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thaatdigitaldiary · 19 hours

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from miss, to mrs: part 1

paige bueckers x fem oc

miss (to mrs 🤫) leyah smith is now introduced! i hope you likeee! - this is going to be a multiple part series, hope you enjoy!

fluff, angst, family issues, passive aggressive homophobia VERY MESSY, LOCK IN | tw

leyah smith and basketball star paige bueckers have been eyeing each other since sophomore year of college, getting to know each other, and falling in love. will this relationship ruin leyah’s connection with her family, simply because she sees her future with a woman? will she forget how they treat her, and live her life with the woman she loves?

as i always say, enjoy 🙂‍↕️

all her life, leyah smith was constantly in hiding. growing up was the hardest thing for her, she was a closeted lesbian with a homophobic family, something she wished on no one. she was so excited to be going out of state for college, committing to uconn, where she majored in human development, something she's wanted to do since she was a freshman in high school. when she started going to classes for her major, there was a frequent face. paige bueckers, one of the greatest basketball players during just her freshman year, leyah honestly being a big fan, and it didn't help that she was attractive.

the first time leyah actually spoke to her didn't happen until maybe the second week of school. before then, nothing but swift glances at each other, holding eye contact for an unholy amount of time. that is until one day paige spoke up first. "aye, i uh, fuck wit' your sweater." paige says, referring to leyah's lavender button up cardigan. "purple's my favorite color." she says with a smile. "really? mine too." leyah tells the blonde, smiling back at her, causing an eruption of butterflies to burst in paige's stomach. leyah smith's smile was beautiful.

since then, paige and leyah talked all. the. time. everytime they had a class together, they'd schedule a time to walk together like highschoolers, but they loved it. leyah was starting to fall for paige, but she had to refrain from hurting her. she made the mistake of hiding her ex girlfriend from her family in her junior year of highschool, and needless to say, it was the worst point in her life.

paige was so charming, and she had the sweetest soul imaginable. one night in leyah's dorm, she listened when leyah spoke about her past, her parents, and how she hasn't spoken to them since she got to connecticut. she didn't force leyah to go into detail about anything, as the story itself is sickening and depressing, and anytime leyah started speaking on it, her throat caught, and tears immediately started to build up. "hey, cmere," she says, opening her arms up for a hug, which leyah needed so bad. "i'm so sorry they made you feel that way ley. you don't deserve that. you want me to stay?" was what paige said to leyah when she opened up for the first time. they started having these deep conversations often, which led to paige sleeping over frequently.

leyah really took a liking into paige, falling in love with her, and really wanting to spend every awakening moment with her. but how with her family judging her every way of life? how could she be happy knowing her parents would be dissatisfied?

junior year of highschool

during leyah's junior year of highschool, she had a secret girlfriend named alexia. she thought she could pull it off until she got out of the house, but that wasn't possible. with her strict parents monitoring her every move, she never had a moment of peace with her girlfriend, her parents constantly peeking over her shoulder, asking her questions on top of questions, infuriating leyah to say the least. her and her girlfriend were constantly having problems, but she had no one to go to, with her parents out the question for advice, she had no one to turn to but her older sister, mariah.

"i don't know what to do mariah, i can't just go to mom and dad about it, they'll kill me." leyah tried to confide in mariah, yearning for some type of advice. "look leyley, if you wanna fix your issues with her, just go see her. just tell mom and dad you gotta study or somethin'." mariah was no help for leyah, but she was all she had. "it's not that easy riah, they're already nosy as fuck, and i've been over there like-, three times this week." leyah didn't know what to do about her relationship, so she let things be. alexia broke up with her over text a couple days later, leaving leyah devastated. mariah comforted her younger sister, giving her a sense of stability in her confusing household. leyah had to hide how upset she was about the breakup, since her parents couldn't know the real reason she was upset. she blamed her sadness on her grades, in which her family simply told her to "get them up" and keep it pushing. leyah was ready to get out of this house and on her own, where she wouldn't be so scared to be herself.

about a month after alexia and leyah broke up, mariah encouraged leyah to get out the house, maybe to help her lighten up a bit. leyah was nervous, she was a homebody, going out after barely leaving her house on the weekends was abnormal to her. mariah had persuaded her into going to a houseparty with her, trying to help leyah loosen up and forget about alexia, even though that wasn't that easy. leyah obliged, finding something to change into once they got into mariah's car, as the girls told their parents they were going to the library to study with some friends.

they make it to the party, and leyah isn't big on alcohol or weed, any type of substance makes her head throb. her sister however, was quick to down any cup thrown at her, being a champ at holding her liquor and taking a while to get completely drunk. this night in particular though, her sister drank hella, so leyah found way to a seat, waiting for her sister to finish having her fun so they could make way back home.

"jesus riah, you reek." leyah said, helping her sister balance on both her feet, making way to mariah's car. luckily leyah had her license, because she'd be damned if she let her sister drive back home in the state she was in. mariah started slurring a bunch of nonsense, so much liquor in her system she could barely function, spewing out words that would definitely get her in trouble if they were in front of their parents.

leyah pulls into the driveway of her house, knowing her mom and dad were going to get onto them, because with mariah smelling like straight alcohol, they were bound to be confronted by them, and just her luck, her mother was in the kitchen, awaiting their arrival.

"library huh? what library has you coming back smelling like alcohol mariah." their mom says, stern and cold. "mom,- it doesn't even matter, like-," mariah goes to argue with their mother, but is quickly cut off. "doesn't matter! mariah, it does matter. i don't want my children going out and getting drunk!" the yelling from leyah's mom was echoing throughout the house, causing leyah's father to walk in, his heavy footsteps on the wood floor making it easy to know he was approaching. "what's going on here, and mariah? why do you smell like a liquor store?" he starts yelling as well, making leyah overstimulated. "oh my god! would you two stop pestering me? my situation isn't even a big deal. you know what's bigger? the fact that leyah.. doesn't even like boys." her drunken words completely altered their parents faces, all eyes went from on mariah to on leyah. mariah doesn't even realize what she said until a minute after, when leyah's parents look at her, eyes of dissappointment and rage. "excuse me?" her mom starts. "the fuck is she talking about leyah? she's lying. tell me she's lying." leyah is frozen with fear, not knowing whether to lie and have her parents prance around her forever, or tell the truth and know her parents would practically disown her. it didn’t matter, she couldn’t even explain herself. "i don't even wanna look at you leyah, go to your room." her father says to her, his tone belittling and angry. leyah doesn't maintain eye contact with her parents, and she walks to her room, eyes flooded with tears.

"ley, listen i-," mariah starts. "mariah please leave, i don't wanna see you right now." leyah is sobbing at this point, her biggest secret was out, and it was because of someone she trusted most. "i didn't mean to, i'm drunk and-," leyah cuts her sister off. "get out mariah, i trusted you. i don't wanna speak to you, ever." from then on leyah was really quiet in her house, not even saying goodbye when she left for school. but what hurt most is that there were no more "i love you's" being said to her in the household, and she knew why.

present time

paige groaned as she woke up to the bright sunlight beaming through leyah's window. she had stayed the previous night, as leyah was feeling lonely, not having anyone to confide in but paige. leyah loved paige's company, and paige loved leyah's. but they were both trying to play it safe. it made things difficult, with paige being a basketball superstar and leyah trying to get her degree, there was room for no distractions. although leyah preached about no distractions all school year, as time went on, she couldn't help but be enticed by paige, every move made, was beautiful. paige was no better, being there for leyah was something she enjoyed, being that shoulder to cry on when times were hard, becoming leyah’s outlet was the best thing she could’ve done. paige wanted to be more for leyah, in multiple ways.

with their junior year of college approaching, leyah and paige quickly became known for hanging out every single day, 24/7, never seen apart. paige wanted to make leyah her girlfriend but she knew how difficult things would get, for her and for leyah. little did she know how bad leyah wanted to be hers.

“my godddd, i don’t know what to wear,” leyah complained, looking for an outfit to wear to class as paige was still laid up in her bed, scrolling through instagram. “ley trust, if you wore a plastic bag you’d still turn heads. just wear some sweats and a tshirt or something, light work.” leyah scoffs at this, “paige that’s your signature look, not mine.” paige raises up and retaliates. “oh so i don’t look good?” she says defensively. “p, i did not say that.” paige smirks at her, “oh so i look good is whatchu’ saying?” leyah wanted to say yes, but instead decided to throw a pillow at paige, hitting her face while leyah laughs at her. paige gets out of leyah’s bed and makes it up for her while she finds an outfit. when paige stayed over, her and leyah always shared her bed, it was a queen size, and paige didn’t “want leyah to be lonely” so she insisted. not like leyah minded though.

“ley, you want me to cook you anything while i’m here? i know you’re gettin’ ready and stuff.” the gesture made leyah smile, and she kindly accepted, asking for something simple, telling paige a smoothie was fine since she had class soon. while paige gathered the ingredients to make a top tier fruit smoothie, leyah was buttoning up lowrise baggy jeans, paired with an emerald green crop top, and her jordan lows to match. she was putting on her necklace when paige notices her, the way leyah’s whole body was toned, her hair silk pressed, and her dainty gold hoops in her ears, reflecting everytime she was under light. “okay ley i see you, you look pretty. thought you was just going to class?” leyah blushes at paige’s compliment. “thank you paigey, and yeah my class is in a couple minutes but i’m meeting someone after.” paige looks at her confused, as leyah never talked to anyone on campus. “wha-, who?” paige asks the girl.

“my sister.”

paige was shocked at leyah’s answer, considering leyah told her that they haven’t spoken since she left for college. “your sister? i thought yall weren’t in touch anymore.” paige asks. concerned for leyah. “she called me this morning. she asked if i could come over for dinner since we’re on break soon. she’s here for business, so she asked to meet up so i told her i’d talk to her in person, and decide about going down there when im ready.” paige’s eyes were filled with empathy as she noticed the nervousness in every move leyah made, as she worried about the confrontation she’d receive if she saw her family again.

leyah leaves her class and makes way to her car, to drive to the cafe her and her sister were supposed to meet at. leyah is petrified to see her sister’s face again, the feeling of anger she had, outting her like that. and just as leyah was going to turn around and go home, paige texted her.

“hey ley, i know this is gonna be hard for you, seeing her again. if you need anything i’m a phone call away, and if you want me to pull or anything i gotchu princess💕”

the text made leyah ease up a bit, and she hearted the message and responded, “thank you paige. i hope this goes well and thank you for being here, i don’t know what i’d do without you <3.” paige hearted the message and sent a “no problem princess, i don’t know what i’d do with you either pretty lady😊” back. paige was so corny, but it was the cutest thing ever to leyah, it was always genuine. leyah checked her makeup and grabbed her purse, and with that she got out of her car and made way into the cafe.

she sat down at a booth, tapping her nails on the wooden table, anticipating seeing her sister again. that’s when the cafe’s door opened, the bell at the top ringing, signaling someone walked in. it was mariah. leyah almost hadn’t recognized her, her brunette head was now dyed a gingery red color, she was taller and tan, small tattoos on her arms, and she sat down. “hi leyley.” mariah says softly. “leyah is fine.” leyah says, full eye contact with her sister who let her down a while ago. “okay leyah, i’m here to ask you, no-, beg you to come to dinner during fall break. i seriously miss you.” leyah sighed, scared to see her family again. “yeah you can miss me, but mom and dad don’t even wanna look at me.” mariah tries to reassure her, “that’s not true, they miss you too.” leyah scoffs. “oh yeah? did they say that?” leyah raises her eyebrow waiting for a response. “well, no-, but cmon ley, they have to. you’re their kid.” leyah starts tapping her nail on the table again, trying to cloud her mind. “well mariah, i was still their kid when they chose to stop speaking to me for years.” mariah went silent, and everything was awkward. “look mariah, i’ll think about it, but it’s not a yes or a no.” mariah smiled at her sister, standing up and about to leave, when she asked to hug her. leyah allowed her sister hug her, because honestly, they both truly missed each other.

leyah walks back to her car and texts paige. “hey, me and her talked. she looks so different. she gave me details and stuff about the dinner but idk.” paige responds fast, “you gon’ go?” leyah starts typing again, and tells paige “idk. yeah i miss her but my parents made me feel like dogshit. if they wanted me there they would’ve asked me themselves.” leyah tears up, the thought of her parents not even missing her making her undeniably upset. “ley you don’t know that, your sister seems to miss you. give it a shot princess” leyah loved when paige called her that, especially because it fit leyah’s personality well. she was a bubbly and bright girl, despite all she’s been through.

leyah made it back to her dorm at around 8pm, as she had ran some errands on her way back. paige quickly asked to come over, and leyah of course said yes. she tidied up a bit, even though paige had been here before, it being a force of habit to clean up when there was company on the way. leyah quickly showered and turned on her playlist, did her skincare, and was in some comfy pajamas, waiting for paige to get here so they could watch a movie and order takeout. there was a knock at leyah’s door, and she knew it was paige. “hey princess, i went ahead and got the food on the way here, that’s why i took a minute.” there she was, her tall figure holding two pizza boxes, as leyah moved out of her way so she could come inside. “what we watching tonight ma’am?” paige says, taking the remote from leyah. “i’m not sure yet, i was waiting on you so we could pick together.” paige smirks at her. “oh so i’m special, is basically what you sayin’.” leyah hits her shoulder. “maybe a little.” they both laugh, and paige can’t help but stare at leyah. her beauty unmatched, skin glowing from her skincare regiment she put together, hair silky and put away in a claw clip, looking like an angel straight outta heaven.

it was true, paige was in love with leyah. but would it be hard to express this, given how her family acts towards her? they hung out everyday, learning each other, having the deepest conversations and connection, being on the same wavelength always. paige was willing to do anything for this girl.

“leyah.” paige suddenly said, staring intensely at the girl. leyah paused “the notebook”, the movie leyah they decided to put on. “paige.” she said smiling, her eyes sparkled as she looked at paige, making paige nervous to say anything. “i know it’s a lot, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but all i ask is you listen. im really, really in love with you. the way you carry yourself, your intelligence, just you being you, all of it.” leyah was stunned, feeling as if her dream came true. “you mean that?” leyah asks. “more than anything.” paige responds to the girl, a smile growing on leyah’s face. “good. because i’ve been in love with you since like-, forever bueckers.” paige can’t help but smile, knowing all her feelings for leyah were reciprocated, and she could soon call leyah hers.

“come kiss me princess.” leyah kisses paige, getting her summer fridays lip gloss on her, but paige doesn’t care. this was her dream, being able to have leyah all to herself. leyah is happy to have paige, and maybe things will get better for her. maybe.

HI BABIESSS! this is gonna be kind of drawn out, i just wanted to get part one out so you can have some idea of what’s going on. i hope you guys love this concept, and i’m thinking this is gonna be a good 4/5 parts, and i’ll try and update when i can!!! im def gonna throw some other fics at you in the meantime. LOVE YOUU

tags: @rosemariiaa, @patscorner, @ashortyluvsports, @ohbueckers, @juspeaks, @mrsarnold, @sierrale8ne

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #wbb #paige bueckers blog #wlw fiction #wlw blog #lgbtq

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runariya · 17 hours

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Crash Course in Love • 1

pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!female reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, Namjoon's a snack, smoking, brief mentions of drugs, OC and JK are petty af, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.2k

a/n: Part 1 is finally here 🎉 This fic is going to be my comfort story. It's relaxed for me but also quite new in the way I'm telling it and the length. I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I do writing it 💕

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 02

You’ve never been much of a risk taker. That’s just not who you are. You've always believed in playing it safe, thinking it’s better to be cautious than to end up regretting a choice. But living that way has meant you’ve missed out on the grand adventures that others your age fondly reminisce about. In fact, this cautious attitude is exactly what ended your last relationship.

Jungkook, your ex, was the definition of a thrill-seeker, the kind of adventurer you read about in stories. He thrived on excitement, and in the beginning, he managed to pull you into his world, convincing you to join him on his smaller adventures. You’d go camping with him or ride along on his motorcycle. It wasn’t much, but for you, it felt like a lot. You were doing things you’d never willingly do on your own. For him, though, it wasn’t enough. And you knew that. So, rather than holding him back any more than you already had with your shy, introverted, no-risks-please kind of persona, you ended things.

Did you regret it? Both yes and no. Yes, because letting go of the love of your life hurt more than anything. And no, because you knew it meant Jungkook could finally live the way he always wanted, without restraint. Watching him happy, embracing life to its fullest, was what you wanted for him. But when he decided to travel the world right after the breakup—the thing you two had dreamed of doing together—it stung deeply.

Jungkook had always been the rational one, even if he was emotional at times. He understood why you made the decision you did, and though it hurt him as much as it did you, there was nothing more to say. When your words were final, that was it.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop yourself from checking in on him, stalking his social media to see him living his best life. Each post only made you feel worse, insecure about the choices you’d made. So, in a moment of frustration, you decided to turn things around. You would live on the edge, too. You’d make "risky" your new middle name.

You started small. Baby steps. You poured your glass of water right up to the brim, nearly overflowing, and then picked it up to drink, knowing full well there was a 99% chance you’d spill it. But you didn’t care. You lived dangerously now, and besides, hydration is key.

Next, you let your phone battery drop to 1%, watching the screen dim, your palms sweaty with the urge to just plug it in. But you resisted, holding out until it died completely. Of course, you rushed to charge it afterward, but you’d never admit that part.

Things escalated. You started crossing the street when the walk sign only had five seconds left, sprinting to the other side like a madwoman, just barely making it before the light changed.

But what really pushed you over the edge was seeing Jungkook’s latest post: him, laughing and carefree, with an unfamiliar woman by his side.

That’s when you signed up for skydiving, bungee jumping, and even got your motorcycle license. It was fun—really fun. But doing it all alone felt hollow. Without someone to share those experiences with, the thrill didn’t last long.

As winter approached, you found yourself at your cousin Yoongi’s apartment, practically begging him to join you on your latest venture—a two-week stay at a ski hostel to learn snowboarding.

“I’m not doing shit,” he said flatly, not even looking up from the couch.

“Pretty, pretty please, Yoongs.” You threw your best puppy-dog eyes at him, hoping for a miracle. Kneeling on his carpet, which was nowhere near plush enough to make this comfortable, you added, “I’ll do almost anything you want if you come with me. Pleeeeeease.”

“Everything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost everything,” you clarified.

“Nah, I’m not going. Leave me alone.”

At that, you got up and threw yourself onto the couch beside him, clinging to his arm like a child. You put your face right up next to his, pouting dramatically. “Pwease, Yoongi oppa?”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” he said, surly grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, but only if you come with me! You won’t have to spend a cent. I’ve already paid for everything. Please, please, please.”

Yoongi sighed, and you could see him starting to waver, shooting you the occasional side-eye. “You’ll cover everything?”

“Everything,” you repeated, your eyes sparkling as you sensed victory.

“Fine.”

“Yesssss! I love you!” You kissed his cheek loudly, and he shoved you away with exaggerated disgust, though you knew he secretly enjoyed the affection. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4 a.m. Pack your bags!”

“4 a.m.?” he groaned.

“Yup! See you then! Bye!”

“I never agreed to go that early! Hey, no! Wait—”

But you were already halfway out the door, knowing that if you stuck around to hear any more complaints, he’d change his mind in an instant.

Day 0

"I'm sure it's here... somewhere," you mumble desperately, trying to navigate your small, old car through the frosty streets of this tiny town. It's not that you're a bad driver, but Tony—your car, named after Iron Man—is getting on in years. With no power steering, driving these treacherous roads is far from enjoyable. Especially with a grumpy, moody Yoongi sitting beside you, not letting you think for a minute.

"I doubt that. You've got us stranded somewhere civilisation hasn't even reached."

"Oh, come on, I know it's here. And it's not as desolate as you're making it out to be! We saw another car, like, 20 minutes ago."

But Yoongi's right. You're no longer sure if you're heading in the right direction. Your phone died hours ago, leaving you without navigation, and there's been no sign of life for miles. You're hoping for a miracle—or at least that your memory of the route isn’t completely off—because the petrol’s running low. You've turned off the heater in the hopes of making it to the hostel without having to walk, but that means you’re both freezing, and Yoongi’s seconds away from murdering you. Not that there’s much left of your blood to spill, as the cold has probably frozen it solid by now.

"I regret agreeing to this, you know?"

"You've told me that already. Like, four times in the last... what? Five minutes?" Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you can’t help but silently agree with Yoongi, calling yourself all sorts of names for coming up with yet another idea that’s entirely out of character for you.

"And I'll keep saying it until we arrive. If we ever do." Yoongi’s breath fogs up as he speaks, and when Tony stutters—a sign that it’s running out of petrol or sheer willpower—you feel like you’re about to cry.

The snow hasn’t let up, towering in piles along the narrow street that seems to climb uphill endlessly. At this point, you’re not only terrified of being stranded but of Tony giving out and sliding all the way back down. All you can do is pray. Pray that this journey turns out better than it started, because, frankly, there’s not much that could make it worse.

"Wait, can you see that building?" You lean forward, nearly pressing your nose against the steering wheel, squinting to get a better look at the dark, blurred shape in the distance. Your windscreen wipers are losing their battle against the snow and frost, getting stuck midway, making visibility even worse. "Can you read the sign?"

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible as you both roll down your windows simultaneously, peering outside—not because it isn’t cold enough already, but because there’s no way to keep driving with a snow-covered windscreen. The freezing air and snow immediately assault your face, biting at your cheeks, nose, and everything else. Your nose starts running mercilessly, your eyes sting with tears that freeze on your lashes, making it nearly impossible to keep them open.

Yoongi’s not faring much better. His short hair, while practical, leaves his ears exposed to the cold, turning them bright red in an instant. Yet somehow, he’s still able to swear profusely—though you’re not sure if it’s aimed at you or the weather.

"It says ‘dinosaur,’" he spits out into the biting air.

"Yes! It’s ‘Dionysos!’ We’re here! I told you we weren’t lost." You regret smiling immediately, as the cold stabs at your teeth, making you fear they’ll shatter into a million pieces.

"Just park the fucking car."

As you manage to crest the hill, a small but beautiful town comes into view, beginning with the quaint little hostel you booked. And after you parked Tony right in front or it, you somehow manage to force the car windows back up, the frozen mechanisms protesting all the way with deafening screams. But you don’t care. With aching, frost-bitten limbs, you leap out of the car, grab your bags from the boot, and bolt inside the hostel, Yoongi practically bulldozing past you to get in.

Your arrival is marked by a tiny bell hanging over the entrance. While it’s not Christmas yet, the decorations for the advent season are in full swing. But most importantly, it’s warm. So wonderfully warm that you can’t help but take a deep breath, letting the heat thaw you from the inside out, as you discreetly wipe your nose on your sleeve.

"Oh, hey!" A man behind the reception desk greets you immediately. His glasses sit low on his nose, and a ridiculous Christmas jumper stretches across his tall frame.

"Hi! I’ve booked a room for two weeks. It’s under the name..."

Before you can finish, the man interrupts, saying your name. You glance warily at Yoongi, who, as expected, doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s already parked himself by the fireplace, looking like a cat forced to endure the cold for far too long.

"You’re our only guest this season." The man laughs uncomfortably, clearly sensing your suspicion.

"Oh." That’s all you manage, throwing another helpless glance at Yoongi, who remains completely uninterested.

"Yeah, I can’t compete with all the amenities that new hotel chain offers," he adds with a shrug.

"Oh! That’s a shame." You step forward, genuinely sorry to hear about the plight of small businesses, struggling to survive against the corporate giants.

"It is what it is. But I’m glad to have you here." He flashes you a dimpled smile, his perfectly aligned teeth momentarily dazzling you. "My name’s Namjoon, by the way. I’ll be your landlord, caretaker, cook, and whatever else you need during your stay. Just let me know, and I’ll make it happen."

You shake his hand, startled by how cold your fingers still are. "Thank you so much, Namjoon! You already know my name, but this grump glued to your fireplace is Yoongi."

"Honeymoon?" Namjoon asks, with a teasing grin.

"Ew, no." Yoongi’s voice drips with disgust, and he doesn’t even flinch under your glare.

"What he means is, no, we’re cousins, spending the holidays together."

"Forced to spend—"

"Willingly."

"Threatened to—"

"Shut up, you agreed! Don’t make me look like an idiot."

"You nearly killed us."

"Oh, I did not! Stop lying."

Namjoon clears his throat, cutting off your bickering. You both turn to him sheepishly, like children being scolded by a parent. Your cheeks are burning, not just from the warmth but from the embarrassment of your argument.

"I’ll give you a tour of the place, then?" Namjoon offers, smiling warmly.

"Yes, please," you reply, eager to move past the awkwardness as soon as possible.

Yoongi struggles to tear himself away from the fireplace, but eventually, both of you follow Namjoon, who remains all smiles despite your rather unorthodox arrival.

“So, this is the main area. You can relax by the fireplace whenever you like—it’s lit all the time,” Namjoon says, glancing at Yoongi, who still seems transfixed by the flames. “To the left are the rooms. There are only three, and yours is at the far end. I took the liberty of choosing the honeymoon suite because, well… you know what I thought. But honestly, it’s the best room here, so it’s no big deal.”

You swallow the urge to ask if it’s possible to have two separate rooms, but you’re running low on cash. Since you’ve become Yoongi’s unofficial sponsor for this trip, two rooms are out of the question. You just hope Yoongi has somehow outgrown his relentless snoring from childhood because, God forbid, you’ll be at your wit’s end if he ruins your sleep for two whole weeks.

“And to the right is my private room and the dining area. Any allergies I should know about?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” you and Yoongi reply in unison, sounding like textbook tourists. Not that you aren’t, but you’d rather it wasn’t so obvious.

“That’s good to hear. These days, everyone seems to have some kind of allergy or gut problem. I really don’t want to have to drive you to the hospital; it’s quite a distance from here…”

Namjoon stops mid-sentence, realising he’s rambling. You’re still standing there, bags in hand, coats on, now sweating from the warmth. You can only hope your body doesn’t rebel from the extreme change in temperature.

“This way, please,” Namjoon says, leading you towards your room. He swings the door open ceremoniously with an old-fashioned key in hand, and you and Yoongi follow, your heavy boots and coats disrupting the otherwise serene, festive atmosphere.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmurs, and it’s truly a sight that will stay with you forever.

It isn’t the room itself that takes your breath away, but the view. The wall facing the mountains is made entirely of glass, offering an uninterrupted view of the snow-covered slopes from peak to base. The storm has lessened without you noticing, revealing thick, heavy snowflakes gently falling, while the sun breaks through the grey clouds that shadowed your entire journey.

You watch as skiers and snowboarders carve their way down the mountainside, zigzagging effortlessly through the untouched snow. At the foot of the mountain, families are building snowmen and riding sleighs, laughter and joy visible even from this distance. It’s in moments like these, during those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, that your thoughts drift back to Jungkook. You find yourself wishing that things had turned out differently, that he could be here to share this with you.

