him in you notice that his eyes are red and puffy, but they're also mixed with anger.

“What do you want from Baela?” You demand him and struggle to hold his gaze.

“So you do come out of your chambers?” Aegon remarks and doesn’t hold amusement or any kind of teasing glint, his gaze remains narrowed and locked on you. “You’ll see.”

You huff and stomp toward him to keep pressing him, but his sad attempt at a Kingsguard puts themselves in between him and you, leaving only glares to be passed and challenged until Baela is brought forth.

“Sunfyre is dead,” Aegon blurts but there’s a hint of…sadness in his voice and why wouldn’t there be? No matter what you feel about Aegon, he was still a dragonrider and his bond with his dragon was like yours with Astraea, so it’s easy to tell why he expresses such sadness.

“And it’s because of you and your damned dragon,” Aegon hisses and has the guards move aside to let him pass and drag his wooden chair toward Baela. “So it’s good your dragon paid the price, but now you must pay it too.”

“No,” you interrupt him and take a big step forward to try and get close, but a guard once again steps in between and blocks you away from Aegon with his arm.

“I renounced my betrothed to be yours. I am going to be your willing wife once we return to King’s Landing,” you remind him with distress building in your voice. “Which means that our sins have been pardoned, you cannot kill her. Spare her life.”

Aegon tilts his head and shakes it. “No. I already spared your brother's life. He’s a threat to my claim, but I spared him because you and I will marry. That was the only condition you could be granted. No more. She will die for what she did,” he spats in return and then snaps his gaze to the guards holding Baela so they can drag her to the block.

“Aegon!” You exclaim and look at him with desperation. The same desperation you used when your mother was in a similar position. “Please!”

“<I love you.>”.

You gasp and try to move toward Baela now that you have free range, but the guard that had kept you from Aegon wraps his arms around your waist to hold you back, making those words that just echoed in your head get louder, and making the image of her, your mother start forming in your mind and threaten to paralyze you.

“<I love you.>”.

No. No, no, go away. Go away…

“Aegon, please,” you whisper and look over at him with tears that are quick to form in your eyes. “She’s still your cousin. She…she…” you trail off as the image of your mother appears before you in the same way before she died, so you’re forcefully ripped away from the current moment and return to that night.

You see her as clear as day all over again. You see her in front of Sunfyre.

You want to save her, but you can’t. Once again you’re useless in the situation and you watch as the fire bathes her all over again, ripping her away from you.

“NOO!” You bellow and reach out for her, but the moment you blink you’re brought back to reality and Baela is now taking your mother's place.

“The princess is right about sparing Lady Baela’s life,” the new maester interjects and glances at you with concern. “She is still a Velaryon, daughter to Lady Laena, and granddaughter to Lord Corlys. If you kill her he might turn his fleet against you and trap you here. There has been no word about him declaring war so it’s safe to assume you can negotiate a deal but only if his remaining kin are left alive.”

You keep your eyes on Aegon to wait and watch him ponder the decision laid before him while Baela’s head remains on the chopping block.

“Aegon,” you mumble but don’t gain his attention. He keeps his eyes averted and remains silent until he comes up with his answer.

“Alright then. Send a letter to the Sea Snake’s bastard…the living one,” he snickers and steals a glance at you so you know he’s taunting you. “Tell him if he doesn’t present himself in a fortnight to pay homage to his rightful liege, his niece Lady Baela will die.”

The maester bows and scurries off, whilst the guards pull Baela to her feet and without needing to be told, they start dragging her back where they had brought her from, letting you draw out a deep relieved breath, and part away from the guard still holding you back to get close to Baela.

Albeit it’s when you’re near her that she drags her eyes toward you and mutters. “I did not need your help nor did this change my mind about you.”

You blink in disbelief and draw in a shaky breath of shock before you push your nose up in the air and nod stiffly because this hasn’t changed your mind about what you need to do. “If that’s what you want I won’t beg for your attention.”

You let out a deep breath and watch her get taken away with your jaw clenched, and your eyes cloudy with tears unaware of the fact that that would be the last time you would see her. Not forever, but while you waited for a response you were restricted from going down to the dungeons—so much for free range. So you were left waiting in your quarters for days and days for any response whether it was a direct attack or a letter.