You shouldn’t feel sad about it. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him, especially when he’s clearly moved on. Your relationship feels as distant and forgotten as a book written centuries ago—once beautiful, overflowing with fairytales too good to be true, but now irrelevant, no longer suited to withstand the test of time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present, and for that, you’re grateful. Yoongi wouldn’t understand your feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t indulge your nostalgia over a past relationship—especially because it was your first and last.

“It is. Thank you for giving us this room, Namjoon. It’s more than I ever expected.”

Yoongi tosses his bag onto the floor by the bed, shrugs off his coat and shoes, and immediately flops onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the view.

“No worries, really. There’s a phone and a card with my number on it by the nightstand. If you need anything, come to reception. If I’m not there, knock on my door—I’m happy to help.”

Namjoon’s kindness and humility stir something in you. He’s incredibly good-looking, tall, and there’s something about his calm and friendly manner that makes you feel at ease. As he smiles at you, his dimples showing, you wonder if perhaps you might let yourself indulge in him a little—let him be the warmth you’ve been missing.

But for now, you’ll settle in. Let the next two weeks pass without forcing anything. You want to be swept up in whatever comes your way.

“I’m really happy I booked with you, Namjoon. You’ve been so kind, and this room is perfect. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.”

Your eyes linger on his for a moment longer than you’d admit was necessary, and you seize the opportunity to ask him a few more questions just to keep looking at him.

“So, I booked a snowboarding course through you. That starts tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, the instructor’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too but won’t arrive until right before your lesson. You booked the classes for a full week, correct?”

“Yeah, I thought a week would be enough, and we’ll practice on our own after that.”

“That should work well. He’s great at what he does and an excellent teacher. But if you need more help, he’ll still be around for the rest of your stay.”

“That’s good.” You’re only half-listening. Namjoon’s dimples and kind eyes are distracting you too much to focus on his words.

“Oh, before I forget—anything in town worth seeing? I’d love to stroll around today since we’ve got no schedule.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Yoongi mutters, his voice dripping with boredom, but neither you nor Namjoon pay him any attention.

“Hm, there’s not a lot, but you should visit ‘Jimin’s Pastries.’ He supplies my bread, and his pastries and coffee are to die for.”

“That sounds perfect. I think I’ll check it out straight away—I’m starving,” you say with a bashful laugh. “You coming?” You ask Yoongi coldly, knowing the answer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. So, how do I get there?” Immediately you turn back to Namjoon.

“I could show you?”

There’s a slight hesitance in Namjoon’s offer, but it only makes him more endearing. You smile genuinely, feeling a little more charmed than you’d like to admit. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great, let’s go then.” His easy-going nature doesn’t falter, even when Yoongi calls after you, “Bring me back some food!”

There’s no need to answer; the door to the room has already closed behind you, leaving Yoongi behind as well.

“I’ll just need to fetch my coat real quick.”

You follow Namjoon to the reception, your eyes drawn to the way his hips move with each step, the subtle flexing right in front of you. It’s not as if you objectify every attractive man you meet, but Namjoon clearly takes care of himself, and there’s nothing you can really do. After all, you’re no saint, and Namjoon is definitely one of those reasons you’ll never take a vow of celibacy.

He doesn’t take long to return, emerging from his room with a rather thin coat hugging his body, making you feel a little ridiculous in your thick down jacket. But there’s no way you’re changing now.

Ever the gentleman, Namjoon holds the hostel door open for you with a small smile, and you thank him silently as the bell above the door chimes again softly. You don’t let your thoughts drift too far—don’t let them wander back to that time when Jungkook told you he always thought he’d meet his soulmate when he heard a bell the first time he saw them.

Because you’re sure that’s just folklore, just a whimsical story, something for entertainment. And even though Namjoon seems like someone nice you could spend time with, the fanciful idea that he might be your soulmate because of a little bell is absurd.

Outside, the cold hasn’t let up one bit, though the storm and heavy snowflakes have finally ceased. But this time, you welcome the chill, grateful for the contrast to the stifling heat of the hostel and the layers you’re bundled in.

You walk side by side, heading deeper into the small town, and now that the air is clearer, you notice fairy lights strung across the street, bare trees decorated with quaint Christmas ornaments, and every house and shop adorned for the season.

“So, how long have you been running the hostel?” you ask, unwilling and not comfortable nor confident enough to let the silence stretch for too long, opting for small talk that feels so much more safer.

“It’s been a few years now. I took over when my father couldn’t run it anymore.”

“That’s a responsible thing to do. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but Namjoon’s hair isn’t black at all. Now, as the sunlight reflects off his soft-looking strands, you realise it’s a dark brown, making him look much younger.

“He is.” Namjoon smiles bashfully, glancing down briefly as though to hide a slight blush. “I just hope I can keep things going as well as he did.”

“I’m sure you will. The place is lovely.”

“Thanks. But what’s really lovely is Jimin’s, which is right here.”

Namjoon gestures towards a small shop you hadn’t noticed before, stopping just a short walk from the hostel. You realise now that everything in this tiny town is within easy reach, which you find very convenient.

And he’s right, ‘Jimin’s Pastries’ looks jut as charming as the hostel. The building is old but beautifully restored, its large windows inviting you in without detracting from its historic charm, as though it’s withstood the test of time. The large windows must be new, but you suspect the struts are original, as is the interior you can spot from outside, and it makes you marvel at it instantly.

Namjoon leads the way inside, once again opening the door for you to step through first. Again, a soft chime rings above the door, and the first thing you see is a man behind the counter, slightly shorter than Namjoon, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, his eyes crinkling into crescents, making him look oh-so-youthful and impossibly welcoming.

“Hey, hyung! Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” the man asks brightly, his voice as musical as a singer’s.

“This is ___, she’s my guest for the next two weeks. ___, this is Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please, take a seat, make yourself at home! Namjoon, the usual?”

“Yeah, and some of your magic pastries. We’re starving, right?” Namjoon offers you a seat after taking your heavy coat, which you accept with a shy smile, feeling unaccustomed to such attentiveness.

“Yes, that sounds great. Thank you.”

“And what would you like to drink, ___?”

You squint up at the menu hanging above the counter while Namjoon takes his seat across from you after putting your coats on a rack near the entrance, but Jimin doesn’t give you much time to decide.

“Oh wait, I’ll bring you my special.”

With that, he sets to work, moving quickly around like a busy bee, and you take the opportunity to absorb and soak in the cosy, homey atmosphere.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Namjoon whispers over the sound of coffee beans being ground, leaning in slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

“It is. Thank you for showing me this place. I can’t wait to try everything—it all looks so delicious.”

The display of cakes and sweets is overwhelming, filled to the brim. The macarons, in particular, seem to call out to you, their bright colours practically begging to be tasted, looking almost too perfect to be real, knowing that you have to try them.

“I hope you like it as much as I do, or else I won’t know what to serve you for breakfast.”

You can’t help but giggle with Namjoon, his demeanour so warm and charming it’s impossible not to feel at ease.

“Here you go!” Jimin sings as he walks over with a tray nearly overflowing with pastries, balancing so many that even if you hadn’t eaten in days, you’re sure that there would still be leftovers. But you you’re not about to complain, secretly pleased you’ll get to taste almost everything on offer.

“The usual for Mister NJ, and here’s yours, beautiful,” Jimin winks cheekily, handing you a cup of coffee off the tray. You try to suppress the shy blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s really been a while since anyone’s flirted with you like this, and even if it’s maybe just playful, it’s not unwelcome, but simply unexpected.

“Thank you.”

You’re a bit surprised when Jimin pulls up a chair to sit between you and Namjoon, but thinking about it, it makes sense. There are no other customers at the moment, shop being completely empty except for you three, and it’s clear he’s close friends with Namjoon. Besides, you don’t mind; in fact, it’s comforting to be making these friendly connections, especially if you’re going to be here for two whole weeks. Maybe if these two weeks go well, you could see yourself coming back here one day.

Sensing the expectant looks from both men, their eyes flicking between your face and the cup of coffee in your hands, you finally take a sip—and are immediately thrown back to memories of Jungkook. The momentary peace you’d found is shattered as the familiar taste hits you. The coffee is good, wonderful even, just as perfect as you expected from Jimin’s first impression, but it tastes exactly like how Jungkook used to make it for you, though serving it in a normal cup seems rather…interesting now.

But Once, you loved the aftertaste of sweet iced Americano, loved the aftertaste after Jungkook had put his lips on yours. But now you’re alone. Now, you’re without him, and there’s nothing you can do but swallow it down, hoping your expression doesn’t give you away—hoping they don’t see how broken you really are and that you’re lying. Lying that you’re not stuck in an all time low for years now, lying that you’re not trying to fix your pride since.

“Wow, it tastes amazing!”

But both men jut blink at you now, and it’s only then that you realise your hands are trembling slightly, and that the smile you’ve tried so hard to put on doesn’t feel as genuine as you’d hoped.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s uneasy in an instant, his brow creasing. “Don’t you like it? Would you prefer something else?”

They both look rather too concerned for their own goods now. Jimin, too, tries to take the cup from your hands, but you hold it closer to you. It’s kind of sweet how strangers seem so empathetic towards you, and it somehow soothes the ache in your chest, even if it’s only a little, but not quite enough to make you forget.

“No! It’s perfect. I swear. It’s just that it reminds me of someone who’s no longer in my life.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Namjoon stretches out his hand, resting it gently on your lower arm with sad eyes.

“No! Oh gosh, no, it’s my ex. He’s alive, we just broke up.”

While Namjoon’s face falls into an embarrassed, crooked smile, taking his hand away, Jimin’s lights up like the fairy lights outside in the dawn. He wastes no time sliding closer to you, his wooden chair squeaking lightly on the tiled floor.

“Oh, tell me about it. Was it recent?”

You want to say yes, because even though it’s been a while since the split, it still feels like it was just hours ago. But at the same time, the time spent apart from Jungkook feels like an eternity, too unbearable to survive, really.

“Uhm, no, it’s been years, actually.”

And that shifts the whole room into chaos. Jimin doesn’t miss a beat before suggesting, “You just need to get properly dicked down, one good time.”

Namjoon looks even more embarrassed, trying in vain to get Jimin to shut up, while you sit there watching them argue about whether or not Jimin’s suggestion is the right way to help you forget your ‘scruffy ex’—his words, not yours or Namjoon’s.

“Actually, I’m not really interested in finding someone new at the moment.”

“See! I told you! Just let her be!” Namjoon leans back in his chair with a proud, triumphant smile on his face, crossing his arms as if he’s known you for years, which, obviously, he doesn’t. His glasses slide down his nose, making him look less convincing than he should.

“Oh, shut up, she just doesn’t know it yet. Maybe we could set her up with C. I think they’d look cute together.”

“I don’t know, man, you’re kind of right, but he’s not looking for anyone either.”

“That’s perfect! Wait, tell me something about yourself, I need to check if you’d vibe with him.” Jimin again leans in close, his elbows resting on the table between you, hands framing his chiseled jawline as he looks at you with sparkling, excited eyes.

You’re not sure what’s just happened, or who this ‘C’ is. And especially, you’re unsure how to answer the request to ‘tell them something about yourself’. Do you tell them about the introverted self you once were or maybe still are deep down? Your default so to say? Or do you describe the ‘new’, in your opinion uncomfortable self you’re desperately trying to become? At this point, you’re not even sure who you are, and the realisation exhausts you more than the drive here did.

“I…hm…I’m more the type of person who’s calm and doesn’t like a lot of adventures or risky things. So, I don’t think there’s really anyone out there who could handle that.” Yeah, great way to spark someone’s interest—talking down on yourself should definitely be added to your list of traits.

“Oh, that’s perfect. C’s been out of his mind for years. He definitely needs someone to balance him out. The dude’s mental.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, eyes flickering between Namjoon and Jimin. If he’s mental, why would Jimin want you to get involved with him? You’ve got enough of your own problems; babysitting a potential partner is the last thing you want to do.

“Oh no, he’s not mental mental, just a bit too reckless. He’s searching for something no one really understands. I reckon he’s just looking for love, or to be loved, but he’s obviously not finding it.”

“Oh... I see…” You nod vaguely, trying to piece together the information being thrown at you without getting whiplash. “But, uh, who is C, exactly?”

“He’s your snowboard instructor, actually,” Namjoon chimes in. From the look on his face, he’s completely on board with Jimin’s idea as well.

“And his name is C?”

“We call him that. It’s short for BSC, which is short for Babystarcandy.” Jimin beams at you, as if this explanation makes perfect sense.

“I reckon that’s not his actual name?” You deadpan.

“Gosh, no! That would be ridiculous.” Jimin waves his hands exaggeratedly while Namjoon chuckles. “His actual name is—”

The loud ringtone of Namjoon’s phone makes all three of you jump, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” blasting from his coat.

“Sorry, I’ll just get that.” Namjoon stumbles off his chair, tripping over his own feet. He grabs his coat at the last moment, pulling it to the floor with him as the hook breaks under the weight.

“Not again,” Jimin sighs, rubbing his eyes with both hands as he sinks further into his chair. “I swear to God, one day—”

“Why am I calling myself?” Namjoon wonders aloud before quickly answering, “Hello?”

You can’t hear the other side of the conversation from across the room, but Namjoon doesn’t seem confused for long. He responds joyfully, “Of course. We’re heading back now... sure... bye.”

“You’re going to pay for that repair,” Jimin mutters as soon as Namjoon hangs up and gets to his feet, tucking his phone into his trousers and pulling on his coat.

“Of course, I always do. That was Yoongi, by the way. He’s hungry and wants us to bring him food. Sooo, could you pack up all the pastries?”

“Yes, of course!” Jimin jumps up immediately, gathering everything together while you watch longingly as he takes the macarons too. But you’re not too sad—you’ll just gobble them as soon as you’re back in your room.

You stand, finishing your coffee in one go, knowing that even though you can taste the caffeine from how strong it is, it won’t do much once your stomach’s full. You’re simply too knackered after today to stay awake longer than necessary.

“Yoongi called you from your hostel phone?”

“Yeah, he didn’t know another way.”

“I can’t with him; he’s so shameless sometimes.” Namjoon helps you into your coat, a gesture you’d like to get used to again—the simple act is just too sweet not to fall in love with.

“Ah, I don’t mind. I like people like him; they’re always honest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Here come the treats!” Jimin sings as he swings open the door to the back room. The pastries are now securely packed in a paper bag, which he hands to you. “Thanks for coming by, and make sure to come tomorrow too. We’re not done talking, especially after you meet C in person!”

You can’t help but laugh with them both. It’s refreshing to feel joy and fun around you without having to put yourself at risk with some nonsense activity. But if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have met them if it weren’t for that very activity.

“Thanks, Jimin. I appreciate it. And we’ll see if I’m still alive after tomorrow.”

“You will be—C will take good care of you,” Jimin winks again, and with that, the door chime sounds as Namjoon opens it for you. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” you and Namjoon say in unison, stepping into the cold night as the wind bites at your face again. The fairy lights now illuminate the whole street, ornaments reflecting their red and gold hues, looking like something straight out of a film. Children are still up, playing in the snow and running around, while couples stroll along the pavement.

It’s a scene you wish you could see every day, and as you make your way back to the hostel with Namjoon by your side, you can’t help but glance up at him now and then as he talks about the small details of the town’s history, C and Jungkook momentarily forgotten.

Day 1

You regret bringing Yoongi with you. So much so, you want to cry and never stop.

It’s not like he’s bad company—not all the time, anyway—but sharing a room with him puts everything into perspective. His snoring hasn’t lessened one bit since childhood; in fact, you’re pretty sure it’s gotten worse. There’s no way you’ll get an ounce of rest if you keep sleeping in the same room, so you decide to ask Namjoon at breakfast if there’s any chance you can switch to the other spare room.

Lying awake all night until Yoongi got up at ass o’clock, leaving the room with his laptop and other gear, had you contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made, including the ones yet to come. Isn’t it ridiculous what you’ve got yourself into again? Sure, you’re kind of sporty, but when it comes to risky sports like snowboarding, you’d much rather watch others do it than try it yourself but here you are.

You’re sure if Jungkook had seen the way you’ve been living these past few years, he’d laugh. Not that he’d ridicule you—he’s not that type—but you’re certain the clown you’ve become would disgust him as much as it disgusts you.

You’re not sure if it’s healthy to still be so hung up on your ex, or if it’s just normal when you’ve lost the love of your life. Normal in the sense that every thought circles back to him, like you’ve taken the fall for some drug called Jeon Jungkook.

You’ll probably have to search the internet for a rehab clinic that specialises in self-inflicted heartbreak because after this adventure, there’s no way you’re doing anything like this again. Enough is enough. Especially when there’s possibly, just maybe, a potential partner—someone cozy and inviting, like Namjoon—who might actually like you for who you really are.

It’s still early, but you need to get up and grab some breakfast, knowing today’s course will be physically draining if you attempt it on an empty stomach. You’re certain that dragging Yoongi out will take extra time you don’t have to spare. The thought of making a bad first impression on C terrifies you, not only because he’s a stranger, but because, as Namjoon said, he’s coming here just for you.

Groaning, you force yourself out of bed. The room has cooled slightly overnight, which wasn’t a problem under the thick duvet, but now you can’t seem to handle the cold as well as you usually do. Rushing into the en-suite, you’re first greeted by the warmth of the heated floor, and then by the horrifying sight of your reflection.

“Please, don’t,” you plead, as if your reflection could magically change the image of your swollen face, a result of the ridiculous amount of pastries you munched last night. Your dark circles look more like war paint than the result of a restless night—a far cry from a cute quirk.

There’s no point in using much makeup, not when you’re going to be snowboarding—or rather learning how to—all day, so you settle for a bit of concealer. It takes a lot of mental pep talk to leave the blush behind, knowing the cold will soon give you rosy cheeks and a red nose the second you step outside the hostel.

Getting dressed is a bit easier; you throw on some thermal black gear, braid your hair into two sections, and leave the room in search of either Namjoon or Yoongi.

It’s no surprise to find Yoongi by the fireplace again, empty plate and coffee nearby, but seeing Namjoon beside him—Yoongi clicking away on his laptop while Namjoon raps into a microphone—leaves you speechless. There’s a whole side of Namjoon you hadn’t seen before. Sure, you only met him 12 hours ago, but you never would’ve imagined, in a million years, hearing him angrily spitting line after line. And despite his usual softness, this harshness leaves you nearly gasping for air.

What are you supposed to do? You’ve always had a weak spot for bad boys, men who exude confidence. And Namjoon is definitely giving off that vibe right now.

“Oh baby, what’s your name?”

The whimper that escapes your mouth is so embarrassing, especially when both men look up at you—Namjoon halting mid-rap—that you can’t, for the life of you, figure out what’s wrong with you. Are you really this pathetic, or was Jimin right all along? Maybe you just need a good shag to recalibrate your brain to normal. It’s been years, and considering the state you’re in now, something’s surely got to change.

You muster whatever dignity you have left and greet them as casually as possible, “Good morning.”

Yoongi, ever the ray of sunshine, doesn’t bother turning away from his laptop, clicking away as if you’re just a fly that’s wandered in. But Namjoon? He meets your eyes with a smile that could rival the dawn itself.

“Morning! Ready for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

You’re smitten, and there’s no hiding it as he leads you to the dining area. A table is already set, and you recognise Jimin’s bread in an instant. Knowing how hungry you are after your late-night binge, you waste no time sitting down, your eyes glued to the treats and toppings on offer.

“Fancy a coffee?”

“Black would be perfect!”

“Not a sweet tooth?” Namjoon jokes, pouring you a cup from the thermos flask, the rich aroma battling with the scent of the food.

“Not in the morning.” You smile up at him.

“Probably because you’re sweet enough straight out of bed.”

His wink nearly makes you faint, and it’s clear that while Namjoon’s good with his tongue when rapping, he’s also very smooth with it. You wonder if…

“I guess so,” you mumble, too flustered to look him in the eye now.

He chuckles quietly and sits opposite you, not bothering to eat himself.

“Not hungry?” you ask, feeling a bit more composed as you distract yourself by preparing your breakfast.

“Nope, I just ate. Just wanted to keep you company.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks. I really hate eating alone, though I do it almost every meal. So, I appreciate it.”

“No worries, I’m happy to keep you company.”

“So, you rap?”

A lazy smirk forms on Namjoon’s face, his head tilted up slightly, and you know full well he’s aware of what he did to your hormones minutes ago. He only hums in confirmation.

Cocky. But you like it, and it suits him. You just hope he’s not too confident—that would be a massive turnoff.

“Side hustle or hobby?”

“Hobby, but Yoongi’s been putting a bee in my bonnet, to be honest.”

“He’s persistent when it comes to talent.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m talented, but he’s a dope producer. I didn’t recognise him at first, but man, I’m lucky to have him here. A literal world star staying in my hostel. I’m gonna have to make a wall of fame or something.”

You snort at that because as ridiculous as it sounds seeing Yoongi on a ‘wall of fame’, Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi is world-famous, though he prefers to keep a low profile, which you admire. Well, most of the time. Him being this tight with the expenses of the trip leaves a bit of a sour taste in your mouth—not caused by the coffee, that’s for sure.

“Are you famous too, by any chance?”

You snort again, “You wish.”

“Shame.”

“Tell me about it. Even though I’m the broke one, I’m still the one sugar-mommying him,” you mumble through your bites, not wanting to waste time without filling your stomach.

Namjoon’s laugh lights up the morning even further, and you’re all too glad you booked this hostel. It would’ve been miserable spending your time alone while Yoongi’s off doing his own thing every chance he gets.

“Any chance of getting a separate room?”

“Why?”

“I can’t spend another night lying awake because of Yoongi’s snoring.”

You look at each other, and suddenly the inconvenience doesn’t seem as bad as it did all night. Namjoon’s laugh is going to be your secret weak spot from now on.

“Sure, I’ll just move your luggage if you haven’t unpacked yet.”

“That’d be great. Thanks so much.”

“No worries.” Namjoon watches you for a bit while you eat, like it’s the most fascinating thing happening to him.

You don’t mind at all—it’s not awkward—but you can tell you’re running out of time by how slowly you’re eating.

“When do we have to leave? Is C here already?”

“Yeah, he got here a few hours ago but went straight to the slopes. You’ve got a few more minutes. I’ve sorted out some gear for you at Hope’s. He’ll give you everything you need for the week.”

It’s a relief knowing Namjoon has thought of everything, especially since you’re not fond of surprises or poorly planned outings.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“It’s my job, ___.” He winks at you again, and if you weren’t so focused on shovelling food down, you’d probably melt into your seat.

“All done,” you mumble through your last bite, crumbs shamelessly falling as you stand up.

“Perfect timing. I told Yoongi how to get to Hope’s; it’s not far.”

Not wanting to thank him yet again like a broken record, you just nod and follow him to the main room, where Yoongi’s already by the door, waiting. You’re not sure why he’s so eager when he didn’t even want to come in the first place, but you don’t dwell on it as you say goodbye to Namjoon and head out, Yoongi handing you your coat.

The walk to Hope’s? You’re not really sure despite Namjoon mentioning the name twice, but to the guy who runs the ski and snowboard equipment hire shop indeed isn’t far.

As soon as you step into his shop, you’re hit with the sight of all kinds of winter sports gear and old-school rap blaring at full volume—likely coming from some speakers behind the counter where the seller greets you.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Hey, we’re guests of Namjoon and—”

“___ and Yoongi! Of course, Namjoon’s already told me! I’m Hoseok!”

“Weird.”

“Shut up,” you hiss at Yoongi. “That’s perfect. It’s our first time, and there’s no way we’d know what we need.”

“I’ve got you. Just follow me, I’ll start by getting the right boots for you.”

“Thanks.”

There are so many boots in all sorts of colours and sizes that you’re not sure if they’re all for hire or if some are for sale, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way you’re going snowboarding again after these two weeks, so you’d gladly pick whatever’s the comfiest.

Yoongi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share that thought, picking out the most expensive-looking boots. Truth be told, they do look the fanciest, and if you were as loaded as him, you’d go wild too. It’s with a jolt that you remember you’re the one paying for all this, and there’s no way you could afford the ones Yoongi’s holding up to inspect.

“Put them back,” you hiss, slapping his hand, scolding him for being so careless with your expenses.

“Ouch, that’s rude.”

“I’m not paying for them. Put them back before you damage them and I end up bankrupt.”

“So, what sizes do you usually wear?” Hoseok interrupts, completely unfazed by your bickering.

“Seven and a half.”

“Three and a half.”

“Dwarf.”

“Bigfoot.”

“I’ll bring you one size up,” Hoseok says with a smile. “Any particular colour you fancy?”

“Purple.”

“Black.”

“Got it, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you both at the rack, disappearing behind a curtain into the back room.

“Could you stop embarrassing me, please?”

“I didn’t do shit, ___. Stop whining.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Need I remind you I’m doing you a favour here? Where’s the respect?”

“Sorry, oppa,” you bat your eyelashes at him mockingly.

“Say that again and I’m leaving.”

“How? Tony’s petrol’s empty. You’re going to walk home?”

“Bet.”

Just as you roll your eyes, Hoseok returns with two shoeboxes and two helmets, placing them down on a bench.

“I’ve brought you brand new ones. There weren’t many in your sizes I’d be comfortable renting out.”

Yoongi and you sit on opposite sides of the boxes while Hoseok removes the packaging from the new boots. Yours are purple, but just the laces and stitching—the rest is black, which gives them a more grown-up look compared to kids’ shoes. You fall in love with them instantly and eagerly grab one to put it on. But no luck.

Even though they’re fully open, you can’t seem to get your foot inside, despite your efforts. You stomp on the ground, pulling at the boot with both hands, but it’s no use. Yoongi, of course, isn’t struggling at all—typical, he’s good at everything.

“Here, let me help,” Hoseok kneels in front of you, securing your calf and the boot, angling the heel to the floor. “Now stand up and push your foot in.”

You do as he says, and with a soft, satisfying ‘plop’, your foot slides in without a hitch. “Thanks! That was easy!”

You repeat the process with the other boot, tightening the laces and clasps, then stand to take a few steps. You stumble slightly, not used to the weight and bulk of the boots, but soon get the hang of it.

“They need to fit quite snugly. When you’re fully geared up, make sure to fasten them as tight as possible. Otherwise, you’ll go flying, and your board will stay on the snow.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. Yeah, sure.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like the idea or the mental image of being catapulted out of your boots while your snowboard says c’est la vie.

To your amazement, the helmets Hoseok picked for you and Yoongi fit perfectly as well.

“If you’re feeling good, let’s get you sorted with snowsuits, yeah?”

You nod and attempt to follow Hoseok, but Yoongi pulls you back down onto the bench, your ass hitting the hard surface with a rather painful thud.

“Take them off, idiot. How are you going to get a suit on with those still on?”

Ugh… it’s obvious, really, but you’re too stressed and anxious about snowboarding to function properly. It’s in moments like this that you start spiralling, regretting your decision all over again. You’re not sure what gave your thoughts away, but Yoongi seems to notice the shift in your mood, as he rests a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here. Don’t stress.”