Then again, you did not mind being still and waiting because it let you plan what you wanted to do to get rid of Aegon once and for all. Besides, you weren't desperate to look for some way to talk to Baela either. Perhaps you should’ve snuck your way down to the dungeons and made peace with her—it’s what your mother and Jacaerys would have told you to do, but you heard what she said, and you were being honest in what you said too, so you kept your word while you were waiting in your solitude and just planned and let yourself get lost in your thoughts again and again.

That is until finally word came from Kings Landing that your grandfather Lord Corlys had declared his loyalty to Aegon, and that he was pardoned and accepted back in the Small Council after declaring his allegiance to the Broken King. In turn, Baela was spared from her fate and finally brought out from the dark dungeon, but not spared from chains. She would be kept in chains until you reached Kings Landing, which won’t be long now because at long last, “we’re going home”, left Aegon’s lips.

Thus finally after weeks, you were allowed to leave the grey walls and haunting halls of Dragonstone. Yet what was leaving Dragonstone really worth when every waking hour, with every step you take, and every breath you breathe you’re reminded of her, your mother, and her death.

The memory of her death is like a never-ending loop that the sight of the sea can’t wash away while you’re on your way back to King's Landing. Which is such a shame because you really love the sea...

“You know,” you say to Aegon after you debated long and hard if you wanted to speak to him or not—“it was the Smallfolk who killed all the dragons. They’re the ones to blame for not letting you have access to a new dragon.”

Aegon watches the waves splitting against the ship while you watch the clouds with a hint of a smirk.

“I know,” Aegon mutters.

“We have to respond to their treason and rebellion with fire,” you share as you catch a large, winged shadow form in the clouds. “We have to remind them that there are consequences to their actions and that we are still the crown and that they are sheep. Even if they did defy the opposing side.”

Aegon doesn’t respond right away, he stays quiet and continues to watch the way the waves part.

“What would you have me do?” Aegon almost snaps at you, but he manages to keep his composure and just sounds annoyed.

“Let me rain fire on them,” you share the plan you’ve been brewing for a while. “Not the entire city, just a section of it so they remember we hold the power. That they have to look up at us. We are not their equal.”

Aegon slowly diverts his eyes away from the waves and starts to turn his head to look at you, but before he can take a glance the sound of clicking coming from above steals his attention before a roar that rattles the wooden boards and shakes the water's surface blasts from the clouds.

“Why should I trust you not turning against me when you’re on your dragon?” He asks the right question as claws and a purple-scaled belly break the clouds as Astraea reveals only a part of herself first before she dives down in front of the running ship and quickly yet shakily swoops up to the air with a large fish caught in her claws.

“Because,” you say with a faint smile as you watch your dragon go back to hiding in the clouds. “You have my brother's life in your hands and I will do anything to keep my last remaining brother alive.”

You finally drop your eyes to look down at Aegon and await his response, knowing that he knows that if he doesn’t act, people will view him as weak and he doesn’t want people to keep thinking that about him. Not anymore because after all that’s happened he’s still alive and the King.

“Fine. Do it,” Aegon gives in, causing a wicked smirk to break on your lips.

——

“Who is it that you wanted to be?”

A peaceful tranquility can almost be felt radiating from Shae’s Manse as the brisk wind running over King’s Landing almost seems to carry it in between its gusts that hit you while you sit upon your dragon; causing your long sleeves designed like dragon wings, and the end of your crimson dipped skirt to blow behind you while your shining silver chain head peace that falls over your face like a veil, sings as the wind makes the silver chains hit each other lightly.

“Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen; a kind one like my great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

You’ve had time to think about what you wanted to do and yes there were moments in time when you hesitated and wanted to back off from your plan for the sake of the innocent lives that had to do with running your mother out of town. However, just as your plans fire is going to die out, the sparks of anger, revenge, and agony keep it alive because that same mother returns to haunt your thoughts, and then you can’t stand the thought of the people’s betrayal going unpunished.

Besides, they had their chance and they wasted it. They chose fear, so you will give them something to fear.

“<Forward.>” You command Astraea in Valyrian and nudge the handles down regardless of your verbal command. All without changing a single expression on your face. Even if you're full of rage, your exhaustion, grief, and agony keep their claim on your face, exposing someone who looks empty and tired of everything life has thrown at them, even something as small as expressing emotion.

Then again you are tired. You’re tired of it all. You just want silence and a moment of stillness and where else can you find it but here? In this current moment as Astraea flies past the wall and brings the Smallfolk a moment of darkness as her shadow casts over the streets, homes, and busybodies.

However, the darkness doesn’t scare them right away because when they look up they see The Adventurous Astraea, a dragon known as tolerant to people, protective and kind to those you love, and obedient to her rider. So they look away from the purple beast. Some welcome the dragon as they start to feel immediately safer due to all the criminal activity that has ravished the city. However, they should have known. They should have expected consequences for their crimes.

No bad deed goes unpunished and you are here now for justice. You are your mother and Joffrey’s revenge.

You are their terror.

“Dracarys,” you sneer and lift your chin slightly to look down at the people with a change in your gaze, going from an exhausted and empty look to a pierced glare reflecting the roaring fire as it falls from Astraea’s mouth and rains down on the people.

There’s no hesitation, no pause, or a small taste of justice. The cries and screams don’t reach your heart because now it’s impenetrable. Like a nasty and quick plague, the fire keeps unfolding over the streets of Shae’s Manse, causing that beautiful tranquility that once traveled past the city walls to erupt into an uproar of chaos.

Some people that were lucky to escape the flames that ate away at everything and everyone in its way, found salvation in Flea Bottom. However, the same can’t be said for the people who try to escape toward Rhaeny’s Hill because you and Astraea turn your terror toward it.

If only the Dragonpit had been intact because people could be safe and untouched by the fire in there, but alas, it was the Smallfolk who caused the Dragonpit to fall when they killed those dragons. It was their own stupidity that destroyed their biggest means of salvation because Astraea doesn’t put it up in flames, you make sure to leave it untouched by any flames.

When you fly past what was once the city’s greatest wonder, you continue to spread your terror with more vigor. With more rage and pure visceral hate because if it wasn’t for them your mother would have never fled King’s Landing! She wouldn’t have fallen in Aegon’s clutches! And she would still be alive!

But no, they ran her out of her home. They killed your brother Joffrey and took the person you loved the most. Them! They did it! Every single filthy person below was the cause of your mother's death. They robbed you of your hope, joy, and light and left you in the dark void where all you have is your pain that throbs in the same way your heart beats. And with every single ba-dum, there's a reminder of what you lost and the pain it brings. And with every other beat the pain and the hate that was already so overwhelming spreads.

How much more of it can you handle? You don’t want to hurt, but you can’t forget. The pain is constant and the memory is haunting and loud! You just want it to stop!

“Please, please, please,” you beg in your mind and close your eyes, but Sunfyre ripping your mother apart flashes in your mind. You see her dying over and over again and it all grows louder.

The cries and pleas coming from below grow tenfold, adding the volume in your head. The fire's constant roar heightens too and it all starts to swirl in your head until you let out a blood-curdling scream that finally brings silence.

The fire that you rain doesn’t come to a stop, you continue to spread it as you fly down the Street of Seeds, but everything is quiet. There’s a peace in the chaos that you alone relish in until finally you hit Cobble Square and have Astraea finally stop, letting you tune into the noise once again.

However, rather than turning your dragon around and flying toward the Red Keep, you descend your dragon and land on Cobble Square to watch the beauty of the flames as they rise toward the sky, and the thick smoke pollutes the air. Furthermore in that moment as you stand there taking it all in, a swarm of people who were unscathed, and people who were caught on fire run toward you, but not to seek your attention nor is it because they’re full of wonder by your appearance. The people ran past you in terror. They don’t try to touch you or ask for a simple greeting, they shove past you because they’re terrified.

And that's all you wanted, but not all you see. You also see your mother standing in the middle of the chaos that runs at you; she glows in the chaos and outshines the bright flames, but doesn’t carry any notable emotion. She just watches you and you watch her as if telling her that this is all for her.

After a lingering minute of the world just being about her illusion and you, you decide to turn away and mount your dragon to fly to the Red Keep. This time when you land, people don’t run, nor do they look at you with fear. You find horror in the eyes of the survivors like Alicent, Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and your grandfather Lord Corlys as they stand in the courtyard after having greeted their King.

Your grandfather tries to find the answer in your eyes, but when he finds your gaze past your veil of chains he sees a glossy yet narrowed and burning gaze. That girl he was looking for is gone; he sees that when you stop by him, but that's not all because he’s the only one who looks deeper than the surface. Everyone else sees a mad woman who couldn’t be stopped because it was the King himself who allowed the terror to happen.