You lock eyes with him, and you can see a bit of regret there. It’s normal for you two to bicker and take the piss out of each other, but it’s also normal for you both to care. You love each other, like cousins do, and part of you regrets ever thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing him on this trip. Because honestly, there’s no one else in your life right now you’d rather do this with.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s all good. You’ve got this, okay?”

You just nod, loosening the clasps and laces to take the boots off and helmet, then walk in your socks over to where Hoseok is rummaging through racks of snowsuits.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to get your right sizes and for Yoongi to disappear into the changing room first. You’re not really sure how to start a conversation with him, but thankfully you’re saved by the shop’s phone ringing.

“Excuse me,” Hoseok smiles politely, walking towards the counter where the phone is obviously placed.

“Hope’s, how can I help you?”

You hold the snowboard jacket in front of your chest, admiring its intricate design in the mirror hanging in front of you, trying not to obviously listen in on the call.

“Jaykaaaaay.”

You freeze, the nickname ringing all sorts of alarm bells in your head. There’s no way it’s Jungkook; like, literally, there might be a million other people with that nickname. You need to calm down somehow, because if your anxiety rises any further than it already has, you’re sure you’re going to die from heart failure.

Hoseok’s repeated and drawn-out calling of this nickname doesn’t help in the slightest, and you reckon that if he repeats it one more time, you’d punch him in the face, even though you’re so not the type to be violent. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Thankfully, the cheerful shouts stop, and Hoseok listens in until he locks eyes with you, a smile forming. You try to figure out if all the people in this town have such perfect teeth, if there’s a dentist who works magic, or if everyone just has perfect high-end genetics you could only dream of.

“Yeah, they’re here at the moment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What do Yoongi and you have to do with this phone call?

“Just a few more minutes. I’ll send them to the beginners’ hill when we’re finished, yeah?”

Okay, hold up—it must be the instructor on the other line, and Namjoon and Jimin called him C, but Hoseok just called him Jaykay, which has nothing to do with C nor BSC. Was it even BSC? Anyway. There’s a very real chance that it’s definitely not Jungkook, because, shame on you, you’ve seen him post a picture from Hawaii last night on socials, which, obviously, isn’t here.

You don’t feel the need to ask Hoseok who it was or what’s going on with these multiple nicknames. For all you care, it could be a 50-year-old, and you’re stressing yourself out for nothing.

Hoseok comes to your side after he’s hung up, and Yoongi emerges at this moment too, though he’s not modelling his snowboard suit but has it draped over his arm.

“Fits,” is all Yoongi says, nodding once in Hoseok’s direction.

“Perfect, now it’s your turn.” Hoseok gestures for you to the changing room, and you don’t waste any more time. The faster you’re out of here, the faster this day is over, and that’s all you want as the snowboarding course gets closer.

“Thanks,” you mumble, searching for Yoongi’s eyes for just a little more reassurance, but he’s already too busy having a normal and civil conversation with Hoseok, something you wish he’d do more often with you.

There’s not much room in the changing room, especially when the snowboard trousers are this wide and baggy, so you fall against the walls multiple times, trying not to faceplant onto the floor.

“You good?” Hoseok’s voice is heard from outside, and it’s so unbelievably embarrassing realising that Yoongi had no struggle trying the clothes on because there wasn’t a sound coming from him. Not because the walls are thick or soundproof—no, because he’s simply doing well, like every human being should.

“Yeah!” you call, hoping that the high-pitched tone of your voice doesn’t give you away. But who are you kidding? There’s the low but unmistakable giggle and some mumbled words from Yoongi, followed by Hoseok’s shrill laughter.

You’re going to kill Yoongi, going to push him down the hill and watch him become a snowball and crash into the abyss of a glacier. Stupid moron—you should have left him at home and come alone, and the sharp tug of your jacket’s zipper punctuates your resentment perfectly.

The anger fades as fast as it came, because you look like the coolest professional snowboarder on earth. You twist and turn, make a bum-check, but realise there’s not much to see in these oversized clothes. Still, you feel good in them, especially as your body heat multiplies, which is the best sign that you’ll survive all day in the snow.

Knowing you’ll have to leave as soon as you’re finished, you take the jacket off and rip the price tag away. After undoing the trousers and doing the same, you don’t care if the gear is expensive. Even if so, you’d still use it for sledging or in case of a blizzard or something. You’re sure you’ll get creative with its use.

Sipping everything back up, you collect your down jacket and step out of the changing room, not as elegantly as usual, but more with a rustle and a slight swaying due to the fabric. You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your lips, Yoongi and Hoseok looking equal parts amused and approving of your appearance. You’re all going to get a good laugh out of it when you’re wearing the snowboard boots as well, and that’s all you need right now—humour to suppress the anxiety.

Two snowboards are already lined up. Hoseok helps you into the boots again, while Yoongi masters dressing himself like a real grown-up.

“C’s going to adjust the boot holders on the snowboards for you, so you can just take them with you as they are. They fit your height. And you can leave your shoes and jackets here and collect them whenever you’re finished for the day.”

“That’d be great.”

“Thanks, Jwe-Hope.”

You side-eye Yoongi. Why’s he getting soft with Hoseok? And why does he give him yet another nickname, as if the man doesn’t already have enough?

“No prob, Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok says in an exaggeratedly playful tone, while Yoongi dabs him goodbye.

You’re fascinated by how Hoseok managed to melt the ‘Ice King’s’ heart in the few minutes you were away, and it’s even more fascinating how Yoongi just heads for the door without you even having paid yet.

“Yo, wait! I need to pay!”

“Yep, I’m outside having a smoke.”

There’s nothing you can do as Yoongi leaves without even turning back, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I’d like to pay, please.”

Hoseok nods with a smile and you follow him to the register. He scans one tag after the other, the price skyrocketing while your bank account starts to scream in the background.

“That’ll be 899 dollars,” he beams.

Your smile is wobbly, as is your hand as you hand over your credit card, knowing that this trip will be more expensive than you ever thought.

“Thanks again, Hoseok.”

“No problem, and please call me Hope.”

“Sure, Hope,” you say, securing your credit card in the inner pocket of your jacket. “Have a nice day, and see you later.”

“See ya, bye!” He waves enthusiastically as you head for the door, interrupting Eminem’s Godzilla with your stomping and rattling. How ironic.

Yoongi’s leaning against the shop’s wall as you step outside, just about to take a drag of his cigarette as he notices you glaring at him. Snatching the cigarette from his lips, you take a drag yourself.

“Thought you quit.”

“Give me a break, I need to calm my nerves.”

“Reckon some coke would be better, you’d feel invincible and wouldn’t be scared shitless.”

“Reckon you could just shut up, yeah?”

He just laughs as you give him his cigarette back and make your way to where you assume the slope is.

“This way.”

You stop in your tracks, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. You don’t want to go off at him again; you’ll need every ounce of energy, and wasting it by bickering isn’t the way to go.

Reluctantly, with the snowboard and helmet awkwardly clasped in your hands, you manage to follow Yoongi, though walking on asphalt is rather uncomfortable in these boots, though the walk might be again very short.

True to that, arriving in a few minutes at the beginner’s hill is a bit sobering. The hill’s neither high nor steep, even kids with sledges would probably call it boring, but you don’t mind one bit. Honestly, it’s perfect for you. No real chance of getting hurt and ending up like one of those cute little animals from Happy Tree Friends.

Off to the side, there’s the lift access and the main slopes, with skiers and snowboarders already queuing up for their first or maybe their nth lift of the day.

One snowboarder shooting down the steepest hill, which just so happens to be the only one of its kind, catches your attention. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and the way he moves is hypnotic. You can’t help but think he must be a pro, maybe even an Olympian.

“Look! He’s so good.” You point him out to Yoongi, who shifts from looking bored to mildly impressed.

“Why’s he coming our way, though?”

“No way.”

But it’s true. He’s definitely your instructor. And not some fifty-year-old guy, either. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t quite swallow, especially because this guy’s height seems just a little too familiar… maybe too much like Jungkook’s. As far as you remember, at least.

You try to reason with yourself. Tell yourself there’s no way this is happening, because he’s got to be in Hawaii—Instagram stories and TikToks made that pretty clear, playing the role of a drunk uncle on family gatherings who can’t keep personal matters shut. You cling to that thought as the man stops a few feet away from you. You cling to it when he takes off his helmet, revealing just a black balaclava. You cling to it even when his eyes give him away.

But when he pulls off the balaclava, all you’re left with is the crushing realisation that you’re absolutely, without a doubt, screwed.

“Hey.”

Jungkook’s voice hasn’t changed much—maybe it’s a little rougher, could be also just from the cold—but it’s still the sound that makes you want to cry. Or run. Honestly, either would work right now.

His eyes lock onto yours, and all you can do is stare, wide-eyed, as if he’s some unreal figure, like a fairytale character suddenly brought to life.

You’ve watched Jungkook mature over the last few years—not in person, but still. You’ve seen the piercings he’s got and the tattoos currently hidden beneath his gear and gloves, and you’re suddenly more than aware that even though he was perfect back then and you shouldn’t have persuaded him to get piercings and tattoos, he’s become the one man you always knew he would be, if not more.

“S’up,” Yoongi just nodding.

That makes Jungkook glance at him, almost as if he’s only just noticed he’s standing there. A small frown forms on his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, and he holds out his gloved fist for Yoongi to bump.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, your instructor.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“The producer Min Yoongi?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook glances back and forth between you and Yoongi several times, and it dawns on you—he doesn’t know you and Yoongi are cousins. Yoongi was abroad the entire time you were with Jungkook and only came back right after the split, so of course, he never met him. And this… this is something you can work with. Maybe you can use it to keep Jungkook at arm’s length, or at the very least, avoid a complete emotional meltdown if Jungkook’s indeed moved on.

So you laugh softly and link your arm with Yoongi’s, resting your head on his shoulder, who just looks down at you, clearly confused by your sudden affection but, to his credit, says nothing. He knows you well enough to trust there’s a reason behind it.

“___.”

“Jungkook.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s my ex.” Jungkook’s smile isn’t the warm, beautiful one you remember. No, it’s that slightly unhinged smile, the one with his head tilted just so, and it makes you silently gulp.

“That ex?” Yoongi asks, even though he knows full well there’s only one. You reckon he caught on quickly to the game you’re playing.

You hum in agreement, but Jungkook can’t help himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luckily, Yoongi knows how to steer a conversation. “Aren’t we supposed to be learning how to snowboard?”

There’s a brief pause, and you see the way Jungkook’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep, calming breath.

“Yes, sorry. Let’s get started.”

Jungkook bends down to unclip his boots from his board and stands up again, tossing his board into the snow so it sticks upright. Yoongi follows suit, shoving his board into the snow like it’s second nature. You try to copy them but fail miserably, wondering how they made it look so easy when the snow’s this solid.

“Here, let me help.” Yoongi, surprisingly, helps you without his usual snarky comments about your lack of strength.

“Alright,” Jungkook claps once to grab your attention. “Before we get into any of the fancy stuff, let’s talk theory. Snowboarding’s all about awareness. It’s not just physical—you’ve got to keep your head in the game.”

“Awareness? Like, where you’re looking?” Yoongi asks dryly, acting dumb you know he isn’t.

“Exactly. Where you’re looking, where your body’s pointing,” Jungkook gestures bizarrely between you and himself, barely glancing at Yoongi. “That’s where you’ll go. Simple as that. If you’re distracted—by, say, something or someone—you’ll lose focus. And losing focus means losing control.”

Yoongi, unfazed, just rolls with it, clearly enjoying the little drama Jungkook seems keen to stir up. “Makes sense. Keep your eyes on the path ahead, yeah?”

“Exactly, mate. Eyes forward, always. But it’s more than just looking. It’s feeling the terrain beneath you. Even when you’re standing still, you’re never really still. You need to sense the environment. Be present, y’know?”

You nod, though in reality, you’ve got no clue what he’s talking about.

“Some people, though,” Jungkook continues, “they get distracted easily. Head in the clouds. Or… elsewhere.”

Oh, you’re not letting that slide. Whether he’s jabbing at you, Yoongi, or both, you’re not having it. “Could you just explain the theory without the snide remarks?”

Jungkook’s taken aback, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

You just shake your head, and he carries on.

“Right. Balance—this is key. It’s all about your centre of gravity. Too stiff, and you’ll fall over. Too loose, and you’ll just flop around.”

“Don’t want that, do we?” Yoongi smirks, clearly challenging Jungkook to keep his little act going.

“No, mate, you really don’t. Trust me. You need to find that sweet spot—controlled, but relaxed. Kind of like…” he glances at you, “when you’ve got things under control in your life, but you’re still going with the flow, yeah?”

Your eyes narrow at him, but you bite your tongue. There’s no point in calling him out when Yoongi’s clearly enjoying winding him up.

“Sounds like life advice, that. Keepin’ balance, goin’ with the flow.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Not that everyone takes it to heart.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. You never expected Jungkook to be this petty. He’s the one who moved on first. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Anyway, let’s get warmed up. Let’s do some exercises using the hill.”

You thought that ‘warming up’ would mean some jumping jacks and stretching, but oh, how wrong you are.

Jungkook has you and Yoongi running up and down the beginner’s hill without regret, and honestly, you can now confirm—it’s very much steeper than it looks.

While Jungkook just looks on, you and Yoongi can’t stop laughing and joking about how you are both panting like you’d just run a marathon, earning you multiple scoldings from Jungkook to stay focused. Not that it matters much, considering the only thing worth focusing on was trying to catch your breath—you nearly passed out twice at this point.

Despite Yoongi also being knackered, he still holds up better than you, but you can’t help but to clap him on the ass with a sarcastic “atta girl” more than once, which not only annoys him but seems to make Jungkook’s jaw clench in irritation too.

After what feels like the tenth climb, Jungkook finally calls it, walking towards you. “Enough. Short break.”

You and Yoongi groan in relief, collapsing onto the snow, letting your breathing slow down gradually. Only now, as you lie there exhausted, do you notice how beautiful the day is, the sky almost completely clear of clouds. From the position of the sun, you reckon it’s close to lunchtime, your stomach already growling in gratitude at the thought of food after all this exercise.

Turning your head to the side, you glance over at Yoongi, who’s also lying on the cool snow, admiring the sky. Suddenly, you feel sentimental. You really hit the jackpot having him as a cousin—he’s probably the most reliable person you know. It’s moments like this, especially when he turns to look at you with those soft eyes and that warm smile, that remind you how much you appreciate him. Reaching out, you intertwine your hands, knowing he’ll understand the rare moment of affection and let it happen for once.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Anytime.” Yoongi squeezes your hand, his gummy smile spreading across his face, a trait he’s clearly inherited from his dad.

Jungkook’s rather aggressive throat-clearing reminds you that you’re indeed not alone. Your petty ex is standing right there, looking as irritated as he’s been all day.

“Let’s do some stretches, then we’ll get on the boards,” he says, trying to mask his annoyance but clearly fails.

You and Yoongi drag yourselves up, lining up in front of Jungkook like school kids, who’s about to demonstrate some stretch when, in the distance, someone calls out Jungkook’s nickname—one you’ve found increasingly odd now.

“C!”

There’s a beautiful woman running towards him waving energetically, the same woman you saw in pictures with him on social media.

“Hara!” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up when she’s near, lifting her off the ground as they giggle together.

You’d never admit it, but the sight makes you feel physically sick. You’d rather gouge your eyes out than watch this scene unfold ever again. At least you’ve made Jungkook believe you’re with Yoongi—otherwise, you’re not sure how you’d survive the fresh stab to your heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” she scolds him playfully, tapping his arm while he still holds her hands.

You can’t bear the sight of his eyes sparkling for someone else, so you turn to Yoongi, who’s raising an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you’re okay. There’s no need to respond. You both know the truth—you’re still not over your ex. But what could you have done? Begged him to take you back before he found someone else? No. That’s not who you are, and you wouldn’t have stopped him from living the life he clearly enjoys now.

But seeing him today, seeing how hurt he is just by the sight of you—or rather, you with someone else—makes you uneasy. Especially when Hara is being overly affectionate with him.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Hara.” She turns to you, extending her delicate hand. You briefly consider ignoring her, but you decide to be the bigger person. Unlike Jungkook, who’s been cold all day, you take off your glove and shake her hand, introducing yourself politely. Take that, Jungkook.

She moves on to Yoongi, and after he introduces himself, her face lights up like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh my God! I’m such a fan! You’re, like, the best producer ever!” she gushes, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to burst out laughing at the sour expression on Jungkook’s face.

You: 2, Jungkook: 0.

“Really?” you ask with a mischievous grin, keen to twist the knife further. “Oppa, you should definitely sign something for her, don’t you think?”

Yoongi shoots you a look that could kill, but he simply smiles, his eyes betraying all the curses he’s silently aiming at you. “Of course.”

Still clutching Yoongi’s hand like it’s a lifeline, Hara turns her head back to Jungkook. “Oh my God! Did you hear that, C?”

“I heard,” Jungkook replies through gritted teeth. “Why are you out here in the cold, by the way?”

“Oh, right. I came to tell you that Namjoon’s arranged lunch at Tae’s.”

“That’s nice of him,” you sing sweetly, unable to resist adding a little extra honey to your voice. Everyone else gets your praise, everyone but Jungkook. Maybe you’re just as petty as he is, but you’re not backing down now, especially not when you can see his patience fraying by the second, his eyes dark with annoyance. A reaction is a reaction at this point.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Hara continues, turning and clinging to Jungkook’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him, “can you pretty, pretty please come to Jin’s tonight and tomorrow? We need help getting everything ready for the party in two days.”

It’s odd seeing Jungkook so easily swayed by her, the kind of behaviour you never thought he’d entertain. But maybe he’s changed, or maybe you never knew him as well as you thought.

“Sure, anything for you.”

Yep, you’re definitely going to throw up in the snow.

“What party?” Yoongi pipes up, earning himself a mental kick from you. There’s no way you’re attending a party where Jungkook will be.

“An early Christmas party! You’re both invited, of course. From what I’ve heard from Jimin and Namjoon, you two fit right in with everyone here,” she giggles.

For once, you and Jungkook seem to be on the same page, as he starts, “I’m sure they’ve got better—”

But for what feels like the hundredth time today, Yoongi interrupts, “No, we’d love to come. Thanks for inviting us.”

That crazy smile Jungkook had earlier is now plastered across your face as you look at Yoongi. Despite the silent argument raging between you two, you can’t help but trust him. Whatever plan he’s concocting, you have no idea, but you’re sure he’ll fill you in when you’re back at the hostel, alone.

For now, though, you trust him, because what else can you do?

"Let’s head to Tae’s then."

“With the boards?” you ask dumbly, because there’s no way you’re carrying your board across town.

“No, just leave it here and see what happens.” Jungkook smiles, a grin that instantly vanishes when Hara punches his chest.

“What’s with you? Be kind.”

“Sorry, noona.”

Ooh. So he’s with an older woman. Who’d have thought? It shouldn’t get under your skin this much, but it’s been a crap day, hell, even some crap years, and there’s nothing you can do to undo every thrilling experience you wish you hadn’t gone through because of him.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi mutters, grabbing not just his snowboard but yours too. If there’s one thing you could do to repay him for this gesture, it’d be to name him the sole recipient in your will. Not that you’ve got much to leave behind, but the thought counts, right?

You hadn’t expected ‘Tae’s’ to be a cabin on the slopes nearby, nor did you think it’d be a luxurious home rather than a restaurant. As you approach the door, you’re impressed—there’s no sign of it being some kind of inn as Hara rings the bell.

It doesn’t take long for someone to open the door, wearing nothing but some slacks and an open bathrobe, showing off his tanned, chiselled chest.

“C!”

“Tae!”

The two men pull each other into a bear hug, patting each other’s backs like they’re trying to knock the wind out of each other. Male friendships—you’ll never get them, and honestly, you’re glad you were born a woman with every violent tap.

When they part and Tae gives Hara a few friendly kisses on the cheek, you notice she’s just as comfortable with him as she is with Jungkook. Odd.

Then Tae turns to greet you and Yoongi. His eyes widen when he spots Yoongi, and a huge, boxy smile spreads across his face, so wide it looks like his face might split.

“Hyung!”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi replies, sounding strangled as he gets crushed in the taller man’s arms.

You’re torn between being amused by the visible disgust on Yoongi’s face as he’s squashed against Taehyung’s bare chest or offended that Yoongi never mentioned he knows someone who lives here.

“Please let me go.”

“Sorry, hyung, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Good.”

“Ah, I’m doing well too, hyung, I’ve missed you.”

“I can tell.”

It’s amusing how Jungkook and Hara are a bit thrown off by Yoongi’s coldness, but as far as you can tell, both you and Taehyung know it’s just Yoongi being his little ray of sunshine. He’s genuinely happy to see Taehyung again, even if he doesn’t show it openly.

“And who’s this Miss Universe you’ve brought along? Are you on your honeymoon?”

You don’t have a chance to answer when Taehyung turns to you, because frankly, his intense gaze and barely-dressed body in the cold are a bit overwhelming. It’s kind of bizarre that he’s standing there in the open, half-naked, while the rest of you are bundled up for the weather. You force yourself not to check if his nipples are hard and instead stretch out your hand politely.

“That’s ___.” Yoongi’s voice is heard.

But Taehyung ignores your outstretched hand and steps forward, pulling you into an embrace and kissing your cheek, completely throwing your composure out the window.

“Are you two dating?”

You glance at Yoongi over Taehyung’s shoulder, both of you equally unsure how to answer. Yes, you’re pretending, but outright lying is something neither of you is comfortable with.

“We’re—” you start to say, dragging it out, but thankfully, for reasons you can’t quite grasp, Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s shoulder, pulling him away from you and cutting in. For once, you’re grateful for Jungkook’s stupidity.

“Let’s get inside. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yes, right! Come in, come in.”

Entering Taehyung’s place is nothing short of wild. The grand open space is filled with dubious art pieces, the kind where you’d rather not know the price tag.

It doesn’t take long to kick off your snowboard boots and gear, leaving you in your base layers. Despite the warmth inside, the sudden shift in layers makes you shiver slightly, especially since there’s nothing in your stomach to keep you warm.

Following Taehyung further inside, you let your eyes wander, and you can’t help but stop when you spot the massive dining table, looking more like something out of a castle. It’s not the Korean BBQ on it that catches your attention but rather the chairs lined up around it. They’re shiny black. Not so unusual, except for the fact that they’re shaped like the backside of a person—naked, at that.

Yoongi, absolutely unfazed, just grins and gives you a light shove on the lower back to keep you moving.

“I hope you’re hungry. I brought plenty, so don’t feel like you’ve got to be all posh and eat like a bird.”

Rounding the table, you sit down beside Yoongi, while Hara joins Taehyung on the other side of the table. Why Jungkook chose to sit next to you, when there are thousands of other free chairs, is a mystery you’re not eager to unravel. Especially when you shoot him an irritated look as he sits down, and he just smiles like it’s the most normal thing in the world—as if the two of you weren’t split ages ago.

Not wanting to dwell too long on that and because you’re intestines are eating you alive at this point, you turn to your host.

“Thanks for having us, Taehyung. I’m starving after being tortured all morning.”

Everyone laughs at your comment—except Jungkook, who tries to nudge your ribs with his elbow, but you dodge, still somehow familiar with his antics.

“I didn’t torture you.”

“You did,” Yoongi mutters, boldly reaching for the meat to throw on the table grill, which has been sizzling away since you sat down.

“C always tortures people, nothing new,” Hara remarks, and Jungkook looks more betrayed than the day you broke up with him.

“You’re mean, noona.”

“‘You’re mean, noona,’” you mock him, cringing at yourself even as the words come out. It disgusts you how petty you’re being, and you recoil from it inwardly. The others don’t seem to share your sentiment, laughing at Jungkook being moody.

“Oppa, how do you know Taehyung?”

“Please, just call me Tae.”

“You remember the paintings in my studio? He’s the artist.” Yoongi answers you casually, though you can sense how much it bothers him being called oppa.

“No way! That’s so cool!” You gush, letting your eyes drift to the artwork hung on the walls as Yoongi adds food to your plate, much to Jungkook’s annoyance, which he makes clear with a side-eye.

“Aww, it’s not much.”

“Shut up, you’re amazing,” Hara scolds Tae, and you can’t help but think that, under other circumstances, you’d probably want to be friends with her. She seems funny and genuinely nice, which just makes it suck more the longer you dwell on it.

“I’ve been looking for a painting to hang above my bed for ages, but I can never find the right one,” you mention, trying to steer the conversation as far away from Jungkook as possible.

“If something catches your eye, you’re free to have it, ___.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t spoil her; she doesn’t deserve it,” Yoongi jokes, and you know he’s kidding with the way his eyes flit to you.

“Wow,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, but before you can respond, Taehyung cuts in.

“Why? What did she do?”

Oh no. Yoongi wouldn’t… but of course, he does.

“Little Miss Adrenaline here has been dragging me to most of her adventures since I got back from the States.”

“That’s not true. It’s only been a few,” you try to save face, but it’s hopeless with Yoongi being both your closest ally and worst enemy.

“So bungee jumping, kite surfing, and now snowboarding isn’t ‘most’?”

“No! I’ve done plenty without you, stop lying.”

“But it was enough.”

“They’re bickering like an old married couple,” Hara laughs, clearly torn between which of you to watch.

“It’s not enough—you’ve left me on my own more times than I can count!”

“At least I was there when you whined beforehand and came back all fuzzy after.”

“How noble of you.”

“You don’t seem like the thrill-seeker type, no offence,” Taehyung adds when Yoongi doesn’t come back with a retort.

“Well, sometimes you’ve got to step out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah! Look at you, trying snowboarding all bold and brave! Kind of like all the things you said you weren’t into when we were dating.”

The table falls into a deathly silence. Jungkook’s words ring out in the open space, echoing painfully in your heart and being. You’re stunned, utterly speechless at his outburst—it’s so unlike the Jungkook you knew. You don’t know what to say, and thankfully, Yoongi spares you the need.

“Want some more meat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your voice is quiet, too low to betray the trembling in it, but you’re sure everyone feels the hurt radiating from you. You don’t want to feel like a kicked puppy, but somehow, because Jungkook still means so much to you, it stings deeply.

The conversation between the others resumes, though you and Jungkook remain silent for the rest of the meal, though you reckon he doesn’t regret anything.

You learn that Hara is the same age as Yoongi, and that Taehyung is a bit older than Jungkook—though only by two years.

Even though you haven’t recovered from Jungkook’s jab just yet, you start to enjoy the food, feeling more energised than you did this morning. Jungkook, however, is still steeped in his pettiness, especially when Yoongi helps you tear a perilla leaf off the stack.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the constant negative energy from Jungkook is draining you to the point where you’re not sure you’ll even make it back outside for the snowboarding session.

Luckily, neither Yoongi nor Jungkook seem to mind dragging the day out here at Taehyung’s place. Hours pass, and after Tae makes you his special smoothie for your ‘sure-to-be-sore muscles,’ and Hara spills all the gossip you never knew you needed, it’s clear the snowboarding course is off for today.