“Welcome home, Princess. It’s good to see you again.” Your grandfather breaks his stunned silence, making you slowly find his gaze and neither smile nor frown. Your gaze remains glossy and hardened and keeps holding that fiery behind them that tells him without a need for words that there’s nothing good about being back.

“Did they find the guilty party for the uprising?” You ask bluntly without returning his warmth despite the fire you hold. “I want to see them”

Your grandfather sighs and hesitates before he nods. “Yes, but,” he pauses. “The King wants to wait until after the wedding to pass judgment on the guilty. He is eager…” he trails off and you avert your gaze and nod stiffly before you walk without bothering to greet anyone else even though Lord Borros had restored peace to the city, and Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off you, almost like she wanted to talk to you but also couldn’t bring herself to do it, so instead she just stands there watching you until you completely disappear inside and aren't seen again. Not like before.

Before you were spotted in the halls of the Red Keep frequently. When you were young it always varied whether you were alone or accompanied, but you truly lived up to the name they had given you, “The Golden Girl.” It was always such a delight for so many to see you. And when you got older, when you returned from the North, people often sought out a mere glimpse of your appearance as you had grown more glorious, and it’s not like you didn’t give them a reason not to seek you out, because oh, you did. You intrigued them more with the warmth that flowed from you and embraced their presence like the sun embraced everyone it saw.

Now no one sought you out, you were not a glorious presence riddled with warmth. You would be like a dark cloud bringing in a storm that everyone wants gone and wants to avoid; if you would get out of your quarters that is, but you didn’t. You stayed inside your quarters as if locked inside, making everyone believe you felt safer and more comfortable within your four walls, but that was far from the truth. You’re miserable. You can hardly sleep or stand being awake. You hardly eat and don’t do anything you used to like. You hardly see your children. You’re just there wallowing in everything that torments you.

When the day of the wedding rolls around (which was only two days after you returned) you did manage to get in a few winks of sleep and when you woke up there he was, your husband, your Aemond. He’s still asleep with his long blond-silver hair in a braid, and his calm breaths making his chest and nostrils rise and fall ever so gently.

He honestly looks like a beautiful piece of artwork that you can admire for hours, but alas, you want to be that much closer to him so you raise your hand right from under you and reach out for his cheek to stroke it.

Yet, when your hand is about to make contact with his flesh you're abruptly reminded that no one is lying beside you, and Aemond is in fact dead. You wake up alone in a cold room looking at an empty space, remembering, like a slap to the face, that today is your wedding to the man you hate.

You could jump out of your balcony and avoid the entire thing, but they’re all now depending on you, aren’t they? Everyone that died? They depend on you to try and get your mother's own blood on her rightful throne. You can feel the pressure of their haunting hands holding you up, pushing you to keep fighting another day and walk down that aisle to play your part in this war still kept alive by sparks and people fanning the flames.

Thus you let the army of women get you ready. You drape on your heavy ivory wedding gown dipped in crimson red, and hide your grieving and hardened face behind a crystal-littered veil before you finally drag your feet out of your quarters.

This time around your wedding isn’t private nor is it done under Valyrian traditions like when Aemond and you married on that hill with no one but your dragons, Helaena, his mother, and Aegon. The sun isn’t out, and the sea isn’t accompanying you either, snow graces Kings Landing as it gently falls from the sky, and hundreds pairs of eyes are forced to be your witness to show the people that at long last the Targaryen family had mended their differences and rejoined their forces as one.

War will surely end now, and peace will finally return to the realm!

That’s all they want, that’s all they care about. They don’t care about Aegon marrying you, they stopped caring about you the moment you turned your dragon against them, so they don’t care if you look miserable. Not even the highborn Lords that stand nearby care that you never lift your head off the ground throughout the ceremony done under the eyes of the Seven. They just care about finally reeling you in and locking you away to bring an end to the war (they started).

The only people who care are Cregan who is too far to do anything to stop the wedding, and you, but they can’t hear you screaming and crying because you suffer quietly and act like the cooperating princess. That’s what you let Aegon see when he drapes his cloak on your back to signify that you’re at last his, cooperation and emptiness, and that’s what you continue to show him when he lifts the veil off your face. However, he ignores that as he's eager to finally know the taste of your lips.

“You truly are radiant today,” he says with a faint smirk, making you offer him a soft scoff as a response before you stand to your given height after having to crouch to his level, causing the veil to slip over on your face as you turn away from him to let the ceremony continue to the second portion; your coronation.

However, as much as you dreamt and as excited as you once were to hear those glorious words directed at you. Now you simply tune them out and don’t even think about smiling or mustering any ounce of pride when the time comes for the crown to be placed upon your veiled-covered head.

Albeit you also don’t look like there’s no soul inside your body. When you turn to face the crowd of people, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of your lips droop with your faint scowl, and the crystal fragments on your veil cascade down so perfectly that it looks like there’s tears rolling down your cheeks, leading the audience to see you as some ethereal beauty; like those tapestries and statues of beautiful weeping gods. However, it’s all a trick of the bright white light reflecting through the windows of the Great Sept, because the mist in your eyes reflects the flames of ferocity still very much alive inside.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

It’s a good thing Aegon can’t get his cock up anymore or else the night would be unpleasant and traumatizing. And it was almost traumatizing, but when it came to the bedding ceremony he couldn’t make it work, no matter the hunger in his eyes, so he began to drink and sent you off after he told you to swear that you wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.

But who could you tell? Baela? She doesn’t talk to you even though she’s not living in a cell anymore.

Vanessa? Sure, but the conversation will get a couple of laughs before it’s over and done with.

Rhaena? She’s still in the Eyrie and by the time she responds your amusement would have died down, so no there’s no one you could have actually told, he’s made sure of that…

Nevertheless, it’s a good thing the bedding ceremony didn’t last—or start to begin with because now you can put all your focus on the significant matter at hand.

“Ser Cane!” You greet excitedly as you watch him taking his hood off as he’s climbing up the steps of the Red Keep.

“Your Grace,” he responds with a hint of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant voice. “Look at you,” he muses and when he finally reaches you on top of the staircase he bows before he puts his arms out. “I hope it was a safe delivery.”

You avert your gaze and respond quietly. “It was a rather stressful one but the three of us are alive so it was safe.”

Your sworn protector sighs and drops one arm back to his side while he lets the other one hover over your shoulder for a second before he lets it fall gently. “My deepest condolences about your loss, my Queen.”

You blink repeatedly and feel your eyes sting at the weight of his words because you can hear that he actually means what he says, but you refuse to cry so you just take a deep breath and look up at him with a thankful smile. “Thank you Ser…was your trip here pleasant?”

Ser Cane drops his hand and shrugs. “As good as it gets.”

You scoff softly in response before you point your head inside. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

Without any protest or attempt to add anything right there on the staircase where you have prying eyes, Ser Cane follows you inside to a secluded corner barely touched by nearby candlelight.

“How was the wedding?” Ser Cane asks with a hint of amusement.

“Pft,” you blow out and turn around on your heels with a smirk. “I got to wear beautiful gowns, and I now own beautiful crowns so I’ll say it was pleasant.”

Ser Cane scoffs and when you’re facing each other under the faint candlelight you begin to fiddle with your rings and probe. “Is Cregan okay? Safe?”

“He was worried,” Ser Cane admits as he watches your downcasted gaze. “He almost went mad with worry, but when we heard word of your wellbeing he calmed down. I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat given the chance, but he’s keeping his head up and doing his job. He’s waiting on his army, they should reach him soon.”

Your lips fall as you nod gently in comprehension and take it all in without letting the news ache your heart too much. You feel it get tugged at as you imagine what Cregan might be feeling and thinking after you had finally gotten your chance to start your long-awaited story together, but he can’t take up all your thoughts nor can you let him torment you too harshly because there’s still a sliver of hope. If he gives you one more chance then there will be no more obstacles after this.

“How did he take the news about me being engaged to Aegon?” You have to ask as that specific thought has been killing you since he couldn’t respond back with a letter of his thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know,” Ser Cane admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, your Grace. He read the letter in his private quarters and when he came out, well…you know how he is. Cool as ice.”

The corner of your lips twitch up and you nod in agreement before you ask one more thing. “You didn’t tell him why you left, did you?”

Ser Cane scoffs. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I am not doubting you Ser, I just know that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have denied him an answer. You’re respectful that way.”

Ser Cane pulls something out of his satchel that’s hidden behind his cloak and then shakes his head. “Not with your personal matters, My Queen,” he says with a small proud smile that stays on his face as he hands you a small flask wrapped with parchment paper.

Before you pull the paper off the flask though, you offer him a flustered smile and then proceed to take the paper off to read the words it holds.