While Tae and Hara clean up the kitchen, and Yoongi and Jungkook, to your surprise, get along enough to talk shop about music, you take the opportunity to admire Tae’s paintings, hoping to find one that fits what you’ve been searching for.

There are several abstract pieces, bold in colours and strokes, but they feel too chaotic, making you feel restless. You’re about to give up when your eyes land on a smaller piece above the fireplace, drawing you in immediately.

It’s beautiful—abstract as well, but with muted colours. You think you can make out flowers, or perhaps there are angels. You’re not sure, but the painting exudes a calm, controlled aura that you can’t tear yourself away from. Reading the title on the little card in the corner, you see “All of My Good is Yours.” It’s poetic, and it speaks to you on a deeper level.

“You like it?” Taehyung asks, stepping up beside you, hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. With his tousled hair and laid-back vibe, he looks every bit the artist.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“You want it?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Of course you can. I’d be happy to gift it to you.”

You smile softly, thanking him as you admire the painting once more, already picturing it above your bed.

“What’s the title about?” you ask, curious about the story behind the piece.

“C? Come over here real quick.”

You’re more than confused when Tae calls for Jungkook, not understanding the connection between him and this painting. You just hope the confusion isn’t written as plainly on your face as it is on Jungkook’s when he approaches you both, stopping just short between you and Tae.

“S’up?”

“What’s the title about?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker nervously between you, the painting, and Taehyung. “Why are you asking?”

“I gifted her your painting,” Taehyung beams, completely unaware he’s just dug your grave and pushed you in.

The laugh that escapes Jungkook is anything but friendly, his eyes filled with what looks to close to hatred as they land on you.

“Of course,” he breathes, then eventually explains with a disdainful smirk, “it’s about a lover who knows he can’t live without the other.”

You’re shocked to the core. Was this painting meant for Hara, and it ended up at Tae’s by mistake? Or why would Jungkook paint something so meaningful in the first place? You can’t handle it after learning the meaning and that he painted it, even though it’s exactly what you’d envisioned.

You take the hit anyway and say, as neutrally as possible, “I guess I shouldn’t take it then. It feels too personal.”

“Why?” Jungkook scoffs. “It was supposed to be yours anyway.”

Jungkook turns around at that, leaving you gaping after him. It’s not just his mood swings but also his remarks that are giving you whiplash at this point, and seeing the equally shocked expression on Taehyung’s face, you reckon Jungkook isn’t usually this bitter.

“Well…”

“Well…” Taehyung echoes.

“Still want it?”

Do you? You’re not sure anymore, but maybe there’s enough time to figure out if you can look past it all and take it home.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, just let me know, and I’ll pack it up for you.”

“Thanks, Tae. You’re too kind.”

“No worries.” He smiles as he walks back with you to where the others are lounging on his massive couch.

You don’t even have the chance to sit before Yoongi stands up and nudges you back to your feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“I want a nap.”

“What about the course?” Jungkook chimes in.

“Tomorrow, mate. Today’s done.”

You’re grateful Yoongi made the decision for you because you wouldn’t have been able to say no to either Jungkook’s company or the course itself, even though both aren’t exactly the healthy pastime. But looking outside, with the late afternoon light fading, going back to the slopes doesn’t seem as inviting as it did earlier.

“Aight,” Jungkook says, clapping his hands on his thighs as he stands up too, completely unfazed by your puzzled expression.

“Wait, we need to get our stuff from Hope’s,” you call after Yoongi, who’s already slipping into his boots.

“I’ll call him and let him know you’re coming tomorrow,” Taehyung offers.

You’re not sure if it’s rude of you to leave it like that, but you thank him anyway, hoping it won’t be a big deal.

Everyone’s getting dressed in seconds, and once again, you’re struggling with your boots while everyone else watches. You try not to let the embarrassment show, but there’s no stopping the blush. Even when you throw pleading glances at Yoongi, he doesn’t offer any help.

“Let me help.”

Jungkook being the one to help is something you never expected after how the day has gone, but you’re grateful nonetheless. He bends down, and like Hope earlier, he takes the boot and your calf in his hands.

It’s nostalgic, him touching you, helping you when you’re the damsel in distress, and it makes you think about how different things would’ve been if you’d stayed by his side. You’re not sure how to feel—sad or angry. But who should you be angry at? Him? For moving on? Or yourself? Or maybe at Yoongi, for not stepping up like a cousin should in moments like this?

“Thank you, Kook.” You hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip, hadn’t wanted to see Jungkook’s starry eyes locked onto yours as though you’ve broken his heart all over again. But what’s done is done, and there’s no taking it back now. Not even the nickname.

“Thanks for having us, Tae.” Yoongi gives him a quick dab, and after Jungkook does the same, and you say your goodbyes, you leave with Hara.

You try to stay close to Yoongi, avoiding the other two. You don’t even have the energy to scold him for not helping you earlier. And while you walk silently towards the hostel, Hara takes a different route to wherever she’s staying.

You don’t ask, and you definitely don’t watch as she kisses Jungkook’s cheek as if they won’t see each other later at Jin’s. It’s different from how she kissed Taehyung, and you’re pretty sure even if they’re not officially dating, they’re at least sleeping together. The thought stings though.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach Namjoon’s hostel, Jungkook, maybe for old time’s sake, opens the door for you to step in first, and when the door chime rings, you both glance up at the same time. There’s none of the old playfulness in his gaze, just a sadness you wish you’d never seen. You reckon it’s all just old feelings resurfacing—thoughts of the good times, ignoring all the things that went wrong.

“Hey! You’re back!” Namjoon calls from behind the reception desk, flipping through some books as the three of you stomp inside with your snow-covered boots. Just hours ago you thought his smile and laugh would be your weak spot, only to fade into insignificance after Jungkook’s presence. “How was it?”

“I’m still alive,” you and Yoongi mutter in unison, bringing a small smile to your lips. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster right now.

“Told you C would take good care of you both.” Namjoon laughs while Jungkook shrugs off his jacket. He’s probably too warm already, like he always is.

“Your luggage is—”

“In our room, thanks, Namjoon.” You hope he catches the hint as you give him a crazed look, willing him to stop talking.

“Right, in your room.”

To his credit, Namjoon’s clearly confused, and he’s got every right to be, but he plays along, which is exactly what you need right now.

“I’m taking a nap. Bye.”

“Bye!” You wave at Namjoon, following Yoongi in a desperate bid to escape spending another minute with Jungkook. It feels rude, the way you’ve treated Namjoon, but you hope he’ll brush it off as exhaustion.

You just want a bath and then to crash, even though it’s still early evening. It doesn’t matter that Yoongi’s snoring will probably keep you up; as long as you don’t have to face Jungkook again today, that’s all that matters. Especially when you see him entering the room across from yours as you close the door to the honeymoon suite, knowing that he’ll be off to be with Hara any minute.

masterlist • 02

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @leah-rose03

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vintagebuckybarnes · 2 days

Text

Unexpected Connections

Pairing → Neighbor! Bucky Barnes x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Total Wordcount → 1.9K

Summary → Living next to the one and only Bucky Barnes and the cutest cat you've ever seen has its upsides, and when he asks you to come along to one of the parties Tony throws, you're about to find out just how good the perks can be.

Tags & Warnings → Mostly canon compliant, neighbor au, Avenger Bucky Barnes, Civilian Reader, Bucky's past is referenced a few times, occasional use of Y/N, fluff, first meetings.

Author's Note → Hi, and welcome to my first story for Bucky! I'm pretty excited to have been working on a story for him, as he's been my favorite since I joined the fandom of the MCU a few years back. I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm looking forward to creating more and reading everything you all have made, as well.

Bucky Barnes - a former assassin who was brainwashed and used as a weapon, Avenger, and the best cat dad and neighbor you could have ever wished for - is someone you never thought you'd get close to. Not only do you live completely different lives, but you're also socializing in entirely different circles. Despite this, the universe had its plan ready when he moved into the apartment next to yours a little over six months ago.

It's been a few days since your new neighbor moved in, and even though the two of you have run into each other a few times, you never got more than a 'hello' out of him. Today, you're going to his apartment with some of your famous chocolate chip cookies. After checking yourself in your hallway mirror one last time, you grab your keys and the cookie container, ready to introduce yourself.

When you're at his door, you knock a few times, and before you can even think about what could happen, the front door opens, and you're met by a sight you only have ever seen in your wildest dreams. A tall, broad man opened the door while holding a stark white cat in his arms - one of them being a prosthetic, based on its black and gold color. His hair is neatly trimmed, and his beard has undergone the same treatment. What you notice most of all, though, is how his blue eyes are roaming over your face in a questioning way, making you feel a bit nervous.

"Hi, uhm, I am here to welcome you to the building! I'm your next-door neighbor, Y/N Y/L/N, and I brought some cookies for you to enjoy as a gift. Though if I had known you had a cat, I would have made a little treat for them, too," you say, internally chastising yourself for saying something so weird.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N; I'm Bucky and this—" he raises the cat with his arm "—is Alpine, though she already gets plenty of treats from me, so don't worry about that," he says with a small smile. While he wasn't having a particularly good day today, his mood shifted slightly when he saw you.

A soft meow follows his comment as she looks up at her owner as if trying to disagree with him, making you smile at the scene unfolding in front of you. Then, you reach out the Tupperware container with the cookies, and he accepts with a small smile and a soft 'thank you' before you head back. The click of his front door behind you lets you know he went back inside.

Since that meeting, Bucky quickly warmed up to you and your enthusiasm about the things you love. It only took a few weeks for him to open up about his work as an Avenger - which had you gasping loudly - and that he might be gone for weeks on end. That night, you offered to take care of Alpine in his absence, and when she approved of you as well, Bucky was happy to become friends with you.

"Doll?" Bucky asks as he's grabbing a drink from his fridge for you. He just returned from a mission when he found you napping on his couch with Alpine in your arms. You woke up not long ago, but he returned and didn't wake you.

"What do you think of going to one of Tony's parties with me this upcoming Sunday? If you're free, of course," he says with a small smile. He's aware your schedule can be unpredictable at times, with your job at the local bookstore and your volunteer work at the animal shelter, and always wants to make sure you have time to go anywhere together.

"That would be amazing, Bucky! Meeting the Avengers, having fun while getting free drinks, and spending time with you?! There's nothing better if you ask me," you say with a broad smile, which is infectious as Bucky agrees. It would be amazing if you could come with him.

"Okay, I will ask Ms. Jones to watch Alpine for the night then. I was initially going to ask you, but I figured a night with the Avengers would be a lot more fun than to be stuck here with this little goofball," he jokes as he sits down next to you, though she doesn't even open an eye to look at him as he does.

"I don't know, spending nights with Alpine is always fun, too," you tell your neighbor with a giant smile as you pet the white feline's back, her purring intensifying with every passing minute. Your smile is infectious, as Bucky can feel the corners of his mouth curling up, too.

It's the night of Tony's party, and you're ready to go as you hear a knock on your front door, letting you know Bucky is here to pick you up. After his invite, you went out to get a simple black dress that shows off your curves just the way you like, and your hair and make-up are kept simple, as you've never been one to go over the top with things like that.

As you open the door, Bucky can't help but let his gaze wander over your body, making the butterflies in your stomach go wild as he does. While you and Bucky don't have any interest in each other romantically - with him having a crush on his fellow Avenger, Steve, being proof of that - he can appreciate the beauty of women, and this moment isn't any different.

"You look stunning, Doll," Bucky says, and you can't help but smile as you take a moment to take in his outfit, too. He chose a black suit and a golden bowtie, matching his arm.

"You're not bad-looking yourself, either," you say before grabbing your keys and leaving your apartment. The Uber he ordered is already waiting for you two, and he opens the door for you like a true gentleman. When you're seated, he quickly walks around and gets in himself, ready to be brought to the party.

"What's on your mind?" Bucky asks as he looks over at you. Your nerves are clearly visible as you look out the window, and you're clutching your bag for dear life.

"Well, I- uhm... I'm a bit scared they won't like me," you confess as you cast your eyes down to where your hands are in your lap, holding onto the bag to ground yourself. Before saying anything, Bucky grabs one of your hands, making you look up at him.

"Y/N, I can promise you that there is not a single world in which they would not like you. If I'm being honest, you're an absolute ray of sunshine in your day-to-day life, and I cannot wait to share your happiness and kindness with them. I understand the nerves, but you got me to love you, so I'm positive the others are going to love you as well," he says, his blue eyes looking into yours with a soft gaze.

As he tells you this, you can feel the nerves in your stomach settle down immensely. The rest of the drive goes by so quickly that you don't even realize you're there until you see a bunch of flashing lights from the paparazzi at the party, and Bucky is already on his way out of the car to open your car door.

"Ready?" he asks as he extends his Vibranium hand, and you put your hand in his, ready to get out and into the party. He quickly leads you past the paparazzi, and once you're inside, Bucky immediately spots his best friend and crush - the one and only Captain America, aka Steve Rogers.

"Hi," Bucky says shyly as Steve embraces him, and you can't help but smile at this sweet side of Bucky. While they share some small talk, you look around, trying to see if you can recognize any of the other Avengers, but so far, you have only found Steve.

"You must be Y/N; Bucky speaks very highly of you," Steve says with a bright smile and kind eyes, and you nod as you can feel your cheeks heating up once again. His hand feels very large compared to yours and warmer than you're used to, but Bucky has explained that the super soldier serum raises their body temperature, which is why he's never cold.

"It's very nice to meet you, Steve. I have heard a lot about you from Bucky, both from the 30s and 40s, as well as what you two get up to now," you tell him, and this time it's Steve's turn to blush. Before he can answer, you're suddenly approached by a woman in a long red dress and fiery red hair: Black Widow.

"I was wondering when we would meet you—the sweet, caring neighbor he can't stop talking about," Natasha says with a smirk as she shakes your hand. Something about her immediately piques your interest.

"Bucky can't seem to shut up about you, so I'm happy to see that you actually exist," she says with a wink to Bucky, who rolls his eyes before ordering some drinks.

"I'm happy to hear that Bucky has already informed you about me; it makes me feel good that I'm worth talking about," you tell her honestly, and she smiles at your words. Sometimes, you wish to shut up with your blunt honesty for a moment, but it doesn't matter with Natasha. She enjoys people who say what they think.

"Have you met the others yet? Maybe Bucky could help you find the rest and introduce you," she offers, and your neighbor and friend nods with a smile before offering his arm, through which you hook yours. Before you know it, you've met Clint, Bruce, and Thor, who couldn't stop complimenting you, so the only person that's left is Tony Stark himself.

"Is this real? Am I going to meet Iron Man himself?" you ask Bucky with excitement dripping from your entire being, and he hums in approval. You spot the man you're looking for quickly, as he's always a significant presence in every room he's in. As you approach him, your heartbeat rises steadily until it feels like it's beating out of your chest.

"Well, who do we have here? If I'm not mistaken, you're the only Y/N Y/L/N," Tony says in his smooth voice, and the butterflies in your stomach go wild. He always has this effect on women, and you're most certainly not immune to it when he gently grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

"H-hi! Yes, that's me," you tell him with a broad smile, which he reciprocates in his typical manner that melts hearts and ruins panties everywhere he goes.

"It's an honor to meet you, and I hope Bucky will treat you right tonight. Now, go and have fun, you two," he says before being pulled away, leaving you with wobbly knees from the excitement coursing through your entire body.

"I can't believe it, Bucky, I've met the Avengers! Me, a simple human, meeting the Avengers of all people! I can't believe it," you tell him excitedly, your pace of speaking rapidly increasing as you get increasingly excited about what has just happened.

"You're not just a simple human, Doll; you're the best neighbor and friend anyone could wish for, and I'm happy you're here tonight," he says before guiding you to the bar, ready for the rest of your evening to start. The entire time, you're made to feel welcomed by everyone, and you couldn't imagine a better first meeting than the one you've had today - apart from the one you had with Bucky, that is.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes masterlist

GIF: Source → All the other graphics are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x y/n

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yan-lorkai · 2 days

Note

Hi hi! I really like all of your Yandere TWST stuff, but I admit I’m in LOVE with vampire Pom Trio. I wanted to ask how you think the whole trio would react to a sickly/frail darling. Like maybe darling was spooked and nervous to go in based on the rumors of the manor but their “friends” forced them to. Like friends could be their own.y ride, being sick could limit their interactions so they try to please their friends cause they’re lonely, etc. Like I could see Epel becoming such an overprotective big brother, especially if his new sibling is weaker/cuter/smaller than him. Vil could see the hidden beauty behind their weak/sickly form and try to bring out their “true beauty”. While Rook just loves their naive sweet demeanor and how so much of the world seems new to them. Uh! Just the idea seems so good to play with and darling could legit come to care for/love the trio cause while they are yandere and vampires they treat them better than anyone else ever has.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This was so fun and cute ngl, Epel's brotherly instincts really shine here when he realized that Yuu is like he is when he was human. And thank you, the Pometrio au was something I writed on a whim but it's my favorite oneshot so far! I hope you like this!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, vampire stuff y'know, blood sucking, dead corpses, angst, Ace is an asshole here, Reader has a very bad immune system and gets sick easily.

You were standing in front of the abandoned house, staring at it for a few minutes now. Something about its energy was so dark and draining, though the drops of heavy rain were soaking you from head to toe effortlessly. You had to go in now, you are already here, alone and cold, as your friends didn't want to wait for you to have a sudden change of heart and enter with them.

Your friends, mainly Ace and Sebek were excited while Jack tagged along just because, Deuce tried to make them wait for you but all of them were eager to explore the hidden secrets that the old mansion may hold. So they went on without you. Letting you here alone, in the dark, your only company was a sense of discomfort seetling on your bones.

'I'm going to catch a cold', You thought to yourself as your coat was completely soaked and your whole body was trembling.

You could turn around and go away. Or you could enter and search for them. You were certain if they were in your position, they would go away without a single thought, but you felt a bitter taste on your mouth just by considering this option. It didn't seem right.

With a resigned sigh, you went through the rusty gate, running through a long path to get to the door, passing by a garden full of withered flowers. With every step, the sound of your feet crushing the wet grass echoes around you as you huddle under the hood of your coat, trying to shield yourself from the rain that falls incessantly and the cold that seeps into your bones. You just knew that tomorrow you would wake up with a raging fever and a cough that never goes away, your health was so fragile and weak, a simple rain could put you to rest in bed for several days. You try not to think about it too much.

Without a doubt this mansion used to be a beautiful place years ago but now it was downright chilling, even more right now where your imagination can ran free, making appear as the house loomed over you as it was too dark to see anything clearly. The broken windows and peeling paint only proved to you how much time has passed, how not a single human had put their foot here in a long while.

And if someone was here and now, they didn't have any good intention. Abandoned houses were first of all, abandoned, nobody repaired it or took care of it, so it was dangerous to walk through it.

And second, you knew that in houses like this it was common to dispose of bodies or sell drugs, things like that. It was just common sense.

Swallowing hard, you turned the doorknob and entered the mansion, preparing mentally for whatever was going to happen.

Inside, darkness seemed to consume everything it could touch. The frail light came only from the moon and was not enough to see clearly. The hallway was empty so you took to wander around a little, hugging yourself to not get so cold. It was not working as a sneeze left your lips, your throat starting to get rough and dry.

It was so cold, so cold and wet, and dark everywhere. Your eyes got used to it very slowly and sometimes you kept bumping into doors and walls because the light wasn't enough. Though you really thought you heard at least once someone laughing when this happened.

"Gosh, why did I came here?" You thought out loud. Bitterness rising inside you as you remembered how Ace belittled you and forced you to come. All the rude things he said running through your head as you very slowly walked through the maze of decrepit corridors and forgotten rooms, still feeling that something very wrong was about to happen.

If not right now, then later on.

The dim light filtering through the broken windows casted eerie shapes on the decaying walls, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the creaking of old floorboards beneath your feet and your breathing. The whole place was devoid of life, of happiness, you looked for it in the portrait faces and all of them were seemed so sad and gloomy. Just like you.

Gloomy just like you are, having to deal with your bad immune system almost daily.

"Why didn't I just said no?" You knew why you didn't said no. Ace was one of your only friends, even if he was mean and rude without reason. You didn't want to be alone inside your room anymore, you didn't want to see your mother's worried expression or your father's frown as you got sick and bedridden again.

It was exhausting.

Even convincing them you'll be alright to go out tonight was hard as they were too worried about you.

"It could be worse" You smile even when your legs started hurting from how much you have been walking. Your stamina was always lacking, contrary to other teens you knew.

You got tired pretty quick so this was nothing new.

Feeling your energy dissipating, you call out for them once more, your voice echoing through the halls and then fading away slowly, leaving you behind. "They left me here all alone, didn't they? Well, it is my fault to allow them to drag me here, I suppose."

Then, you hear it: a strange noise echoing through the darkness. It's a faint, ominous sound, like a whisper carried on the wind or a belt being dragged on the floor, sending a shiver down your spine.

You strain your ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise but it seems to come from all directions at once, disorienting and unsettling.

"Really guys, you're going to play a prank on me?" You rolled your eyes. "Here of all places?

Certainly it was Ace idea to scare the daylights out of you and honestly it could have worked if you aren't so tired, another sneeze leaving your throat as you started walking again in a random direction. "I'm telling your brother you're being mean again, Ace and Sebek!"

You heard a giggle behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. Then it happened again and again but there was never someone there when you looked. An instinctive fear was growing on the pit of your stomach as you struggled to maintain calm, making excuses to not get scared.

It could be the wind. Or your imagination, maybe.

Or... Or... You didn't know.

You realized then that with each passing moment, the noise was louder, more insistent, it was as if the mansion's walls were alive with some unseen presence, watching you and waiting for a better opportunity to strike, faint smell of something you can't quite name it was on the air.

The wind was howling sofly at your ears, water dripping somewhere above you. Or was it beneath? Your coat was heavy on your shoulders, entirely soaked.

You weren't entirely sure as it was too dark to distinguish anything on the floor. What you did recognized was the sounds coming back.

I always knew I would die but it has to be here?' You looked around.

You were still surronded by doors who lend nowhere and the sound was getting near, taunting your existence as your friends liked to do, joking how you had more time to rest and the only price to pay was taking some meds or go to the hospital.

How it was easy to exist like this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do next. Should you stay and investigate the source of the noise, or should you ran? Every instinct screams at you to run, to escape this haunted mansion and its unknown horrors. But a part of you don't want to leave now.

You knew so little of the world, you were drawn to the mystery, to the possibility of discovering what lies hidden in the shadows, plus it was still raining outside.

"If there's someone out there, come out." You added after a few seconds, uncertain. "Please?"

You heard a little laugh behind you but this time when you turned around, there was someone there - said someone was so close that you both bumped your heads by how fast you had turned around.

You stumbled back, almost tripping if the stranger hadn't grabbed both of your hands, you were apprehensive but otherwise curious about this strange boy.

"Ouch, look where ya goin!" He grumbled, though there was a little smile in his voice. He laughed again and the sound was soft.

You protested loudly. "You were the one who was standing behind me!"

You meet the boy's gaze with a calm expression, snickering a little at the face he was making. The boy rolled his eyes, seemingly amused by how you didn't reacted at all by his sudden appearance and yet he wasn't in no hurry to introduce himself, letting the seconds go by, instead taking to observe you and the little bandages that adorned your cheek and the little cuts on your fingers.

"Ya alright, kiddo?" He asked after a while. His voice was softer than you could imagine. And there was a special glimmer on his eyes as if he was approaching a wounded, frightened animal.

"I'm fine, thank you," You replied, a little too quickly for it to seem natural as you hid your hands behind your back and straightened your back.

You didn't want to tell him you fell and scrapped yourself just the other day or how your arms were sore because of the injections frequently administered into your veins. You wished to forget this.

But then again, you had no reasons to tell him that, even if his inquisitive eyes searched for something deep inside your soul. "Just a few scratches, nothing serious." You laughed it off, not mentioning the potentially growing fever that seemed to burn your body very slowly.

"I can be a little clumsy sometimes." You lied, averting your eyes from his, a shiver running down your spine as you did so. His eyes, lilac and big, were like two stars staring at you, burning you.

The boy hummed softly, not at all buying your story as his eyes lingered on the bandages that adorned your cheek. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he observed you, as if he was trying to piece together the story behind your injuries.

He was stranger, more than this, you thought, what was he doing here? Why was he here? He didn't looked much older than you, maybe a year or two. And he didn't look dangerous too.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke again, a little awkward and unsure as if he didn't talked much with people his age. "Glad to hear that, the name's Epel by the way." He said, a hint of genuine concern in his tone. "So... What brings you here?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to this stranger. But there was something about him that put you at ease and you found yourself opening up to him more than you had expected. You didn't felt any judgement coming from him, instead he was very warm and friendly enough that he made you forgot about where exactly you two were at that moment.

"It's Halloween. My friends wanted to visit a creepy place, even if I didn't agree to it. Not because I'm afraid, well, I am a little, but because I'm still recovering from a very bad flu. They didn't care about it, though." You answered him, and that made you cringe.

Admitting this out loud - that they didn't cared about you - was a little sad even more because of the things they had called you when you voiced your opinion. "And then, next thing I know they all go in and I'm getting soaked in the rain."

Epel nodded understandingly, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. "But friends don't force each other into uncomfortable situations, don't call them names and don't hit them either." He stated as if it was obvious then he flicked your forehead.

You flinched, a little groan leaving your throat, not expecting this.

He was right.

And you knew it, of course you knew. But you also didn't want to be alone anymore with your thoughts. If being the scapegoat to Ace's comments and pranks was the price to pay, you found out that you didn't mind at all.

You were used to it by now.

"You don't have to endure this, you don't have to live a life you don't deserve." Epel pondered for a minute, looking at you from head to toe, water still dripping from your heavy coat. "That's what my dads say, anyway. There's a bathroom turning to the left, go dry yourself and I bring you some new clothes."

It was almost comic how you were being lectured by a stranger who didn't knew anything about you but had a little of common sense. But what was more strange was how he knew where to go and even knew where to get some clothes, humming you decided not to voice your suspicious about it and take this opportunity instead.

It would, after all, be easier to run from him in dry clothes if he truly was dangerous.

Not that you'll run that far, a voice in your head told you. But at least I could try, you answered it.

With a hesitant smile, you followed his instruction, turning left and making your way down the corridor to the bathroom. You felt his eyes on you as you walked and that scared you a little but you knew that deep down, he was not a bad person.

Or maybe you were wishing really hard for that to be the truth.

You turned the doorknob and started coughing when the dusty winds slapped your face. The bathroom as any other room was not used for many years now and its age showed. A little light came from a broken window revealing a cracked mirror hanging above a chipping sink and tons of vines still growing over the walls and stretching to the floor. You observed them for a second, in some way this was almost beautiful. You wished you had brought your phone with you. Alas, you didn't.

Your searched for a towel inside the cabinet below the sink and surprisingly enough there was one. A little dusty but it was the only thing you could use. You hanged it on the back of the door and then closed it. The bathroom now was completely dark but this was nothing new, though you didn't really like it how suffocating it could be.

You quickly strip off your wet clothes, shivering in the cold air as you used the fluffy towel to dry your feet and legs, then your torso. Part of you still find this whole situation strange and comical. Maybe you were hallucinating everything? It would not be the first time this happened. And you did spend a while out there in the rain.

As you dry yourself off as best as you can, you couldn't help but wonder about where Ace and the others had gone to. You were separated for a total of ten minutes or that was how long you had counted before giving up and entering the mansion. Could it be that they were in another wing of the mansion? Or did they leave through another exit and left you there?

Honestly you don't even want to know.

Right now, you're just grateful for the warmth of the towel and the promise of dry clothes to come. If this was indeed a dream, then you would feel saddened when you woke up. Epel was the first boy who didn't look at you with pity but with curiosity instead.

He was the first one to be gentle with you rather then offer tips about how to get better soon or how you should suck up and live instead of lamenting that you're sick again.

It was easier to cling to the idea that he was a good, caring boy instead of a total dangerous creep who was wandering around an abandoned mansion.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door and Epel's voice sounded from the other side. "I brought you some clothes," His tone still gentle and reassuring, like an absolute angel. "I hope they fit."

You open the door to find Epel standing there, holding out a bundle of clothes for you. "Thank you," you answered softly, meeting Epel's gaze with a heartfelt smile.

You close the door again, hearing his footsteps moving away while you observed the clothes he brought you, which funnily enough were exactly your size. And were similar to his own. A pair of pants and a really pretty purple coat. It seemed so fluffy and warm.

As you slip into the dry clothes he's provided, you can't help but feel a little curious while you thought about Epel. Who exactly is he and what is he doing in this abandoned mansion with his dads? Why does he seem so familiar with the layout of this place? You might not know a lot about tons of things thanks to your illness and being homeschooled, but you do know that people in abandoned mansions must be here for a reason, usually not a good one.

You're giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, though.

Still you must find your friends and leave soon. This whole game they're playing around is getting boring and you are tired.

Or I could leave alone. You reminded yourself. It's just fair to leave them when they've done the same to me many times before.

Stepping outside the bathroom, you could hear a faint sound. Weak. You couldn't understand what it was though. It was quiet like the wind howling or the house creaking, it was there only for a second before disappearing as if it had never existed. Still a chill went down your spine as if somethine was telling you to run away and don't look back.

"Epel?" You called sofly.

There was no response. The air seemed thicker now and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach again, remembering the noises from before. Did Epel had a sudden change of heart and was going to reveal he is actually a serial killer?

Or that his dad is the serial killer? Or that someone is a serial killer?

You're watching too many documentaries, that's for sure.

You took a hesitant step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. The faint sound echoed again, this time closer, but still indistinct. It seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway, the same hallway that you supposed Epel had gone to after you went to the bathroom.

I should probably run away now. You thought.

But then again, you never had time to be curious with how quick you could get sick. You had to find out more, or you were going to regret when you got back home.

The sound became louder, more pronounced. This time, it wasn't like a whisper carried on the breeze, but like thunder that consumes everything within reach. It was unnerving, almost as if the very walls held secrets they were reluctant to divulge. And yet you were persistent enough to try and get your answers.

You followed the sound quietly, hoping that nothing bad had happened. With each step you took, you turned your nose up at the strong smell that permeated that area of the house.

"Epel?" You called out to him once again, this time louder, as soon as you turned the hallway. "Ace? Jack...? Guys?"

A figure came running in your direction and crashed into you, sending you both to the ground, dust raising as you did. The world seemed like a blur, spinning around, your ears tingling. Before you could fully process what had happened, you felt strong arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling you close.

Instinctively, you tensed, kicking and screaming at whoever was holding you to let go.

Then you heard the familiar voice. "You're alive, thank God."

Relief flooded through you as you recognized Ace's voice, hands still raised to punch him; when you looked up, your relief turned to shock.

Ace was bloodied and bruised, his clothes torn and ragged. His face was a mask of pain and exhaustion, but despite it all, he held onto you with a fierce desperation, as if afraid to let you go. You could see guilt on his eyes, on his frown.

Guilty for how he treated you. Guilty for dragging everyone to this cursed place.

He placed his hand over your mouth and pointed to somewhere behind him with his head. "Vampires. They're real."

A half laugh escaped you. "No, Ace, they aren't."

But as you glanced over his shoulder, you couldn't deny the sublte movement in the darkness, the sense of danger lurking just beyond your sight. For only a second, you thought you saw a pair of lilac eyes and then it disappeared as if it didn't existed.

You remembered Epel. His familiarity with this mansion, how he was walking in the dark as if he could see clearly. You thought about the strange sounds you had been hearing and the bad, metallic smell. Despite your doubts, you could feel fear growing on you, whispering that perhaps there was more to Ace's warning than you were willing to admit.

Before you could think about it, Ace stood up and helped you, looking to the dark that still surround you - the moon hidden behind the clouds, his grip on your hand tight as the darkness only grew.

"I do a lot of dumb shit but there's no way I'm going to pour fake blood on me. You have to trust me on this." He begged you, almost desperately, taking both your hands on his own as he stared at you with pitiful eyes.

But you still couldn't believe him, not yet, there was so many holes on his plot.

What if it was just another prank? Once Ace pretended that he was been chased by a serial killer or something and then laughed when you got worried, being really dismissive and cruel to you. You met his gaze. Could it be true? Could creatures of myth truly walk among us?

No... Yes...? Everything was so confusing.

You met Epel and he didn't seem like a vampire to you. And if he was one, he was a very polite one.

"I doubt it." Is finally your answer. But even you could tell your tone was unsure. "Call Jack, Deuce and Sebek back and let's go home already. My feet hurt."

Ace threw his hands up as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. Dried blood made you wrinkle your nose as he was still close enough for you to catch the scent. Ace paced back and forth for several seconds, like a man convinced of a bad idea but who desires more than anything to pursue it without a second thought.

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation!" He exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation as his hands trembled slightly. "Jack and Sebek are dead. Deuce is missing. They were murdered by that trio of vampires. Why, out of everyone who could have stayed alive, do I end up with the sick and useless burden? The one who can't run? The one who can't do anything? Why did you live while they didn't?"

You felt a lump form in your throat upon hearing Ace's words, laden with pain and frustration. Tears threatened to flood your eyes as the weight of Ace's final words hit you like a punch to the gut, his voice dripping with bitterness and despair.

You felt like a dead weight, a burden only bringing more pain and suffering to those around you. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

Impotence. Sadness. Yes, you knew them well.

You searched for any trace of regret in Ace's eyes, hoping there was something there. But there was nothing, as if the red of his eyes was just a facade for the darkness behind them.

Sometimes he talked before thinking. That was one of those times but this didn't excuse his behavior.

"Well… This sick burden here won't bother you anymore, if you want to run, then run. If you want to escape, then escape, I won't delay you."

Tiny tears finally escaped your eyes, rolling silently down your cheeks as you felt yourself sinking into the darkness of your mind. Burden, burden, burden, being repeated over and over again.

"Oh, Ace, my feet hurt, oh, Ace, you hurt my feelings and now I'm crying like a fucking baby. For fuck's sake, we have no time for this!" He exhaled hard, his frustration palpable in the air.

You took a step back, pulling away from him. Your head was a mess right now, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts fighting each other. And it was so hot here, unbearably hot.

The weight of Ace's words hanged heavy in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt hurt by his harsh words and the way he had dismissed you so callously. Like he always did, always used to do in front of his friends. You wiped your tears away roughly, feeling a surge of frustration building within you.

With a final, determined glance in his direction, you turned and walked away, a little awkward and feeling really hot all of sudden. Each step bringing shivers down your spine, feeling as if thousands of eyes were staring right at you.

"Fine... I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing there." You pointed to the dark corner. Too tired to care about the possible danger lurking around.

"Wait- get back here!" Ace whisper shouted. Almost desperately.

You paid him no mind, couldn't find the strength to care. If there was a mystical monster then at least you could ask it some questions and you had so many. If there wasn't, you two could go home and reunite with your other friends tomorrow.

"I'm going to count to three and then I'm going to run." Ace warned you.

You were almost there. The air was a little heavy now but you knew it was just fear acting up. Sweet, heavy air that didn't seem to want to reach your lungs. You breathed through your mouth instead, counting the sound of your footsteps and the whistle of the wind.

There was nothing there.

"One." He started, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead and coating his shirt. Fear was visible in his eyes when you turned to face him.

"There's no one here, Ace." You gestured to the dark corner. Though you felt uncomfortable there, you shifted from one foot to another, looking around.

Yep, nothing there. Or so you thought.

Slowly Ace started to move away, still facing the dark you so willingly surrounded yourself. He made a vague gesture for you to follow him, audibly gulping large amounts of saliva, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Is he being serious about this whole vampire thing? You ponder about. The human perception truly was something curious, the mind capable of creating something with so little. Or perhaps this was all a prank? You couldn't quite decide what to think about.

"Tw--"

An unexpected noise sounded behind you interrupting him. Both of you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. Gentle hands settled on your shoulders, drawing you back until you were pressed against someone's chest. All that escaped your lips was a small gasp.

Feeling the cold of the person's body against your back, you couldn't shake off the tremor of fear that ran through your whole body. There was someone behind you, someone you didn't know who they were. You could feel whoever it was breathing, cold air trickling down your neck, a smile on their face as their arms wrapped around your mid. Too tightly.

Slowly turning your head, you found yourself face to face with Epel. As Ace had said, a formidable figure - a vampire. Though he wasn't the same gentle and soft boy you met minutes before, now he was dangerous, and his fangs were exposed, his eyes glinting with an unsettling hunger and yet, playfulness.

Behind him, stood a beautiful man. A long, black coat wavying in the air as he walked out of the shadows, blood dripping from his chin. Unashamed, he licked it, savoring it.

"Why...?" You ask the boy who held you. Tired.

Epel's grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Why?" He imitated you, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker. "Because I hate people like your friends. They can'tsee anything beyond their limited world vision, everything is so easy to them so they don'tcare about the feelings and thoughts of people like you."

Ace, who had been standing frozen in place, finally found his voice. "w'dya mean? I didn't do shit!"

The beautiful man in the black coat stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Ace. He wiped the remaining blood from his chin with a casual swipe of his thumb. "So you say but you see... The way you talked about your little friend here made my son very mad. You aren't very fond of them, are you?"

"I don't understand," you whispered, looking at Epel. "Why are you doing this? What did Ace do to deserve this?"

Epel's expression softened for a moment, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes before he hardened again. "It's not about what Ace did. It's about what he didn't. He didn't care about you at all, and that much was obvious since he invaded our home. He was joking and telling his friends all your most embarrassing stories to whoever wanted to hear."

He sounded sincere. He sounded sincere and you hated because you believed in him, his breath icy agains your feverish hot skin. "But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Or him for that matter, but father will."

The man in the black coat chuckled, his laughter sending a chill through the air. "That I will, for he dare enter in my territory, dirtying our portraits and damaging our coffins. And I suppose, insulting your little friend too, Epel."

You could see how Ace wanted to run, to escape the madness that was about to unfold before you, but his legs, like yours, felt like lead. Instead of running, he found himself rooted to the spot and he was shaking like a leaf about to fall to the ground.

His bravado had disappeared.

"Are you trembling, mortal? Are you afraid?" Epel's father hissed, his voice a chilling whisper that slithered into your ears and sent shivers cascading down your spine. His eyes, cold and piercing, bore into Ace's eyes with an intensity that made your breath caught up on your lungs.

The air around you seemed to grow colder, as if his very presence was siphoning away the warmth. "Good," he continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You should be."

At any second now you were about to have a panic attack or faint. Your body was still deciding what to do, really.

Epel's father moved with an elegance that was terrifying in its beauty, each step deliberate, his presence commanding and predatory. Before Ace could even think to react or to run, Vil was on him, faster than a flicker of light. There was no hesitation, no room for escape — the vampire’s hand shot out, slamming Ace against the cold, cracked wall with such force that a strangled gasp tore from his throat.

You froze, helpless, as Vil’s fingers tightened around Ace’s throat, lifting him just high enough that his feet barely scraped the ground. Ace struggled, his nails digging into Vil's hand. It was like watching a wounded animal fight a hawk.

“Is this all?” Vil murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as silk. He had the kind of voice that could calm anyone, his soft german accent coming out. “Is this the best you can do?” He tilted his head regarding Ace with an expression of mock disappointment.

"Indeed, how pitiful." A third voice. You turned around to see Epel’s other dad; another blonde, but this one had savage eyes and a strange smile on his lips.

And he was bloody all over; all over his lips, all over his white shirt. And he didn't care at all about it.

"Tsc, such a messy eater, you are." Vil looked at him with a disgusted stare. The other vampire only smiled.

"Plea-se..." Ace’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, but there was no strength left to fight back. The couple turned to face him.

"He is not worthy to be killed by you, mon amour." The smaller blonde said to his lover. The taller one giggled.

You took a step forward, your heart pounding painfully in your chest, but Epel caught your wrist, stopping you. “No,” he whispered, pulling you back gently, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful understanding. “It’s already over.”

“But… he’ll die,” you whispered back, tears blurring your vision, your voice barely a choked whimper.

Epel’s grip on you tightened, his expression soft but resolute. “He brought this on himself. Don’t look. You don’t have to see this.”

But you couldn’t tear your gaze away as Vil leaned closer to Ace, his lips brushing against the pulse in his neck.

"Are you hungry?" He asked Rook.

"Je suis satisfait, love." His answer was instantaneous.

Vil nodded. And then, without warning, his fangs sank into Ace’s flesh.

His body jerked violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream as Vil began to drink. The sight was horrifying — watching as Ace's life was drained away, the color fading from his face with each passing second. You felt your knees buckle, but Epel held you steady, his touch the only thing anchoring you as you fought to keep from collapsing.

Vil pulled back after a moment, blood staining his lips, his eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light. He watched Ace with a detached, almost curious gaze as the boy’s body sagged in his grasp, barely conscious, trembling with the last vestiges of life.

“Such a waste,” Vil murmured, his voice tinged with a faint hint of regret. Then, with a swift, effortless motion, he snapped Ace’s neck.

The sound echoed in the silence, sharp and final, and you flinched, biting back a sob that threatened to escape. Vil released Ace, letting him crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap. He turned back to you and Epel, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief, his expression once again composed, as if nothing had happened at all.

“There,” He said, his voice calm, almost bored. “One less distraction.”

You trembled, unable to find the words, the sight of Ace’s lifeless body burned into your mind. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, tried to force yourself to breathe. But the weight of what had just happened made it feel impossible.

Epel moved closer, wrapping his arms around you again, his touch gentle as he guided your head to rest against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” He whispered, his voice soft, almost soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

But even with Epel’s arms around you, you felt anything but safe. All you could see was Ace’s pale, lifeless face, the blood staining the ground, and the haunting, satisfied smile that still lingered on Vil’s lips.

“Mon trésor,” Rook murmured, his voice smooth like velvet as he addressed Vil. “You were as breathtaking as ever. Such skill, such grace.” His eyes drifted toward Ace's lifeless form before settling back on Vil with unrestrained admiration. “Tonight we've found so many little treasures. Yet the most interesting is still here.”

Vil sighed softly, shaking his head as he finished wiping the blood from his lips with a cloth. “What is it you want, Rook?” His tone was gentle but tinged with exasperation, as if he were used to indulging Rook's whims.

Rook gestured to you, his eyes alight with excitement. “This one. Look at them. They’ve endured so much yet still remain standing. Such resilience in one so delicate — it is rare, mon amour. I believe they belong with us.”

Vil’s gaze softened as he took in your form - frail, trembling, and clearly unwell, your breath labored. He stepped closer, moving with a kind of grace that seemed almost otherworldly, until he stood directly in front of you.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and warm despite the chill of his skin. “You’re burning up,” Vil observed, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been suffering like this?”

You couldn’t find your voice, throat dry and tight, but you managed a small shake of your head, a weak attempt to dismiss his worry. Epel, who still held onto you, answered in your stead, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve been like this for a hour or so, Father. They got caught in the rain.”

Vil frowned, his brows knitting together in a way that seemed almost heartbreaking. “You should have come to me sooner, Epel,” He scolded, though his tone remained soft. “You know I would have helped.” He looked back at you, eyes now filled with a gentle determination. “You poor thing. You must’ve endured so much on your own.”

Rook’s eyes gleamed with something akin to pride as he watched Vil’s interaction with you, his smile growing wider. “See, mon amour? I knew you would understand. They need care, guidance. They need us.”

Vil nodded slowly, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “Yes… they do.” He turned back to you, his expression softer than you’d ever thought possible, even more because he was the killer of your childhood friend.

“I used to be a doctor once,” He confessed, his voice quiet, as though sharing a secret. “And I have not forgotten the duty I took upon myself to care for those who needed me.”

You felt your eyes welling up with tears, unable to fully comprehend the kindness he was showing you. “You… you don’t have to…” you tried to protest, but the words died in your throat, the exhaustion and fever taking their toll.

“Hush,” Vil murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was achingly tender. “You’ve fought enough for one day. Let us take care of you now.” He glanced at Epel, who had been watching everything with wide, hopeful eyes. "Epel, go and prepare some chamomile tea, Rook, you wouldn't have a tonic for the fever, would you?"

Rook beamed, clearly delighted by how things were unfolding. “Ah, how wonderful! Our family grows once more!” He reached out to help steady you, his touch light, as though afraid you might break. “I don't have any remedy with me now, mon roi but I can go and brought more.”

Epel’s face lit up, and he quickly nodded, disappearing among the shadows and leaving you alone with them. These mythological creatures, killers. And also your helpers.

This moment never came.

"Then go, we'll be waiting" Vil said to his lover, depositing a small kiss on his forehead before he disappeared into the shadows and the darkness.

"We'll then, this way, little one." Vil's hand never left your shoulder as he guided you slowly through the corridors - you were skittish, preparing yourself for the moment where he would attack you, that he would kill you.

Vil’s grip remained firm but gentle, his touch more reassuring than restrictive. He led you through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, a stark contrast to the loud, frantic beating of your heart.

You flinched at every shadow that flickered in the candlelight, expecting at any moment for him to bare his fangs, to reveal that this kindness had been nothing more than a cruel joke. But that moment also never came.

Instead, Vil paused at a doorway, pushing it open with a smooth motion and revealing a warmly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and lavender, and you caught sight of a large, comfortable coffin piled high with soft blankets.

“You’ll rest here,” Vil said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He guided you over to the coffin - his coffin, carefully easing you down onto the mattress. As you sank into the softness, a sigh of relief escaped your lips, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been clawing at you.

“But… why?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why are you being so kind to me? Why won't you kill me?”

Vil’s eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw a trace of something warmer beneath the icy exterior—a hint of sadness, perhaps even empathy. “Because you deserve it,” He answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve suffered enough, haven’t you?”

You blinked up at him, struggling to process his words, to believe that someone like him — a vampire, a predator, a killer— could possess such tenderness. “But I’m just… I’m just a burden,” you murmured, your voice cracking with the weight of your insecurities.

Vil’s expression hardened, and he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your eye level. “No one in my care will ever be a burden,” He said firmly, and there was an intensity in his gaze that made you believe him, even if only for a moment. “You have worth, little one. More than you know and more that you're capable to see right now.”

Epel entered the room then, carrying a tray laden with steaming cups and small vials filled with colorful liquids. “Father, I’ve brought some tea.”

Vil stood, taking the tray from his son and placing it on the bedside table. “Drink,” He instructed, holding out one of the cups to you. “It will help.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for it, but Vil’s steadying grip enveloped yours, guiding the cup to your lips. The warmth spread through you, soothing the chill that had taken residence in your bones, and you couldn’t help but sigh as the tension slowly began to melt away.

"Don't make such a long face, darling," Vil reprimanded you, his fingers smoothing down the traces of worry and tiredness.

"I just... You know you are my friend's killer, right? I don't know how to react to that." You were sincere, avoiding his piercing gaze as you observed the porcelain and the drawings from his cup.

"We kill to survive, not for pleasure or entertainment, I can see how things may be from your point of view but you don't have to worry." He sighed, looking back at his son, Vil could see that he had grown quite attached to you. And the sight made him quite warm.

Epel was a terribly lone child in his opinion, and it would do wonders for him if he had a younger sibling.

"What will happen to me?" You dare ask him the question that made you scared. His hand found yours and he squeezed it gently.

"I will take care of you," He told you. Vil’s lips quirked up into the faintest of smiles. “Do you want to lie down now or wait for Rook to return with your medicine?” He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softer than before, and you answered him by letting your body fall into the coffin. “I see, well, rest now. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe those words, to let your guard down, even just a little. As your eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to pull you under, the fever subsiding slowly, you felt Vil's hand slide into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“You’re safe now,” He whispered, and with that, you let the darkness take you, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the warmth of their kindness.

Things may have not been ideal but they weren't that bad - for you, that is.

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byecrow · 2 days

Text

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : M/n can't seem to enjoy his prom night because all he can think about is his situationship, Jake sim. When M/n and Jake both win prom king, the proximity forces them to confront their true feelings and the nature of their relationship.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : situationship!jake x m!reader

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 1.4k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 : high school au, feat. pocketz (and jay), slight jay x reader, jake gets jealous, situationship gets resolved

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 : omg, first fic posted!! This is only the second fic I've ever written so I hope you guys like it <3. Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed, that's something I'm trying to work on

The booming bass of the speakers and the suffocating scent of perfume and cologne filling the dimly lit school gym should be enough to excite, and disorient, anyone.

Except for M/n, who is currently staring at his “not my boyfriend but not just a friend,” Jake Sim. They’ve been texting every day for the past few weeks, staying up until ungodly hours of the night to talk about whatever is on their minds, life drama, video games, the occasional flirting, anything. The problem is anytime M/n tries to make plans in person, Jake turns him down. And whenever M/n does see him in person, he acts distant and as if nothing is going on between them.

“If you’re gonna be utterly, hopelessly, in love with someone, can it not be with the guy who’s afraid of being seen with you in public?”

“Sunoo!” Jungwon scolds. M/n looks down at his lap, hurt by Sunoo’s comment. He’s not mad that he said it, he’s mad that he’s right.

“I’m just telling the truth! When was the last time he talked to M/n irl? Asking for notes doesn’t count,” Sunoo looks between them, neither Jungwon nor M/n have a response. “That’s what I thought. M/n, I promise you there are so many other things you could be focusing on. Like winning prom king, they’re gonna announce the winners in a few minutes!”

“I really don’t feel like getting up on stage and having to dance with some random, Sunoo.”

“Well, if you weren’t prepared for the responsibilites of becoming prom king then you shouldn’t’ve signed up,” Sunoo argues.

“You signed me up for it, Sun. You literally forged my signature.”

“Well let’s not get caught up in the details,” he waves his hand as if to deflect the blame. He catches sight of something behind M/n and smiles, “Would you look at that? I think someone’s interested in you, M/n,” Sunoo devilishly grins gesturing behind M/n. M/n turns around and sees Jay shyly looking at them in the distance. Jay smiles at him when they make eye contact and M/n quickly turns around trying to hide his face.

“He’s coming this way~” Sunoo teases. M/n kicks Sunoo beneath the table but it’s no use as Jay has already made his way over.

“Hey guys,” he says to the three of them but it’s obvious that his attention is mainly on M/n.

“Hi Jay,” Sunoo and Jungwon say in unison. They watch as Jay stares at M/n admiringly.

Jungwon coughs to break the silence, “Hey, Sunoo, wanna go dance? I love this song.”

“Uh, yeah me too!” Sunoo quickly stands up, Jungwon following suit, “See you guys later! Have fun M/n~,” M/n tries to protest but it falls on deaf ears as he watches Sunoo and Jungwon scurry along to the dance floor.

“Well, we shouldn’t let them have all the fun, right?” Jay smiles and holds out his hand, “May I have this dance?” M/n hesitates. He glances back to where Jake was but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” M/n takes Jay’s hand as he’s whisked away onto the dance floor. Jay intertwines their fingers with one hand and holds M/n’s waist with the other. They dance for a bit, Jay gracefully twirling and spinning M/n around. M/n laughs as they dance. Jay pulls him closer to his chest, staring into M/n’s eyes with a smile.

“You’re a good dancer, Jay.”

He laughs softly, “So are you,” He pauses before continuing, “Can I ask you something?” M/n nods, “Why has Jake been glaring at us since we started dancing?”

M/n furrows his brow and glances over to where Jay is gesturing. He sees Jake leaning against the drink bar, gripping the table so hard he’s surprised he hasn’t broken it. Jake’s staring daggers into Jay’s skull. M/n has never seen this side of Jake— so angry, so jealous. Jake quickly looks away when he notices M/n’s gaze but he can’t help himself from stealing a few more glances.

“Oh, that's um— it’s ‘cause—”

“Are you guys like together, or something? I’m not dancing with a taken guy am I?” Jay questions, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no! I mean, I wish,” M/n thinks for a bit but quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts, “but, no, nothing’s happening. Nothing official anyway…”

Jay can sense the disappointment in M/n’s voice. Jay lets go of him and tucks his hands into his pockets, “Y’know, M/n, you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, too.” Before he can continue a girl announces that the results for Prom Court are about to be announced. When M/n looks back at Jay he’s already walking away, waving him goodbye.

Jungwon and Sunoo find M/n back on the dance floor as they await the results.

The girl onstage is holding two envelopes, presumably containing the results. She speaks into the mic, “And now what you’ve all been waiting for. Our first winner of the night is—” She pauses for dramatic effect as she reads the envelope, “Jake Sim! Come on up here, everyone give our Prom King a round of applause!”

M/n claps along with the rest of the students as he looks over at Jake. Jake glances at him, still very clearly jealous, but he pushes it aside and fakes a smile for everyone else. He walks up onstage as the girl places a sash and crown on Jake. He smiles and waves towards the crowd, his smile faltering slightly when he sees M/n.

“And now, for our second winner, it’s— M/n L/n!”

M/n’s eyes go wide as he looks around, Jungwon is surprised but claps in support while Sunoo can’t help but laugh. They gently push M/n toward the stage and he slowly walks up. A sash and crown are placed on M/n as well. He looks over at Jake, this is the closest they’ve been in the past few dances.

“And, as per tradition, the prom royals will now have their first dance!”

The two look at each other as the crowd cheers them on, awaiting their next move. M/n holds out his hand for Jake but Jake hesitates.

“Dance with me or I’ll go ask Jay.”

Jake’s eyes widened as he quickly grabs M/n’s hand with a firm grip, leading him onto the dance floor. They stop in the middle of the crowd, Jake firmly places his hands on M/n’s hips while M/n rests his hands on Jake’s shoulders. It’s awkward at first, but that quickly melts away. The dance feels natural— like M/n's waist is where Jake’s hands are meant to be.

“Hey,” M/n says tentatively.

“Hey,” Jake says back, more confident but with a hint of guilt.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” M/n decides to go all in, he doesn’t know when he’ll be this close to Jake again.