“You are going down the right path.

I will see you soon enough. Until then.

-Alys”

You smile softly and with admiration, before you hand the letter to Ser Cane so he can put it away while you lift your hand to look at the slow-acting poison you asked Alys to concoct for you.

“Great. Now I hope you’re able to stand on your feet for a while longer, Ser because we have work to do,” you let him know with a smug hint in your tone of voice as you hand him the flask so he can keep it hidden for you in his satchel for now.

“Of course, I can,” he assures you, making you flash him a smirk before you depart from your dimly lit corner and return to your quarters, but not to stay there. You take the hidden passage hidden within the walls of your quarters and guide Ser Cane down corridors festered with rats and only lit by the torch that you both hold in your hands.

There are many times when your sworn protector wants to question where you’re leading him, but he trusts you so follows you blindly until finally, you hit a stone wall that holds a doorknob.

“Here,” you point your chin to the doorknob on the wall.

“Are you sure?” Ser Cane asks for your safety.

You hum in agreement and take his torch before you step aside to let him open the door.

Once the light from inside the room casts outside you hang the torches on the wall, and let Ser Cane take the lead to the mysterious room.

“Who goes there?” A voice from inside carries out, but doesn’t get answered as Ser Cane stomps in, nor when you strut behind him and get surrounded by the brighter room. You let the sight of your presence answer the question your grandfather, Baela, and Lord Larys ask themselves.

“Granddaughter,” your grandfather gasps as he watches you quietly stride toward the chair at the end of the table.

“Queen,” Ser Cane corrects him as he closes the secret door. “She’s your Queen.”

“Your Grace,” your grandfather corrects himself whilst Lord Larys immediately greets you with the right title and Baela stays quiet.

Albeit you ignore the greetings so it doesn’t matter. You just take a seat on the chair that steals all of the attention of the room, and sit up straight with your nose in the air and a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Sit my Lords and Lady, we have a coup to plan.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Ser Cane the father that stepped up

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[ellouchi]

Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

jayvik headcanons because my heart is happy but also hurts.

these take place either in that special part of s1 act 1 where nothing went wrong with them yet OR in a special universe where nothing will ever go wrong ever <3

Viktor either talks endlessly or has periods of silence Jayce listens to every word and responds but also knows when it's just silent 'be together time".

Jayce talks a lot as well, but he'll start a subject, pause for a few hours, then continue on later as if he didn't take a break. Viktor fully understands this.

They are literally each other's worst hype man. the words "no, don't do that" have rarely been uttered in their lab. if they are it's about not eating/sleeping or something unrelated to science. these men are "yes, and" till the very end.

Heimerdinger laughs anytime someone is like "At least Talis has someone to calm him down now!" Because like. His assistant (who he should apologize to for not encouraging him more) is literally insane.

Jayce can charm the pants off of anyone in order to gain something, but only at a gala or function. Only works on the rich. He's gotten him and Viktor bigger labs, lots of funding, new things.

Viktor, however, either intentionally or unintentionally, gets free shit all the time from local owners/regular workers because his natural snark and calm demeanor (plus the looks and accent) have people eating out of the palm of his hand.

He's unaware his usual drink/breakfast order costs less then it should and is more portioned. A local bookstore owner gives him the best copies.

Viktor mentions Singed one time and Jayce was like. no wonder you failed lab safety three times. is like okay you're never seeing that man ever again.

Jayce is very artistically inclined. Musically or visually. He can sing (doesn't like to in front of many people) and sings often to only his mom, Viktor, and maybe Caitlyn. Has the best music taste. A bookshelf full of records.

Viktor is fantastic with kids to the point he has a mom fan club. (Some dads too). This is because he took over for a science lab for a week to help out an old colleague and by the end the back row was filled with parents just watching and listening because their kids were actually interested in school for the first time ever

Jayce....is awkward with kids. He likes them, but my man does not know how to deal. He likes babies because they're small and cute, will hold a baby all day. but toddlers and kids? what do you discuss with them? taxes?

both avoid older kids and teens like the plague though. it's understandable. have you meet a thirteen year old? scary.

Viktor didn't even notice until Caitlyn pointed it out (very coyly) that pretty much all the clothes and accessories he has are in Talis house colors. Jayce did it intentionally 100%.

Viktor wanders whenever theyre out traveling. Jayce blinks and suddenly Viktor is halfway up the road or a new item has caught his eye.