“Ah, yeah…” Jake swallows trying to push down his guilt, “I–I didn’t mean to, I was just… nervous,” he looks down, avoiding M/n’s gaze.

“‘Nervous’? You’re the captain of the soccer team and volunteer to present in front of the whole school, how do I make you nervous?”

“That’s what scares me, M/n!” he looks back up into his eyes, “I’ve never been scared of talking to anyone, but you—” the words catch in his throat, his eyes tearing up slightly, “You’re different M/n. I like you, maybe too much. I thought I knew what love was but this is so different from anything I’ve felt.”

“Love?” M/n questions hopefully.

Jake smiles, looking into M/n’s eyes, “Yeah, love. I love you, M/n, and I’m so scared of what this means," he pauses, "But more importantly, I’m scared of losing you.”

“Hey, Jake, look at me,” M/n softly cups Jake’s face bringing him to look into M/n’s eyes, “I love you, too. You’re not gonna lose me. We can figure this out together.”

“Promise?” Jake holds out his pinky, needing M/n’s affirmation.

“I promise,” M/n locks his pinky with Jake’s, staring into his eyes with a confidence that reassures Jake. M/n leans closer and gives Jake a gentle kiss on the cheek. Jake blushes and giggles before looking down, smiling shyly, “Wanna get out of here?” M/n asks.

“In the middle of prom?”

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with weeks of avoiding me without making up for it?”

Jake laughs, smiling widely at M/n. He takes M/n’s hand in his and leads him out of the dance, excited to see where this new relationship takes them.

#˗ˏˋ 𓅪 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 ˎˊ˗#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim x male reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader

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captain-joongz · 3 days

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I hope you are feeling well and eating well. I wish you to always be healthy. I am writing this with great shame right now. This may be perversion, but it is funny and that's how it is. I think you are the best person to handle this issue on this platform. 🫠

To be honest, my bias is Soobin and I had thoughts floating around in my mind for the past few days. You can apply it to the other members too<3. Soobin and I have been together for a long time and have been together many times, but we promised each other 1 month before the wedding not to even masturbate. We had difficult requests etc. The wedding day was pretty normal, but our honeymoon bag was changed by our close friends and it contains all kinds of garters....

hello baby, thank you for trusting me with this request! i hope that i was able to deliver what you wanted <3 i am so sorry for the delay with the answer, though, i promise to do better next time!

i'm having fun with these, and wedding seems to be a recurring theme of Soobin's stans 👀

warnings: unprotected sex, making out, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk, lingerie

the idea came to the two you quite easily, it was even super easy to agree to it - a month, that's nothing right? it's not like you can't handle having no orgasms or having sex with the love of your life, right?

right...

it started off okay. giddy and full of anticipation and excitement, you both giggled at each other like two high-schoolers, giving each other eyes and pursing lips, the understanding that nothing was to happen running between you. and it was fine

it was fine

you didn't talk about it with Soobin in depth, but honestly, you started breaking after the first week. the month before was the most stressful part and you found yourself begging for some easy fun in the sheets with your fiance, your body heating up and thrumming anytime you two were close. but Soobin looked completely unaffected, so you didn't want to be the one to bring it up. yes, if given the chance you'd probably be fucking him or yourself like three times a day just to fucking cope with the wedding stress, but you could do it

until like the middle of week two, then you realised that you really couldn't. but both you and Soobin were so damn competitive and you wouldn't be the first to buckle - and you saw the cracks in Soobin's unbothered persona. you saw his hands clenching when you walked around in shorts, the way his eyes would catch on your nipples anytime you walked by in only your tank top

he would suddenly turn more serious, speak less and focus solely on you in that way that you knew he'd be balls deep already if it wasn't for the promise. the stupid annoying no good promise that was starting to drive you up the wall

week three and you'd start to slip - hands would start to linger, eyes would wander more. both of you had a hard time focusing and you were so fucking tense you felt like dying. the need to just jump onto a cock and make yourself cum over and over again was making you insane and you were barely holding on anymore

and the only thing that kept you in lane was seeing Soobin struggle just as much. you swore the man had to wait out more awkward uncomfortable boners in these past three weeks than he had to through his whole puberty, and it was funny at the beginning before you became too desperate and even the faint outline of his hard cock was enough to make you wetter than a fucking bathroom sink

you were ready to throw in the towels, but that would be giving up and you two didn't do that

not even when you lost control and your innocent little kiss quickly spiralled into a heated make-out that ended with you humping your fiance like a fucking dog before he pushed you off with a pained whine. you both were fine

thank god the last few days before the wedding were so crazy and packed with activities you barely had the time to think about the sorry state of your love life, but your body didn't forget - the buzz was there, under your skin, making you feel like you were losing your mind. and combined with the anxiety from the planning it was turning you into a jumpy nervous wreck. you needed it, you needed it bad

the rest came in a blur, the wedding was beautiful and you spend the whole day happy crying, drinking with your friends and family, and dancing with your now husband. the hungry looks you two were sending each other were not lost on everyone, but of course you'd be excited for tonight, so they only shrugged it off with smiles and laughs. they had no idea...

at least you thought they didn't, until that night you finally turned in and after much screaming, laughing and wolf whistling made your way back to your wedding night suite. and now, you were looking at what you thought was your bag with your usual toiletries and a tasteful pretty sheer white night gown. what wasn't in your bag was the deep red lacy lingerie, garters and black pumps that you were currently looking at

what in the fresh hell??

after checking through the bag a couple times, trying to make sure it was really meant for your and it wasn't by accident dropped off here by some confused guest (if so, they were planning to have a hell of a night, god damn), but it was your bag, only different contents

the mystery got solved when a text came to your phone. did you find the bag? it was from your best friend and you started to realise what had happened. have fun tonight after your little ban ;)

embarrassed, you didn't even want to answer. your bff was the only person you shared this little secret with, but she probably roped in your other friends so they would help her switch your bag. in your mind you were cursing her, but your hands were already going through the contents again with barely contained interest. well, it was already here... and it would look extremely good... why not?

dragging the bag into your bathroom to change quickly before Soobin came in from the outside where he was still talking with his family, you carefully tore yourself out of your wedding dress (not easy, turns out) and started untangling the delicate lacy undergarments

when Soobin entered the room, it was still empty. his mind was racing with the possibilities, and he knew that after a month of complete abstinence with the occasional excitement when you two lost control, he probably wouldn't last longer than a few minutes with the accumulated lust that was already making him hard. but he had a whole night, didn't he?

hearing the bathroom door open, the excitement surged in him and he braced himself to turn. he knew you'd get something pretty to wear, but upon turning seeing you in a deep red lacy set complete with garters and black tights and heels, it was like his whole world spun and he was suddenly dizzy with desire

you barely had two seconds to take in the absolutely ravenous look in his eyes before he was on you - he moved so fast you didn't even catch it with your eyes. one moment he was standing by the bed and the next he was grabbing you and prying your mouth open with his tongue

the kiss was filthy and fast, overwhelming you in mere moments before you were thrown back onto the bed, back hitting the soft bedding and bouncing lightly, and Soobin quickly climbing on over you to kiss you more until your lips were wet and sticky with drool

"are you actually trying to kill me, baby? already want to collect my life insurance?"

he'd throw out little remarks between your moans, nipping your lips, biting your neck, hands running over your whole body and catching onto the lingerie, pulling strings to snap them back onto your skin, to feel you tense and clench under him as you cried for him

"fuck, i need to fuck you right now, i promise i'll be slow and loving later, baby"

and that's how you found yourself falling apart on his cock seconds later, Soobin barely undressed with his shirt open and tie hanging between you, pants and underwear pushed just under his ass, your legs forced apart as far as they could go with your panties only pushed to the side so he could easily slide into your pink wet cunt and fuck it with reckles abandon

both of you were so turned on you couldn't even speak anymore, Soobin grunted above you as his hips rolled smoothly into you and hit your sweet spot effortlessly, and you lied under him completely boneless, just hungrily taking the pleasure his cock was providing for you, high-pitched whimpers and moans falling out freely. you heard the quiet rapid squeaks of the bed as your bodies bounced on with the motions, you heard the rush of your blood as your climax ruthlessly approached until you were screaming, the bliss taking over and cunt clenching

you both came at the same time, the orgasm that barrelled through you forcing you to tense up as your back arched, and Soobin's cock got mercilessly squeezed until he was spurting his cum deep into you, groans being punched out of him with the force of it

"don't worry baby, i didn't take anything off, so i can still take a nice look at you with my cum trickling down your thighs"

you had a long night ahead of you, and you were going to enjoy every damn second of it

divider by @cafekitsune

#hard hours #txt hard hours #txt smut #soobin smut

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withahappyrefrain · 3 days

Note

Hi! If I've missed the deadline then feel free to ignore this one - I may have got confused with timezones! But if I've slipped in just in time then I would love to get your take on this adorable Autumn/Fall prompt with Bob:

🎃 one not being able to focus on carving their own pumpkin because they're too worried about the other getting hurt while carving theirs

I hope you're having a lovely weekend and I'm excited to read all the drabbles you share ❤️

Stoppppp 😭😭😭 this is so Bob!!!

"Robby?"

The nickname broke your boyfriend out of his hard concentration. His handsome face relaxed as he adjusted his glasses.

"Yes my love?"

You couldn't help but giggle, Bob's endearing nickname never failing to make you downright giddy, "Aren't you going to carve your pumpkin?"

The two of you had spent the day at a local pumpkin patch, carefully picking out pumpkins to carve and place on your shared porch. You had been so excited to carve pumpkins with him, even insisting on getting those Pillsbury pumpkin cookies and putting on a shared favorite, Halloween Town.

While you had spent time agonizing on which design to use, Bob seemed more focused on you than his own pumpkin. He started on a stencil, but stopped when you picked up the knife to make your black cat under the moonlight design.

"I will....in a bit," He said absentmindedly, his oceanic eyes focused on your right hand, which was holding the carving knife.

"Alright Robby," you shrugged, returning your attention back to your pumpkin.

"Wait honey!" His unusual outburst caused you to nearly jump, your hand luckily gripping the knife instead of dropping it.

Bob moved quickly so he was behind you, his large hands now over yours as he helped you maneuver the position of the carving knife.

"Always carve away from you. That way if you lose control, it'll move away rather than towards you," He explained, pressing a kiss to your temple.

A light bulb went off in your head, "Is that why you've been watching me this whole time? Instead of carving your own pumpkin?"

The tops of his cheeks turned a rosey shade, his eyes looking anywhere but yours, "Maybe....yeah. I just wanna make sure you're safe, that's all."

His gesture made your heart melt. How was it possible to fall even more in love with him than you already were?

"My love, what are you-oh!" Bob nearly lost his balance when you practically lunged towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I love you," you murmured in between kisses, "So damn much."

You could feel Bob smile into your kiss, "I feel the same way, my love."

#my writing #bob floyd #robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fluff #drabble weekend

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notjustjavierpena · 2 days

Text

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter II

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I'm so sorry for the very long wait. I ended up separating the chapter into two parts because it ended up being 13k. Hope you can forgive me!

Chapter Summary: In which you get married to the General.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, religion in the form of Roman Gods, shitty parents, anxieties over wedding night

Word count: 5k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/151335016#workskin

Chapter II: A wonderful day for a wedding

Due to the warm night, it doesn’t surprise you when dawn brings the most beautiful sunrise all year. The landscape outside is bathed in gold and when you gently guide a lost bee out of your bedroom window, you feel the warmth of the sunshine prickle your skin.

You have a great deal to do before the carriage ride to the Acacius estate, so you hurry through breakfast - bread and cheese with herbs - to make sure there are enough hours in the morning for your bath, your grooming, and your dress preparations.

You gently wash off the sweat and sleep from last night by rubbing slow circles down your arms, legs, and chest with a piece of soaked cloth. The excitement pools in your belly as you focus on the dream wedding belonging to the little girl in your heart happening today. The fact that it is arranged by your parents doesn’t diminish the fact that your tunic is beautiful and the festivities will be worthy of the Gods. You have no tears and concerns for Cassius left, you say to yourself, or at least, you’re not allowing yourself to have any left.

“A perfect day for a wedding,” your mother says as she brings you more water for your bath instead of the maids, pouring the freshly hot water into the tub by your feet. Afterward, she moves to sit on a chair behind you to wash your hair.

“Mother,” you say while she tilts your head forward, pouring water over the back of your neck, “I want jasmine flowers in the wedding crown, can we please have a maid pick some from the garden? Marcus— I mean, General Acacius will be impressed if I remember our conversation from yesterday.”

The warm water feels soothing as it cascades down your shoulders, even more soothing is your mother’s fingers detangling your hair with practiced care. You spot her in the full-body mirror along the wall, her face sporting an affectionate smile, “Jasmine is his favorite? The General told you this? He must like you, my daughter.”

“Mother, we barely know each other,” you let out a little laugh and turn your head back to look up at her. She grins down at you, smoothing her palm over your wet hair to squeeze out some excess water.

“Yet you already care what he thinks,” she points out with a slight hint of teasing. You splash a few drops of water in her direction and she acts outraged in only the way a mother can. The both of you laugh, the bubbling feeling warm in your chest until you also feel melancholic. The feeling that you should have had last night comes creeping up on you now.

“I’m gonna miss you and father,” you say softly and she wraps her arms around you from behind, not caring about getting her clothes wet if it means squeezing you enough to make you feel how much she loves you.

“I’ve been through this two times already. You know we still see both of your sisters. I am not sending you off to another country,” she soothes, rocking you from side to side and pecking the top of your head. You reach up to hold her wrist.

“I know this but I’m the last bird leaving the nest,” you reply with eye contact in the mirror, corners of your mouth turning downward. You sigh quietly.

“And father and I will finally be able to have some peace around here,” she tries to make you laugh again. When it doesn’t happen, the tone of her voice changes into something more serious, “I know everything feels safe and familiar here but you will grow to love your new life. Change is good.”

“I still feel like a child,” you lean back into her and stare down at the water that is growing colder, “You should have seen me trying to have a conversation with him yesterday. He is much older and more experienced than I am. I made a fool of myself not just once.”

“Listen to me, dearest,” she releases you from the confines of her arms and lifts your head to find your gaze in the mirror again, “I know that this is not a matter of love. I understand, my dear. This union is a great responsibility, but it can also be an even greater source of joy and strength for you. Your father and I have always wanted what’s best for you, even in situations where it might seem like it is only to our own advantage. Yet think about the possibilities this match will bring you; you will be the wife of a general. You can do anything.”

You nod with an understanding that is still marked by sorrow for the life you will leave behind, the dream of true love delivered by Cupid himself that will not be fulfilled now, “Yes, Mother.”

“And I will say this with confidence,” she continues, now with a gleam of pride in her eyes, “You are not a child, in fact, you have grown into a remarkable young woman. One that you can be very proud of. I know I am.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and eventually, you cannot hold back the breath of air that you have been holding. Your eyes are watery, your mouth grinning with teeth from being reassured so affectionately by your mother. You suppose that you can get through this day with those words playing on your mind, “You had that rehearsed, did you not?”

“Not at all, came straight from the heart,” she giggles and gets up from her seat. She walks to stand at your side, offering you her hand, “Now, let’s get you out of the tub and make you more beautiful than even Goddess Venus herself. Today is a celebration of everything you’ve become and everything you will achieve with your husband. However, remember that General Acacius is even more fortunate to have you and your heart by his side.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you step over the edge of the bathtub.

She wraps a linen cloth around you, “I’ll send for the flowers right away. The tailor has already been with your tunic this morning, I’ve had the maids hang it in your room.”

“Perfect,” you smile. You leave the bathroom while another ancilla - a maid - empties the tub, hangs the linen towel to dry, and mops excess water from the floor.

As you make your way back to your bedroom, you notice your home is abuzz with servants doing all sorts of tasks to ensure a perfect day. They pass you with kind smiles and congratulations, carrying wine in jugs and baskets of fruit and vegetables, freshly baked bread, and flowers for decorating.

You think back to Marcus’ beautiful garden, wondering how it is taking shape to be the venue for your union. The red roses are sure to compliment your red veil, the marble the golden embroidery on your tunic too.

But then, as you enter your room, you think about Cassius’ words from last night. In less than a day, you will belong to one of the most powerful families in all of the empire and despite this, it sounded like it did not ensure you the safety that your father had foreseen with this match. Quite the contrary, it seems like you are getting into something that’ll wash the pink and fluffy clouds away.

However, the concerned thoughts last only a moment as your gaze falls on the beautiful tunic hanging on the wall, just out of the sun’s rays. You smile and sigh, brushing the woven fabric delicately with your hand. It is long and white, embroidered with squared patterns along the shoulder seams and down the short sleeves. You know that Marcus’ own attire will have the same stitching and color, signaling that the two of you are weaved together from now on.

The veil hangs beside it and is as red as the fires that you have seen built for sacrifices to the Gods. Your mother has taught you enough during wedding preparations for you to know exactly what it is supposed to symbolize; you will be given to General Acacius today and you will belong to him in the same manner as the many gifts that have been given to the many Roman deities, like the coin you tossed in the fountain for Fortuna.

After taking the tunic off the hook on the wall, you let the linen around your body fall to the floor and slip your wedding attire on. You sit down on the chair by your vanity and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, staring at the woman you have become in such a short time.

You adjust the neckline of the garment, smoothing out any crease that makes you seem less than perfect and then you grab your hairbrush to start detangling your hair. After having brushed your hair for a while and getting lost in the mindless task, a knock on your door distracts your thoughts.

You quickly get up to hurriedly step behind the room divider in the corner, not wanting to reveal your look before it has gotten its final touches or in case the person seeking entry is your father.

“Come in,” you say when you are hidden from view.

However, it is your mother again who carries the wedding crown, which has now gotten beautiful jasmine flowers weaved into it. From the sound of the different footsteps, you deduce that she is followed by two servant girls who have come to help you with the remaining details of your outfit.

“I brought Lupa and Nidia to help you,” she chirps, hands the wedding crown to Lupa with the utmost care, and then gently sits down on the chair by the vanity. She waits as the girls join you behind the screen, “Quickly now, we have to be ready to go in half an hour.”

Nidia has gotten the veil from its spot on the wall, now draping it over the top of your head while Lupa secures it with the flower crown. You can smell the jasmine, feel the soft fabric of the red veil brush your bare arms, and suddenly, the weight of today begins to bear down on your shoulders. You swallow thickly as you look at yourself in the full-body mirror. This summer has changed you since you got the news of your arranged union, and suddenly, as you look at yourself at this moment, you are surprised to see that a bride stares back at you.

“You look perfect,” Nidia says softly as if sensing your nervousness. She holds your gaze in the mirror and smiles a little when Lupa joins in with a happy, agreeing nod, the both of them adjusting the veil to cascade down your back gracefully.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully and relax a bit more. At least how you look is going to be talked about the most but then again, will this enhance your future husband’s desire? What will happen when he gets you alone in his chambers? You shake the thought, not used to the idea of being perceived in such a fashion even if you tasted the idea yesterday, “Okay, I think I am ready.”

As you step out from behind the divider, your mother radiates maternal pride and clasps her hands together, “Oh, by Venus, you are radiant! I don’t know what your father was doing with all his worry.”

You try not to overthink that statement and act casual, very much aware that you have not seen him today. Instead, you ask, “Where is father?”

“He has gone back and forth between our home and the General’s many times today. I suppose that he wants everything to be perfect for you and make you happy,” she keeps her voice high-pitched and cheerful but you can feel your gut telling you that she isn’t completely convinced either. She may have been making jest of you being the last of her daughters to marry but you know that your father sees you as more of a chess piece - the final move out of three - than his blood.

In your wedding attire, sparkling as Lupa gets the box of jewelry and Nadia adorns you in gold, you think again of the way your father had handled the negotiations of your marriage; how little concern he had shown for your thoughts on the matter, and, possibly without intending to, made it clear that this isn’t about love or even your happiness. It is about influence, power, and ascension to something right under the Gods.

“He’s always wanted things to be perfect for us,” you say with a forced smile, though your mother doesn’t seem to notice the strain on your face, “Ever since we were little, it was always about making sure we made the right connections, the right alliances.”

Your mother looks up at you, not quite as oblivious as she tries to convince you of. Her smile softens, “It’s just his way, my dear. He wants the best for you, for all of us, and you like the General! I can tell.”

The best for him, perhaps. You dare ask a question that can only exist between women who understand that you live in a world ruled by men. “Mother, do you think he would have arranged this if General Acacius had been… cruel?”

The silence that follows is thick, and in that moment, you realize that the answer may not be one you want to hear. You stare at her, brows furrowed as you wait for her to say something, but in the end, she avoids your gaze completely.

“It is time to leave,” she says instead and turns to Lupa and Nidia who have gone completely quiet, “My daughter needs escorting to the carriage. We cannot keep my husband waiting so close to the time of the ceremony.”

You swallow thickly but do not protest, a heavy feeling in your stomach as you are led out of your home, taking in the details of the surroundings that you grew up in for what feels like the last time.

—

Upon arrival at Marcus' estate, you are greeted by who you assume will be your new maid. Ismene is her name, a woman not much older than yourself but with rougher hands, the kind that have known hard labor. She wears a plain tunic and her hair tied back in a braid, curtsying as you step out of the carriage.

You hear your mother tell Lupa and Nidia to stay back in case it’ll insult Ismene that you have brought maids from your home but Ismene just smiles, her eyes flicking up at you as she bows to catch a glimpse of who she will be serving from now on.

“My lady,” she greets after stretching to her full height again, a twinkle in her gaze and a gut feeling telling you that she has no ill will towards you, “Everything is ready for you. The General has requested that you go to the gardens immediately where the ceremony will take place shortly.”

She leads you and your mother through the mansion that is as beautiful as you remember it from yesterday. Except this time, seemingly overnight, the home has been decorated to be fit for festivities later. Your mother walks beside you, her expression calm, but you know her enough by now to sense the tension beneath the surface. She glances around the estate with careful eyes, not having been here before since your father refused it, and is perhaps judging the wealth and power of the man you are about to marry. Maybe, she may even be worrying for you.

You must screen your face from the sun in the gardens, but you still cannot help but notice the red roses and the ivy snaking their way around the columns that surround the spot chosen for the ceremony. Their colors are striking and beautiful against the white marble, eliciting a gasp of awe from your mother. What you also cannot help but notice is the return of the flutter of excitement that stirs in your belly, one that feels out of place among your adult worries. Everything is even more gorgeous than you had imagined in your childhood daydreams.

“It’s beautiful, truly. The Gods have indeed favored us,” your mother praises in a whisper just as the three of you come to a halt. Ismene has stopped in her tracks just out of sight from the guests who are here to witness the marriage, and she is deliberately quiet to give you and your mother this last brief moment of privacy before everything changes.

Your mother reaches out to gently touch your arm. In response, you turn to her and are met with her warm and reassuring smile. She cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“Remember that father and I raised you to be strong,” she tells you with tears welling up in her eyes. You can feel your heart beating harshly against your chest as you recognize both fear and excitement on her face, and you suppose that there’s grief in her following this; her last child leaving home will be the end of her being needed.

“Te amo in aeternum, Mamma (I love you forever, Mom),” you only just manage to say as your throat feels tight and you can hear footsteps approaching.

You know it is your father by the commanding pace of the steps, the way the feet strike the earth with determination. He rounds the corner with a small smile on his lips as he sees you.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you and immediately holds his arm out for you to take. There’s urgency in his voice even if it is tender at the sight of you, “It is time.”

“Are you ready?” Your mother interrupts, earning a glance from her husband. His presence somehow looms larger after that question, as if he wants to scoff at the thought that you could ever say no. He shakes his arm with an impatient smile when you still have not taken his arm. Clearly, this is not a moment for lingering but a moment for you to fulfill your duty.

You swallow hard and then you turn to your father. With a nod, you place your arm through his, “I’m ready.”

“Then let us not keep the General waiting,” he smiles.

The wedding ceremony is swift and takes place underneath the blazing sun of Rome. Marcus Acacius stands at the altar, his tall and broad figure exuding strength and importance. You feel drawn to the way he looks as he watches you walk down the pathway between the guests, stoic and calm in an attire that matches yours. You feel reassured by him because of this strength, that if everything fails, he will catch you.

When you stop in front of him and your father nods in a way that feels transactional, you swear that you can see his eyes soften. The officiant drones on but you don’t hear a word, the thoughts of last night when you were alone in your bed flooding your mind and causing your heartbeat to drown out noise around you. You can still feel the warmth of your own touch between your legs and it’s so consuming of your attention that you suddenly hear someone clearing their throat.

“We will now perform the joining of hands, dear,” the officiant repeats and you can see that Marcus is already holding out his palm for you to place your own in. Your face is hot, your cheeks prickling with embarrassment but you recover by not letting it faze you. Marcus smiles ever so gently when your hand takes his and a leather band is wrapped around them. You say your promise to him like you have practiced so many times in the mirror back in your room.

Where he is your Gaius, you will be Gaia. Mother nature. The first goddess. The one who made sense of chaos.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.”

–

In the early evening, the festivities begin with a banquet that makes the ones your father has hosted in the past pale in comparison. There’s people and food and people eating the food everywhere. Goblets get continuously filled by servants and bread with oil, butter, and cheese gets restocked as soon as it might look like serving platters are emptying out. However, it is not envy that you see on your parents’ faces as they take in the long table that abounds in the season’s most beautiful flowers laid out in rich displays of colors, or the most expensive foods that are replenished before anyone can take notice of their shortages, but rather pride in your mother’s eyes and some sort of distasteful greed in your father’s.

It makes you think of Cassius again, the idea of his stomach growling as he makes his way home from laboring in the fields surrounding your village. He would hate this, you think to yourself, the sight of the uppermost elite of society stuffing their faces but not for nourishment.

You look down at your hands when you start to feel bad for thinking of another man while sitting right next to your new husband. Yet Marcus doesn’t seem to notice the way your shoulders slump. He smiles warmly at each congratulations that he receives while you sit at the end of the same long table and you’re surprised to see that it comes off as genuine each time. He graciously lifts his goblet of wine as thanks, nodding to the faces of men his own age who approach with offerings and gifts. You’ve seen them steal glances at you when they think others haven’t noticed.

You wonder if Marcus has, if he feels triumphant or enraged by the lingering appreciative stares that you receive right before they go back to their wine.

It is to be expected with how beautiful your mother has made you for this day, you say to yourself in your new state as an object of desire, but still, you are without much appetite from being stared at. It makes you think of your wedding night and the duty that lies within it. As a comfort, you reach for your goblet of wine frequently throughout the evening and completely ignore the delicious smell of roasted meats and the sight of shiny green grapes and berries that you have on your plate. Right now, they make you feel sick.

Sensing your discomfort, Marcus holds his hand up to stop an approaching guest and turns his attention to you. His gaze follows the movement of your hand as you lift the goblet to your slightly-stained lips once more. Gently, he reaches out and covers your hand with his, taking the cup away from you.

“No more wine. I don’t want you to feel unwell on our night together,” he says simply and firmly but there’s affection in his command, a concern for your wellbeing. It’s the first time that you see a glimpse of the man you met yesterday. He makes you fold quickly, nod with embarrassment as you in return stare sheepishly at him while he sets down the goblet out of your reach.

“Of course, my legatus,” you hurry to say, remembering how your mother had urged you to show respect by referring to his rank. You offer him a hesitant smile, “You’re right.”

“I know this is not easy for a maiden as young as you, and I must admit that it is all very overwhelming even for me,” he gives you a smile in return, allowing himself to show brief vulnerability to ease your mind, “But there’s no need to dull your senses, Carrissima.”

“It was not my intention to make you feel like I was unappreciative—“

“I did not think you were,” he interrupts before you can tear yourself down in an effort to humble yourself. He places a hand on yours underneath the table, “Are you pleased with the celebration? I never notice if others are enjoying the festivities. I admit I seek solitude more often than company in these situations.”

“It is beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you reply with a nod and realize that you find the conversation less terrifying now. You blame your ease on the amount of wine you have already consumed, “If you want reassurance, a woman can always tell if people are enjoying themselves.”

“And what is your verdict?” Marcus brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. You hide the shiver that goes up your spine, breathe deeply to steady your heart after it has skipped at least a few beats. He must know what his touch does to you after feeling it yesterday.

A burst of laughter from a table nearby catches both of your attention. A group of guests are engaged in lighthearted discussions, chatting cheerfully with each other and getting up when the musicians strike up a song made for dancing.

You observe them for a moment before turning back to Marcus again, but before you can answer, a man approaches your table with what you assume is more congratulations. You make a mental note to be more present in this, to show your husband and his guests that you are in favor of the union. However, the man leans in close to Marcus, whispering something in his ear.

You notice a subtle shift in Marcus’s demeanor; the previous warmth in his eyes momentarily replaces itself with a focused seriousness. He nods at the messenger, who quickly slips away into the crowd before you can even register what he looks like.

“Is everything all right?” You ask with curiosity and concern.

“Yes, nothing to worry about. Just a small matter that needed my attention. I apologize for the interruption,” he assures you but hardly satisfies your curiosity. The seriousness vanishes completely in favor of softness as soon as he looks at you again, “Forgive me for forgetting but I must compliment the jasmine flowers in your wedding crown. They suit my bride perfectly.”

The sudden change in his tone makes your heart flutter, and you realize how intentional his words are, as if to draw you back into the moment with him. You reach up to feel the soft petals of the flowers with your fingertips. You smile genuinely at him, shy from the compliment, “It was already weaved this morning but I remembered you mentioning that jasmine is your favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You remembered our conversation.”

“I wanted to show that I was attentive,” you reply, feeling a connection that wasn’t there just a moment before.

“You’ve certainly succeeded,” he replies with a pleased grin at being surprised by you.

The sunset has crept up on you while you have been in conversation with Marcus for a while, the plate in front of you suddenly having been emptied by you without much thought. You only register the darkness of the night when guests have started to get up from their seats to say goodbye and go home, and panic starts to rise in your throat when the crowd thins out enough for Marcus to send the rest home.

You've known this night would come, and yet as you get up from your seat, standing right in the middle of all the many tables, it feels like it is brand new information that comes hurtling towards you and frightens you even further.

With a lump in your throat, you watch the last few faces take their leave, observing how Marcus says goodbye to what you assume are the most important guests.

When everything is quiet except for the servants’ footsteps, your parents approach you. Your mother is the first to talk, her eyes glistening with pride.

“My dear, it’s been a wonderful celebration,” she says, gently squeezing you in an embrace. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’m so grateful you were here to share it with me,” you reply, accepting her embrace warmly and almost desperately due to your anxiety. You can feel her tense up when she realizes that you are hugging her to soothe yourself but she doesn’t say anything.

Your father stands by quietly. He only nods approvingly when Marcus joins the three of you, “A splendid event. We’re confident our daughter is in good hands.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully, “You have my word that she is.”

Your father turns to you, his expression of importance softening just a bit, “Remember what we’ve taught you, my daughter. Honor and family are paramount.”

“I understand, Father,” you assure him, avoiding his eyes. The surprisingly cool interaction between father and daughter catches Marcus’ attention, and the step he takes closer to you is almost unnoticeable. You feel his arm accidentally brushing yours but you swear that there’s a sort of protectiveness in the featherlight touch even if it is unintentional. It makes exchanging farewells easier.

“Perhaps we should retire as well,” he suggests when your parents are out of sight, “Goddess Nox has already spread her veil across the sky for a while.”

"Yes, I suppose it is time,” you glance up at the stars above, feeling the cool night air against your skin. You wish he would ground you like before.

The both of you make your way to your shared chambers. The short walk feels longer than it should, the weight of the moment pressing down on you with each step. You glance at your husband as he walks beside you, his calm and steady demeanor sharply in contrast with the growing nervousness inside you. The walls of the corridor are lined with flickering torches, and they seem to stretch on endlessly. Though nothing lasts forever and eventually you come to a halt, the door in front of you leading you to your wedding night.

This is it.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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winchesterwild78 · 2 days

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Elevator Encounter pt 1

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader, and readers friends

Warnings: Panic Attack, Jensen being a sweetheart, Fluff

A/N: This was another idea given to me by my sweet friend @cheekygirl2309. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t depict real life. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. Jensen is single. Just Jensen being sweet and comforting. I’m going to my first convention in about 2 weeks, and I’m really hoping I don’t have a panic attack in Jensen’s presence. 😂

Might be a few chapters. :)

*Trigger Warning* Mention of panic attacks

Minors DNI 18+

The fluorescent lights of the convention center flickered overhead as we piled into the elevator, laughter echoing off the mirrored walls. My best friends, Sarah and Emily, were buzzing about the latest cosplay they'd seen, their voices a comforting hum against the backdrop of the bustling crowd. I was starting to feel the weight of the day, the constant stimulation of the convention finally catching up to me.

We were heading to eat dinner at a local restaurant and grab some drinks. As the evening wore on, laughter filled our table. We talked about the day and how we were excited about the photo ops the next day. I was exhausted and wanted to head to the room.

"I think I'll call it a night," I announced, yawning. "I'm exhausted."

"Are you sure? We could grab some drinks at the bar," Sarah suggested.

"No, I'm good. I'll just head back to the room."

Finally getting back to the hotel, I stepped into the elevator, a wave of panic washed over me. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breath came in shallow gasps. I tried to calm myself, focusing on my breathing, but the fear was overwhelming.

The weight of the day and the nerves of the next day came crashing over me.

Suddenly, I realized I wasn't alone. Standing to the side was a figure, obscured by the dim light. As my eyes adjusted, I gasped. It was Jensen Ackles.

He must have sensed my distress, because he stepped closer. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Jensen nodded understandingly. "It's okay. Take your time. Just focus on your breathing and on my voice."

He guided me to a corner of the elevator. As I tried to regulate my breathing, Jensen's presence was a calming influence. He spoke softly, asking me about my favorite episodes of "Supernatural" and sharing stories about his time on the show.

Slowly, the panic began to subside. When I finally felt able to breathe normally, Jensen smiled at me. "You're doing great," he said. "Want to grab a drink? Sometimes, a little distraction helps."

I hesitated, but the thought of a quiet conversation with Jensen was appealing. I nodded, and together, we stepped out of the elevator and into the night.

He took my hand and guided me into the bar. We sat at the back in a corner booth. Drinks were ordered and we made small talk.

I never thought I’d be sitting in a bar having an intimate conversation with Jensen about life. He was so easy to talk to, and made all my anxiety disappear.

About an hour into the night, my phone went off.

Sarah: Hey, where are you?? I came back to the room and you weren’t here.

Me: I had a panic attack and needed some air. I’m fine. I’ll be back later.

Sarah: Where are you and I’ll come sit with you. Are you okay? Do you need your medicine?

Me: I’m fine, I don’t need my meds. It passed. You just get some sleep, don’t want dark circles under your eyes for the photo ops. 😘

Sarah: If you’re sure you’re fine….

Me: I’m perfect. Love you girl.

Sarah: Okay. Love you too. Don’t pick up any hot celebrities.

My breath hitched when I read her last text, and my eyes shot up to Jensen.

“Sorry about that. My friend was checking on me.” He smiled softly and took my hand, “It’s okay. Do you need to go?”

I shook my head no. “No, I’m fine. Besides, I want to hear more about you.”

The two of us sat and talked for about another hour. I could tell he was tired but didn’t want to say anything. He was still worried about me.

“Jensen, I know you have to be on stage in a few hours. Why don’t we head back. We both need some sleep.”

Jensen yawned and stretched. As he stretched the bottom of his shirt lifted, revealing a little bit of his torso. My heart leaped in my chest and I swallowed hard.

We paid our tab and Jensen placed his hand on the small of my back guiding me into the night air.

It was chilly, but I could feel the warmth radiating from Jensen. I shivered. It was brought on by the chilly air and Jensen’s touch. My mind was racing with different thoughts and emotions.

Arriving back at the hotel Jensen guided me around the back. “It’ll be easier getting in this way. It’s a special VIP access.” He shot me his killer smile. I chuckled, “I like it.”

“What room are you in,” Jensen asked. “I’m in room 314.” He nodded, took my hand and led me into an elevator, pushing floor 3.

While in the elevator a pregnant silence fell between us. I broke the silence, “Jensen, thank you for helping me earlier. It means so much to me that you cared enough to help.” He stepped closer, “Can I hug you?” He asked. I swallowed hard and shook my head yes. He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me into a hug that I felt through my whole body.

My breath hitched and I smiled. “Hey, let me get your number. I want to check on you throughout the convention if that’s okay.” I couldn’t believe he wanted to check on me. I handed him my phone and he sent himself a text. “Now you have my number too, in case you need some help.”

“Wow, Jensen. That’s incredibly kind of you. I swear I won’t share your number.” I smiled. “Good, because I don’t just give it to anyone.” “It’s safe with me, Jensen.”

The elevator dinged indicating we had arrived at my floor. “Guess this is me, thanks again Jensen.” He stepped out of the elevator with me, “What kind of gentlemen would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?”

A blush filled my cheeks. The two of us stepped out and he placed his hand on my lower back again. His touch was soft, but very present. When the two of us arrived at my room I looked up at Jensen. “I had a great time tonight, thank you again for helping me with my panic attack earlier. It’s so embarrassing to have had one in front of you.” Jensen stepped closer, cupping my face, “No, darlin’ don’t ever be embarrassed by something like that. I’ve had them too, and so has Jared. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I nodded. He leaned in and kissed my cheek softly, “Good night, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Good night, Jensen. I can’t wait for our photo op tomorrow.” He smiled at me and started to walk away. I stood at the door for a few minutes, watching him walk down the hallway.

He turned around before getting on the elevator and smiled at me. I smiled, waved and went into my room.

Trying to be quiet I grabbed my clothes and went into the bathroom to change. My phone buzzed.

Jensen: Good night again. I hope you sleep good

Me: Good night Jensen, I hope you do too.

I smiled as I started to change my clothes. My phone buzzed again.

Jensen: What are you doing?

Me: changing and getting ready for bed. What are you doing?

Jensen: Laying in bed. I can’t sleep

Me: Have you even tried? 😂

Jensen: You got me. I haven’t.

Me: Well maybe you should put your phone down and try.

Jensen: I could, but I don’t want to. I’d have to stop talking to you.

I blushed as I read his text. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t believe Jensen was texting me and didn’t want to stop.

Me: Nothing says you have to. I just don’t want to interfere with your schedule tomorrow.

Jensen: You’re not interfering with anything, sweetheart. So tell me about yourself.

Jensen and I texted for about 2 hours. I told him all about me and he talked about himself too. My eyes were getting heavier and I knew I was exhausted.

Me: Jensen we really should go to sleep.

Jensen: Yeah. I need my beauty sleep. 😂

Me: So you’re going to sleep for 5 minutes. 😁

Jensen: Ha! Something like that.

Me: Good night for real this time.

Jensen: Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.

Me: Sweet dreams to you too.

Jensen: 😘

Me: 🤭😘

My heart fluttered in my chest. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Was Jensen flirting or just being nice?

Guess I have to wait and see. I put my phone on the charger and rolled over letting sleep take over. As I drifted off to sleep I thought about Jensen and how soft his lips were on my cheek. They felt amazing.

*Jensen’s POV*

I put my phone down and thought about her. She’s beautiful. So easy to talk to, and she’s funny. I can’t wait to see her later and get her in my arms.

I run my hands through my hair. What am I doing? I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she was so vulnerable in the middle of her panic attack, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed and the blush that filled her face when I kissed her cheek.

Damn, Jensen. Get it together man. She’s probably got a man in her life. A girl like her, no way she’s single.

I rolled over and started to drift off to sleep, thinking about her and the photo op we have later. Maybe she’ll let me pick the pose and I can hold her in my arms again.

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

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@ladykitana90

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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persefida · 2 days

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I'm rewatching Steven Universe and look! I found my old sketches when the Future just came out!

These are from Future season. Oh boy, it's something else. I was so exciting to wait for each episodes and experience them with many other people online. It's the best continuation of the show. You know when part 2 of any film is worse than the first one, like they just try to repeat the success of the first part? Well, SUF is not like that. People already know the characters and their stories. So SUF doesn't need to reintroduce anyone and brings subjects straight to the point.

I loved every single episode. The "Mr. Universe" song is just a side song that's not even complete but it's one of my favorite of the entire SU series!

The episode with Steven's proposal hit hard, especially now. Because I get it. I was at my lowest point and was wanting something good in my life so bad. I couldn't get any job and couldn't lose weight even though I was trying really hard to do both. Me and at that time boyfriend already were living together, the marriage was just a matter of time. So, one night when we were about to sleep, I asked him if he wants to get married. And he agreed. Just like that. I barely had some energy and managed to organize a small wedding as best as I could at that time. We're still married many years after and I never doubted my choice. It's just... I was dreaming of a beautiful proposal and big wedding my hole life, and it's sad that it went like that. Proposal when you're at your lowest and you just want something good in your life thinking that it will solve your problems. I still can't look at the happy wedding photos of other people.

Oh, and the ending of the show! We're in migration right now, and the ending gave me so much hope. We don't know where we're going to live. But we will start a brand new life and we'll make it good. We'll be wiser. It's an opportunity to live better.

Summarizing all this, yes. I like the show.

#art #steven universe #steven universe fanart #steven universe future

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mariaofdoranelle · 3 days

Text

You should stay in my good graces

Written for Rowaelin Month, songfic day @rowaelinscourt

Sabrina Carpenter once said: “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete.”

Warnings: none I think? Some heavy petting but still safe for work lol

Words: 3,5k

Aelin Galathynius Seen At Football Game As Fans Continue To Wait For Album Release

“You do know he won’t want you for more than a night, right?” Lysandra asked while Aelin looked for Rowan Whitethorn at the afterparty with hawk-like precision.

“I hope so, yes,” she replied.

Aedion’s groan was loud even with the club’s music and hooting.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find the team captain at a game afterparty, but looking for someone she didn’t know in person wasn’t the best thing to do at crowded, massive, and poorly-lit nightclub.

Rowan Whitethorn. All she knew were his piercing green eyes that made her memorize his face even through a picture, and that he was a player in and out of the field. His reputation preceded him. The only thing Aelin could judge him was for how hot he is, though the media diagnosed him as an ‘incorrigible womanizer’ while experts called him the greatest football player of this generation.

And most importantly, her ex-boyfriend’s favorite active athlete.

“Are you sure you want to keep up with this?” Aedion asked, glancing between her and the crowd. “You weren’t even that into Chaol.”

Aelin sipped her margarita and shrugged. “This isn’t about my feelings towards him, it’s about his disrespect towards me.”

She knew her cousin well enough to know that he wasn’t comfortable leaving Aelin alone, half-drunk and mini-skirted at a bar filled with strangers, and Aedion knew her well enough to know she was carrying on with her plan anyway.

Lysandra proceeded to blabber about cultural differences between hot dogs from every country she’s been in with Aelin for this last tour, and Aedion ate it up with rapt attention. Aelin, however, looked around in a way her friend saw right through, feigning boredom to search for the one person she was here for tonight.

She couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but she could easily see how the crowd’s pattern shifted like the Red Sea parting for someone with a presence as strong as a team captain’s. Aelin saw people move and heads turn before seeing the man himself, and that’s how she found her target.

It was so easy to spot the difference between the moment he saw her from the moment he noticed her—a millisecond was enough to spot the blooming glint in the eyes of an archer who’s just found his prey.

The look of womanizer who’s just found a maneater in sheep’s clothing.

One, two—a slow smile—three, four. One polite tug and his gaze was drawn away, but she kept eye contact for long enough to get his attention.

“It’s done,” she told Lysandra and Aedion by the high bar table. Their reactions were much different—one excited, the other reluctant—but they knew it was their cue to leave.

Rowan knew where to find her, now all she had to do was wait. Aelin wasn’t so desperate she’d chase a man.

Her ex, Chaol, was never at these events to avoid his father—the CFO of one of the companies that sponsored the White Hawks—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sport. He watched every single game with Dorian, and Rowan Whitethorn’s autograph had a special spot in his hallway, among other framed signed jerseys from his favorite athletes.

Yes, Aelin googled every single one from that wall. The list wasn’t too big, and after crossing off every one that was dead or too old for her, the problematic ones, and the married ones… let’s say there was barely a list after what was supposed to be an initial selection, and she almost gave up on the plan. Aelin might be looking for someone to sleep with to get back at Chaol, but that didn’t mean she’d sleep with anyone just for the sake of revenge. Ew.

She got lucky that Chaol’s favorite athlete in their age group looked this cute.

One day, she’s going steady with her three-month long situationship; the next, her publicist calls her in the middle of a family dinner to tell her Chaol was caught looking way too cozy with another girl. They’d never discussed exclusivity in their relationship, so something they could’ve figured out in a conversation turned into something bigger because he was stupid enough to be photographed.

And if Aelin’s humiliation was public, Chaol’s payback would be too.

A hand on Aelin’s shoulder caught her attention—it was meant to only call her attention, but now the man kept a steady grasp on her that slid down to her elbow.

A pair of dark brown eyes assessed her with curiosity. “Aelin Galathynius,” he said, eyes now trailing down to the long stretch of exposed skin of her legs.

Aelin yanked her elbow back and was about to ask who this creep was, but didn’t get to it.

“Cairn.” She heard the name in a deep voice, but didn’t see his mouth move. A hand reached his shoulder from behind, and another man—the man she was looking for—stepped into their circle. He was even more magnetic up close.

“What.” Cairn said to his captain, terse.

“Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Is it about that foul?”

“Gotta ask him, man.”

Cairn gave Aelin one last look, then sighed and left off—resigned yet pissed.

Rowan took his time, alcohol-free beer in hand while he maintained a steady presence by her side. In that moment, Aelin decided that photoshop and celebrity takes did him no favors.

From the line between his brows the magazines smoothed out to that look he gave his teammate—not a disappointed-yet-resigned one with the politeness publicists groomed into public personas, but the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t above bypassing his teammate in order to get it. The person she saw online was a polished version of the little part of the man she met now, and Aelin just happened to like him best rougher around the edges.

“Did he?” she said.

“Did he what?”

“Did Gavriel want to talk to him?”

Rowan smirked. Took a slow sip of his drink. “The thing about Coach Gav—if one of his players is there to listen, he always has an advice to give.”

He might as well have said ‘no’. Though he didn’t have to—even if Aelin wasn’t focused on taking Whitethorn to bed tonight, that Cairn person’s vibes were all off, she wouldn’t have given him any attention either way.

“I’m Rowan.”

“I know.” She giggled. “If I’m crashing a game afterparty, I should at least know the captain’s name.”

Not exactly crashing, since every man in her family was usually invited to this kind of sports thing, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance you’re someone I should know,” he said with an apologetic expression.

She never found this offensive. When a good portion of the world was bombarded with Aelin’s name whether they want it or not, finding someone oblivious to her existence was somewhat refreshing.

“I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he trailed with a faraway look in his eye. “Aelin, Aelin, Aelin…” The turning engines inside his head were clear as day until it clicked. “Aelin! From that Yulemas special, right?”

Aelin burst out laughing. She had been lucky enough throughout her career that none of her work could ever be called a ‘flop’, but that Yulemas special was the closest thing she had to it. The show was good enough and so was the viewership, but let’s say she did not sign up for another one the next year.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a confused, but mostly amused look.

“You’re the first person I meet that knows me because of that Yulemas special, that’s all.”

Rowan ducked his chin, and Aelin was sure that blush on his cheek was just the strobe lights tricking her eyes. “I don’t really keep up with social media, or celebrity stuff… or anything that isn’t work, actually. But my cousins put that show on every Yulemas dinner.”

Aelin grinned. “That’s sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself because the song shifted to something even louder, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When it subsided, he leaned closer and said, “Can I take you to a booth upstairs?”

Aelin reared back to read his face. “Just a booth?” she asked with one brow quirked up.

“Just a private booth.”

A slow smirk danced on her lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Rowan pointed to the general direction they were going and trailed behind her, but his hand found her back and stayed there when he noticed the sets of eyes following Aelin around the club—marking his territory.

However, they came to an abrupt stop when one of his teammates quite literally ran their way.

“Rowie!” Moonbeam shouts, trying to get Rowan’s attention. “D’you have spare pants?”

The man stared, motionless. “What?”

His teammate turned around and pointed at the ripped seam on his bottom that exposed his underwear. “Got an extra pair or not?”

“How in hell did you—“

“It’s the DJ’s fault!”

Partying too hard, then. Aelin didn’t know Fenrys Moonbeam personally, but he was known to keep it as classy as a wannabe D-lister at their first Grammy afterparty—except he was a world-class athlete.

The man’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Aelin, and he pointed at his butt again and said, “Can you sew this for me?”

“Dude.” Rowan cut him off, eyes hard as steel.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“What did I do?”

“That’s fucking sexist, man.”

Fenrys gaped. He looked between her and Rowan, then flailed his arms in an empty gesture, fumbling to articulate himself. “I didn’t just see a chick and ask her to sew, she went to fashion school!”

Rowan blinked, then sent her a confused look.

“I did,” Aelin said between giggles. “Find me a thread and needle and I’ll fix it.”

Fenrys went off with his new quest, and Rowan took her upstairs. When Aelin asked him about his friend finding them again, he just grumbled something about ‘the boyo’ always finding him whether Rowan wants it or not.

The private booths were much more comfortable—with softer music and table service, the atmosphere was quite different from the dance floor’s madness.

“I really need to write a new single if the Yulemas show and fashion school is what I’m being referenced for these days,” Aelin said after they were settled.

Rowan oh-so-smoothly sneaked his arm around her. “That’s what you’re doing now? Writing?”

“Writing feels like a too-strong word for what I’m doing now,” she said with a slight grimace. “Let’s say I’m torturing my piano while my manager sends me contacts to write it all for me and get the album out in time.”

He frowned. “Can you do that? Hire other people to write it for you, I mean.”

Aelin laughed—she didn’t mean to, it just tore out of her. He was so oblivious to her line of work, it was endearing.

Rowan just picked another one of his alcohol-free beer, not seeming to be offended about her reaction. “That’s also public knowledge I’m clueless about, isn’t it?”

Aelin bit her lower lip and gave him an amused look that hopefully was answer enough. Then held both hands up and said, “Look, all I know about football is that the ball goes in the goal, and I look cute in your team’s colors. Nothing else.” She tapped the side of her head. “Nada.”

“That can’t be true.” His face was an inch closer to hers now.

“Maybe I need some teaching,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips.

This. This is where he slips. This is how Aelin finds the first red flag before he lured her into his lips. Because red flags are the trail of breadcrumbs she leaves to not lose herself in a man, and she needed them more than anything now that she was enjoying herself too much for a revenge plan. Please, big hot guy, please mansplain to me your favorite sport.

Instead, he held her neck—the goosebumps down her body were due to the cold temperature, she was sure—and murmured back, “But I doubt you want to learn now.”

Oh, shit. Before her mind even registered it, she held his cheek and tugged his lips into hers, the soft feel of his pillowy—

“Rowie!” They heard Fenrys before he was in their sight, kiss broken—half-kiss, actually. The man sighed when he found their booth and plopped on the seat next to Aelin, sandwiching her between the two players.

“Turns out management keeps an emergency sewing kit,” he said, baffled. “Can you believe it?”

“I really can’t,” Rowan grumbled.

“Now if you excuse me… Aelin, could you…?” Fenrys trailed, pointing at the wall.

She complied and stared at the wall until granted permission to look back. When she did, Fenrys held his pants with one hand and a towel around his hips with another.

She grabbed the piece of clothing and did a quick work of it. Her days of fashion school were long gone, but muscle memory got her on it like time wasn’t even a thing.

Rowan still looked a bit grumpy about Fenrys’ intrusion, but she didn’t blame him. They kinda got cockblocked, but Whitethorn’s was kinda doing it for her.

“How did you even know she went fashion school?” he asked.

It was public knowledge about her, but the kind not even the casual fans knew. And if Rowan was asking, his teammate must not be a die-hard fan.

Fenrys smirked at Aelin. “I memorize a few random facts about you to impress the ladies.”

Aelin chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. She knew this move existed, but no one that used it had been so bold to say it to her face.

She handed the pair of pants back to Fenrys, and kept her eyes closed while he put it back on and blabbered something about his brother mocking him forever after this.

“I think we all will, Boyo,” Rowan said. “Now get lost.”

“Thanks, Aelin!” he said with a salute on his way out. “I’m streaming your next album so hard—it’ll be another #1!”

Aelin groaned and sagged back on her seat, but only Rowan was there to see it.

“Are you really triggered by any mention of your next album?”

She shrugged. “Nah, just being dramatic.” Aelin put her hands on his shoulders, slowly so she’d feel his pecs on her way up. “But I’d feel better if you didn’t speak at all.”

His lips met hers for another kiss, and it tore into her bloodstream like discovering a new favorite melody, his mouth on hers as he tilted her head to taste her better. Aelin ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair while Rowan tugged her body closer, ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her legs.

A miniskirt wasn’t the most practical attire, but it did prevent her from being stupid sometimes—if it wasn’t for the looming threat of accidentally flashing the whole VIP section of the club, Aelin would be in Rowan’s lap by now.

Rowan grabbed the hair by her nape to allow him space on her neck, and Aelin just shut her eyes closed to let that man and his wicked mouth draw every shiver he wanted out of her. With his hands on her body and his lips on her neck, she let her guard down and allowed him something she rarely gave other men—consent to play her like his favorite instrument, walls as down as her panties if this was his way of taking control.

His trail of kisses went upwards, from her collarbone to her ear. “I was thinking—“

“You’re really hot and all, but I don’t sneak into club bathrooms.”

The low rumble of his throat as he chuckled was so sinful Aelin felt it between her thighs. “I don’t drink Dom Pérignon in plastic cups, baby.” Rowan whispered, his breath fanning her ear in a maddening way. “And I like to savor it—let the taste linger on my tongue.”

All her thoughts vanished. Aelin only had half a mind to ask, “You drive?”

She’d come with Aedion, wherever he is now.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just…” Rowan grabbed a napkin to remove the lipstick that was supposed to be kiss-proof—it did a better job than most, but it still smudge his cupid’s bow and bottom lip.

“That’s Pat McGrath, babe. You’ll need it surgically removed.”

Rowan frowned. “Pat McAfee?”

Their exit was quite different from when they entered the VIP section. Rowan’s possessive-yet-polite grasp on her fully left the latter part, greedily taking hold of her on their way out. He also brushed aside two teammates that sought him, likely afraid of being interrupted by them like Moonbeam did.

The valet was already outside with his car when Rowan noticed the paparazzi outside. He looked at them and back at Aelin, brows furrowed in thought.

“I usually just go,” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you usually— what do you want me to do?”

“I’m a big girl. Let’s do this.” Aelin squared her shoulders and quickly fixed her hair.

The flashes were a dizzying contrast to the club’s dark ambience, but Rowan kept her steady with one hand protectively on her back, trying and failing to shield her from the onslaught of cameras.

He opened the passenger door for her and ran to the driver’s side, and soon the madness faded out, leaving just the two of them and the soft music on the radio.

As the mood settled and the city lights became blurs around them, it dawned on Aelin that she was about to be unwrapped, bended and spread out by a man who was too dreamy for his own good—the worst kind in the long run.

What was she doing? Aelin wasn’t even the one-night stand type—she wasn’t used to long relationships either, but that wasn’t the point. The “incriminating” pictures of her with Rowan were taken and out soon, and Chaol—whose existence she completely forgot about—would be pissed already.

Aelin steadied herself for what she was about to do, red flag on the floor for him to pick up and wave once she did it.

“I have a counteroffer.”

“Do tell.”

“You drop me off at my apartment on Goldryn St, and I’ll see you around.”

If Rowan was pissed or offended, he didn’t show. Instead, he quickly studied her expression, a bit confused, but once her face didn’t waver, he gave his car screen a pointed look and asked her to type her address in the GPS.

Aelin did vow that she would never settle for anything less than a green flag collector, she didn’t know why it was so unsettling to see one live.

Not that she would settle anytime soon, it was just something that crossed her mind.

Even if she was willing to have a fling with Rowan, she didn’t regret turning him down tonight. If a man wasn’t willing to chase a girl he fancied, what was he chasing in life?

The car pulled up at the building’s entrance, empty except for the doorman by the glass doors. No paps in sight.

Rowan’s jaw fell. “This is too peaceful, even for a spare home.”

“That’s actually my dad’s apartment, for when he has a late work night and doesn’t feel like making the drive home.”

No doubt Aelin’s own home would be absolute mayhem after tonight, that’s why her dad left his safe haven at her disposal.

“Your dad…?”

“He’s in politics.”

Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, earning him a laugh from her.

“But we don’t wanna ruin our goodbyes by talking politics, do we?” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan jumped from his seat and circled his car to open the passenger door for her and gave her a hand to help her stand up. Except he didn’t let go. He kept her hand gently yet firmly clutched to his and brought it to his lips, giving her knuckles a chivalrous kiss while his eyes looked borderline devilish.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, repeating her exact words from the ‘counteroffer’.

She grinned. “I’ll see you around.”

Aelin walked the few steps to the building, but stopped before the front door and turned to take a glimpse of him. Rowan stayed leaned against his car, arms crossed while he waited for her to walk in.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile and watched his serene grin turn sly.

Aelin saw right through his chivalry, the dangerous promise hidden beneath looking near transparent to her eyes.

Aelin Galathynius Watches With Rowan Whitethorn Play Amid Chaol Westfall Breakup Rumors

Aelin Galathynius’ Fans Spot ‘Lipstick Smudge’ On Rowan Whitethorn After White Hawks’ Afterparty

Rowan Whitethorn Follows Aelin Galathynius On Instagram After Rendezvous With The Singer!

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days

Note

Your writing is very pretty and I’m amazed at all your stories! This one is a mixed bag of sad feelings, and hopeful wishes ahah but -

What if Donna and female reader have been in a relationship for some time now and are very comfortable together. But lately Donna has been putting in less effort in the relationship. Reader spoils Donna, does most of the cooking, makes time for Donna, tries to do all of the things Donna likes and whenever Donna wants something or feels Reader could do better Reader tries to be better because she loves Donna. This used to be an effort they were both doing, but lately it feels like Donna is withdrawn and isolating from Reader and barely even speaks to her no matter what Reader tries to do. They don’t even make love anymore or cuddle. Eventually Reader begins to get a bit used to this and a bit sad and withdrawn from feeling like she is the one maintaining their relationship. After an encounter with Alcina, in which something happens that shows Donna that Reader is desirable to other people, and someone else is willing to put in the effort to make Reader happy, Donna FINALLY sees what this isolating behavior has been doing to them and makes a tremendous effort to show Reader she cares. All of the romantic gestures (flowers, spoiling Reader, writing her love letters, all sorts of romantic things), and a tremendous effort to seduce Reader and make her swoon in Donna’s arms while Donna makes sure that Reader knows she is loved and belongs only with Donna.

Ending in a romantic, and smutty scene possibly with a G!P Donna if you’re comfortable with that.

Again, your writing is tremendous and I’m excited to read every new one you make!

- A very tired Reader

Yesssss!!!!! Thank you for your kind words, and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))))

A bucket of flowers

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, angst, fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,747

Summary: Who is sending you those beautiful flowers?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

It might seem like it was a night like any other and it certainly was, but for you no day was the same as the previous one, they were all different, endless opportunities and occasions to show her the love you felt.

“Oh, the fool made a cake, congratulations,” the Angie doll mocked, keeping you company in your long cooking sessions.

“It's not a cake, my friend, it's the cake, do you understand?” you asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow, decorating that culinary masterpiece.

“Oh… The cake…” the puppet murmured, staring at you while you checked that everything was perfect. “It doesn't seem special to me.”

“Well… You should know that it's Donna's favorite cake,” you said with a smile, taking off your apron, ready to enjoy what you always saw as a romantic dinner, a special occasion for the two of you.

“Ugh, there you go with your cheesy stuff again…” the doll protested, moving away from the cake, with a softer tone.

“I like to spoil Donna, is there a problem?” you asked amused, taking the cake and walking out of the kitchen, with the doll following you closely.

“I guess there isn’t,” Angie said, shrugging and comically moving ahead of you, almost making you trip.

Humming happily you went up the elevator, where the lady was waiting for you sitting at the table with that same serious expression, one that you had been struggling to change for a long time.

“Why did you take so long?” Donna asked as you approached slowly.

Normally those words didn't have that hoarse, listless tone, that horrible tone you hated and thought you would never hear again.

“I'm sorry, honey, I was just making this,” you said, ignoring her impatience and showing the cake to the woman in black, who glanced at it as you set it down on the table. “Do you like it?”

“Mm,” she murmured, nodding listlessly and starting to eat without waiting for you.

At first it was hard for you to get used to Donna's lack of manners, her apparent lack of interest in everything you did but... Little by little, you understood that it was your new routine.

“I followed your advice and I was very careful with the sugar,” you commented, sitting in front of her, who didn't even make an effort to look you in the eyes.

“Sure,” Donna murmured, serving you a glass of wine with a tired sigh.

“Yes... Uh... I hope, I hope you like the soup,” you said with a shy smile, seeing how she seemed to ignore every phrase you said, without stopping eating.

Her face sketched a brief smile, but long enough for your spirit to calm down and you began to eat too, observing every gesture the brunette made.

Dinner passed in silence, exchanging glances from time to time. They were indecipherable, confused and flat glances. Her bright eye said nothing, yours were always happy to coincide with it.

Your smile was indelible. It didn't matter the silence that for you became more and more uncomfortable. You knew that in front of you was the woman of your life.

“How did you spend your day? You haven't left the workshop today,” you commented distractedly, attracting Donna's attention.

“I had a lot of work,” she said in a whispery voice, barely paying attention to you.

“Oh, of course,” you said amused, playing with the spoon. “I'm not surprised,”

“Mm,” the lady murmured again, taking a sip of wine, making that she didn't feel like talking clear to you, something that was becoming more and more frequent.

“Yes, um...” you said confused, unable to get one of those eternal conversations, a smile that lasted longer, something from Donna that wasn't a tired sigh. “Do you have more orders than usual?”

“No,” she replied curtly, leaving the glass on the table and finishing her soup.

You smiled fakely nodding, feeling frustrated by these incipient slights.

“Oh, um, okay…” you sighed, deciding that maybe it would be better to remain silent.

“I've been very late, (Y/N), and it may have something to do with your insistence of wanting to go for a walk,” she said, with a soft but internally hard tone.

“Don't you like walking with me? The walk last week seemed very romantic to me,” you said, biting your lip and reaching out to take her hand, caressing it gently.

Luckily, that time she didn't push it away, in fact, reluctantly, she briefly returned your caress. Her face, once again, showed a tired smile.

“I like walking with you, but I'm neglecting my work,” Donna said, taking her hand away and sighing before getting up from the table. “I'm really tired today, (Y/N), I'm going to bed.”

“Wait, Donna,” you interrupted, getting up too and grabbing her wrist, turning the lady slowly. “The, the cake, aren't you going to try it?”

“Ugh,” she protested, frowning and rolling her eye. “Maybe tomorrow, put it in the fridge.”

“But Donna…” you said with sad eyes, comically pulling her hand. “I've spent three hours in the kitchen, I made it just for you…”

“I didn't ask you, (Y/N),” she said, shaking her head, looking at you in annoyance and taking her hand away from yours. “That you've spent three hours cooking it's not my problem.”

“Donna…” you sighed again, with an even sadder look. “But, but it's your favorite… I…” you stammered on the verge of sobbing, your eyes slowly filling with tears. “Donna…”

The lady in black sighed, gently caressing your face with a more relaxed expression, lifting your chin.

“Va bene, tesoro…” she finally said, approaching your lips and kissing them coldly, sitting back down. “Serve me a piece, but a small one.”

You smiled happily, jumping for joy and kissing her again repeatedly until her hands stopped you.

“Lasciami, lasciami, per favore,” the lady protested, waving her hands effusively while you walked away with shy giggles.

“A small piece…” you murmured as you cut the cake, serving her the exact amount she wanted and which she accepted with a tired look. “Come on, try it,” you said insistently, serving yourself another piece.

The lady tasted it reluctantly, savoring it and nodding slowly.

“How is it? Say something,” you said enthusiastically, checking for yourself that you had done a good job, significantly better than other times.

“It's very good, (Y/N),” Lady Beneviento commented, quickly devouring her piece and standing up again. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome…” you sighed with a loving smile. “But, but, is it sugary enough?”

“I said it's good,” Donna interrupted with a stern voice. “Why don't you pick this up?”

“But, I… Well, okay, okay,” you said, your smile fading little by little, your heart slightly hurt but at the same time resilient. “Then we could watch a movie and…”

“How many times do you want me to tell you? I'm very tired, I'm going to bed, you can do whatever you want,” Donna said, turning on her heels and leaving you alone and open-mouthed.

No matter how harsh her words were, you accepted them with a half- smile. Sighing, you began to clear the table and, unwillingly, you thought about what your life was like just a few months ago, how different it was.

Meeting Donna Beneviento was a coincidence, one of those coincidences that mark the path of your life. The youngest of the four Lords was also the most mysterious, the most dangerous.

You never cared about danger, or risks. You were a young girl, kind-hearted, what harm could do to talk to that woman in black, to help her when her doll got stuck in some bushes?

If you do good things, good things will happen to you, or so your family said. They weren't wrong at all. The best thing that ever happened to you in life was meeting her, learning to see the light in the darkness of her presence.

The whole village feared her, considered her a terrible and cruel monster. But none of that appeared in your feelings as you got a little closer, as you got to know her a little better.

Lady Beneviento was a sick woman, self-conscious about the deformity of her face, about what the gift of the Black Gods caused in her body. She kept herself isolated, completely alone. A hermit, a ghost, someone no one wanted to get close to.

But you appeared in her life, you smiled at her, you saw her kind side, her words of affection, her shy laugh… None of those were characteristics of a monster, and her appearance, of course, was not one either.

Donna was a beautiful woman, no scar, no change could make you think otherwise. Without expecting it, but at the same time wishing for it, love arose between you.

It was a sudden, romantic, wild love… It could even seem that the romance novels you read so much had come to life in your own reality. Love, caresses, whispers, passion, hugs… Everything formed your relationship, a comfortable one, one that you finally felt good about, one that you didn’t want to disappear.

Lady Beneviento loved you, she adored you, even those overly strong feelings made her behave in a slightly possessive way. You never gave it importance, you knew you didn't have to, you had already decided.

You had decided what smile you wanted to accompany you every morning, what warm body you wanted to melt with every night, what perfume you had chosen to cloud your senses.

Love continued and your relationship was stable. It had been more than a year since you decided to take that important step, stop visiting her and stay with her forever. Everything was perfect, idyllic, at least until a couple of months ago.

The love, those smiles, those caresses, the hugs, the passion… Everything was fading away little by little. Donna was the same and at the same time she was becoming someone different. It was increasingly difficult to get a smile out of her, to get her to return the hundreds of kisses you gave. You didn't want to think like that but… It seemed like you were bothering her, that she had gotten tired of you.

But that wasn't possible, she still told you that she loved you, that she liked you being by her side. It wasn't laziness, it was something else… It was as if the dark part of her mind had taken control, as if she saw you as a nuisance, a distraction that kept her from her old way of being.

There were no more kisses, no more caresses, no more hugs, only smiles, very brief kisses, sighs of weariness and cold words. You, of course, couldn't be the one to blame. From the first moment you didn't do anything that didn't make her happy.

You cooked her favorite dishes, you learned recipes that she told you about, you cleaned the house, you kept everything perfect for her, so a ‘thank you’ would come out of her lips, so those kisses would return.

None of that happened. Donna seemed to have abandoned you, even when she was by your side. It was increasingly difficult for her to talk to you. It was almost as if you didn't exist. But you never questioned it, you simply got used to that new behavior.

You couldn't think that Donna didn't love y. You knew that wasn't the case. Spoiling her, showering her with compliments, with romantic gestures, was your way of desperately clinging to a jaded love that you had already grown accustomed to, until little by little, sadness began to haunt you in your increasingly frequent moments alone.

You would do anything for her, always, but you began to wonder if she would do the same for you.

You picked up the plates, put away that delicious cake and got ready to get into bed next to her. You didn't expect her to greet you with a smile, not even with that mischievous look she had always looked at you with at bedtime. No, she had already fallen asleep.

“Donna, my love,” you said softly, getting into bed next to her, kissing her cheek.

The lady in black, as usual, growled annoyed, turning her back to you.

“Weren't you watching a movie?” she asked with a tired voice, comically covering herself with the sheets.

You smiled and shook your head, moving closer to her ear.

“It's not fun without you,” you said, biting her earlobe and laughing amused. “Hey, Donna, I feel like making love…” you whispered, lowering your hands and pulling her waist.

The doll maker moved her body to make you move away. You, already knowing that impatient gesture, did it.

“Not today,” she said, turning her head away from your rain of kisses. “Another day, (Y/N)”

“Okay…” you sighed sadly, leaning on the pillow with another controlled sob.

Donna, who was always terribly passionate, fierce in love, in possessing you in a carnal way whenever possible, now didn’t want to do it, she just made stupid excuses.

It wasn’t the most important thing for you, but you knew how much she enjoyed taking you.

You did everything you could to keep the passion alive, to hold on to that relationship, but you felt that the weight on your shoulders was too intense, that there was no one on the other side to help you handle that burden.

It was the effort to not extinguish love, an effort that only you made and that would soon make you sink into a depression you could already feel calling you from the depths of your soul.

You tried to forget those moments, to cuddle up next to her as you did every night. Not even that seemed to be acceptable to the brunette, who growled again, removing your hands from her body.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered furiously.

“I'm sorry,” you said, with a voice eaten away by the tears that were beginning to fall down your cheeks. “I'm sorry if I bothered you.”

Donna sighed after a moment of silence, sitting up and touching your shoulder.

“Come here,” she whispered, turning around and grabbing your waist gently, as if she wanted not to be that cruel, as if deep down, she was also noticing your incipient sadness.

“Thank you…” you sighed with a sincere smile, approaching her body, letting her surround you with her warmth.

The slights hardly mattered to you. Donna always did something that told your heart not to stop beating, that you could continue to be terribly in love with the lady in black. The question was simple: How long could you stay that way?

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Donna said with a different voice, pressing you against her body. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, enjoying her warmth. “Tomorrow Alcina will come to have lunch.”

“Tomorrow? But Donna… Tomorrow is the day of our meal on the river,” you protested, playing erratically with her fingers that were clinging to your waist.

“Mm…” she sighed in a way that indicated she was rolling her eye. “Leave it for another day, will you? I don't like her coming either but I'm afraid I have no other choice. She often invites us to her castle.”

“Yeah, well, you never want to go anyway,” you sighed, with an anger that was beginning to be noticeable in your voice. Donna, as always, didn't give it any importance.

“I'd rather be here, with you,” the lady said in an apparently romantic way.

“You're not with me, you spend the day with your dolls, you even…” you said furiously, turning around and crossing your arms.

“I'm with you all day long.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Donna,” you said, turning around again, removing her warm hands from your body. “Good night.”

“Buonanotte…” the lady whispered, kissing you quickly on the cheek and turning around as well.

If you were told a few months ago that your bodies no longer intertwined at bedtime… You would probably think it was a dirty lie.

The next day started like any other. You devoted all your energy to preparing a perfect breakfast that Donna no longer appreciated. The kisses under the shower were no longer intense, they were brief, half-hearted.

Maybe it was your imagination, or maybe not.

While you were cooking a delicious menu for your unexpected guest, you asked yourself that question, one that you avoided asking yourself and that you could no longer contain: did Donna really love you?

“Is all for me, dear?” Lady Dimitrescu asked, surprised by each of the details that you meticulously prepared.

You, pleased by her words, smiled sincerely. It had really been a long time since you heard Donna say something like that.

“Everything looks great, little bird,” Alcina murmured, while you sat next to Donna, who was covered with her black veil, as always when there was someone other than you.

“Thank you, my lady,” you said smiling, pouring yourself a glass of wine.

“My lady… Little girl… We are almost family…” the lady in white sighed, stabbing a piece of meat with her fork. “Call me Alcina.”

“Alcina, yes, of course,” you said kindly.

The three of you began to eat in silence until a satisfying grunt bounced off the old walls of the mansion.

“Oh, dear… It's spectacular,” the vampire said, pointing at you with her fork. “Mashed potatoes with gravy?”

“Yes, well, it's a recipe I used to make,” you commented, destroying the silence that usually accompanied you. “Donna likes it…”

“I see,” Alcina said, nodding with a seductive look. “Donna, you are very lucky.”

“Mm,” the veiled lady murmured, eating in silence, looking at you briefly through her black cloth.

“Mm?” her sister mocked. “Please, not in a million years would I be able to get one of my maids to cook like this.”

“Oh,” you said, laughing amused and blushing at that appreciation. “I love cooking, besides, Donna has taught me a lot of delicious recipes from her country.”

“I can't compete against that, huh?” the tall lady joked, arching her eyebrows. “Um, I see the house is a bit… different,” she commented, observing the cracked walls. “Oh, Donna, don’t tell me you’ve finally lost that absurd allergy to cleaning.”

“No, (Y/N) takes care of the house,” the woman in black said, with a rough and disinterested voice.

“Does she?” Alcina asked, narrowing her eyes and looking at you with a wicked smile. “Do you have a sister?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t, Alcina,” you said kindly, serving the lady another glass of wine. “I like to clean. I love seeing your sister happy.”

“Wow… You are lucky,” Dimitrescu murmured, now looking at her taciturn sister.

“I guess so,” Donna whispered, taking the bottle of wine from you in an unpleasant manner and leaving it on the table.

“Mm, I see…” Dimitrescu murmured again, rolling her eyes. “(Y/N), would you be interested in working at the castle?”

“No, she’s not interested,” Donna said, angrily hitting the table with her fists, scaring you a bit. “(Y/N), dessert.”

The expression of the lady in white cooled and she frowned, watching you as, in an almost perfect way, you slid the knife through the cake you made the day before, the one Donna failed to appreciate.

“Cheesecake with raspberry jam,” the tall woman commented, studying the shape of that culinary delight.

“The jam is homemade,” you explained, serving another piece to Donna, who looked at you through her veil, you didn't know how. “Do you want this one or do you want a slightly bigger one, my love?”

“This one,” she said curtly, taking the plate from your hands roughly. “Em, grazie.”

“You're welcome, darling,” you said in a tender voice, embarrassing your girlfriend with a few sudden kisses on the cheek she pushed away with a brusque growl.

“Lasciami estare, cazzo,” the lady in black hissed, pushing you unpleasantly, under the watchful gaze of her older sister.

“I'm sorry,” you said with a tender smile. “Maybe you'd like a coffee, you want it with milk and no sugar, right, darling?”

“Yes, yes, go, let me breathe,” the lady in black said, moving her hands in an unpleasant way.

You sighed but nodded, looking at the lady in white.

“How…?”

“Black, dear, with two sugar cubes,” Alcina interrupted, with a knowing smile, winking at you.

“Great, I'll bring it right away,” you said helpfully, picking up the plates and going down to the kitchen.

“I want coffee too!” Angie shrieked, tugging at your dress.

“You can't have coffee, you can't have anything, in fact,” you said amused, stroking the doll's head, who laughed amusedly.

None of Donna's actions seemed strange to you. You were already used to it and... Unfortunately, you stopped giving it the importance it deserved.

In an elegant way you put the three cups on a tray, going back up to the dining room. When you heard a sharp voice, you stopped dead, still unseen.

“You're stupid, Donna, stupid,” Lady Dimitrescu snapped in a stern, dark voice. “Keep behaving like that and you will suffer the consequences.”

“It's none of your business, Alcina,” you heard Donna hiss, her voice seemingly upset.

“Mm, maybe, but I'll tell you one thing, dear… If you don't take care of that beautiful garden… well, let's just say that I'd really like to do it,” the eldest Lord said, earning an angry growl from your girlfriend, who stood up from her chair.

“What are you implying? Porca puttana! Get out of my house!” Donna shrieked, pointing to the door.

“Don't yell, little sister… Instead of getting mad, take my advice… Otherwise, I'll be the one to take care of that flower as it deserves. And I think that seeing your attitude, it won't be too hard for me.”

“Fuori!” Donna shouted again.

She seemed very furious, out of her mind. It was time to approach her.

“Sorry, I…” you said timidly, lowering your head and entering the room, earning a seductive look from the lady in white.

“That coffee smells delicious, dear…” she murmured, picking up her ridiculously small cup. “A perfect coffee next to a perfect young lady…”

“Tha, thank you Alcina,” you said with blushing cheeks, approaching the brunette. “Donna, honey, are you okay? Are you having a crisis?”

“No,” she answered, grumbling and letting herself fall into the chair.

“I thought you were arguing,” you murmured, caressing Donna's cheek through her veil, noticing how the rage burned on her skin. “Should I get your medicine, honey?”

“No,” Donna repeated, making you look at her listlessly and then at Alcina, to whom you bowed apologetically.

“Forgive her, sometimes… It happens to her,” you said, apologizing for your girlfriend's attitude, one that was sometimes unpredictable.

Getting furious for talking about a garden… It was very typical of Donna, of course.

“Mm… I know, don't worry, I forgive her,” Alcina said with an implicitly mocking tone. “The question is… Will she forgive me?”

“Stupida…” Donna growled, mysteriously approaching you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it through the black fabric, a gesture that surprised you. “The coffee is delicious, (Y/N).”

“Thank you, darling… Are you calmer?” you said smiling at the compliment, one that you missed terribly. The lady nodded without letting your hand go.

When Lady Dimitrescu left and Donna got rid of her veil, you could see her frown, a strange expression for which you had no explanation.

“Well… It seems that everything went well,” you said sighing, finishing clearing the table and smiling at the brunette, who had her gaze on the floor while playing with her veil.

“(Y/N),” she said with a hoarse voice, approaching you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I would like to tell you something.”

“Of course,” you said smiling, stacking the plates and cups.

“I love you, you know that, right?” the lady said with a different tone, sad, which made you turn around slowly, grabbing her hand and looking at her with concern.

“Me too, Donna, of course I know… Come on, don't be mad. Alcina just messed with your garden,” you said absentmindedly, looking out the window. “Hey, maybe when it's less cold we could fix it.”

“Fix it?” she asked, frowning in confusion. “The garden?”

“Yes, well… Okay, it's impossible to compete with the castle but I'm sure you and I can make it something similar,” you said with that same passive tone, without thinking clearly, without giving importance to that absurd discussion.

“Do you like the castle?” the lady asked suddenly. “Do you like it more than this house?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you said, picking up a stack of plates. “Alcina can say whatever she wants, but… I love this house, and the garden, I wouldn't change it for anything.”

“Really? Are you serious?” she asked again, holding your hands very tightly, as if she was scared of something.

“Um, Donna, are you sure you're okay?” you asked worriedly, passing a hand over her sweaty forehead. “Oh, my love… You're sweating, let me finish picking this up and I'll prepare a hot bath for you.”

“No, no… Let me, let me pick it up and… And I'll prepare a bath for you… With… With those bath salts that you like,” Donna said, taking the plates from your hand abruptly, with a trembling voice.

You opened your eyes, surprised by that suddenly different attitude. You felt confused, disoriented. There was no doubt that the strange conversation with Alcina had something to do with it but… You didn't know in what way.

“Mm, I think it's a great idea but…” you said with shining eyes, blinking in a petulant and even seductive way.

“But,” the lady said, looking at you with a strange coldness, darkening her eye.

“Only if you come with me…”

That hot, romantic bath started a confusing phase of your relationship. You couldn't explain why, the reasons that led Donna to change her attitude towards you, but you weren't going to complain either.

Yes, she was still the same grumpy one as always, the one who was overwhelmed by your excessive affection and caresses, but she faced it in a different way, as if she were fighting with herself, fighting to change.

Even so, that wasn't enough for your demons to stop harassing you, for the doubts you had about the feelings of the lady in black to disappear.

Yes, you were happier to be able to talk to her again, to receive many more smiles, for her to accept your kisses but... But you didn't feel that it was enough, you felt it forced, as if someone was guiding the brunette to behave that way.

What you really didn't expect was what happened one cold morning, one in which you didn't read romance books anymore. No matter how hard Donna tried. Your relationship was still far from resembling those love novels.

“The door, there's a knock on the door!” Angie interrupted your ramblings, shouting in a shrill voice and waving her arms to get your attention. “Hey, silly!”

“Ugh, I'm coming,” you said, getting up from the couch lazily. As expected, there was no sign of Donna. That hadn't changed. Her dolls were still her absolute priority.

You opened the door to find something unexpected, a villager holding what looked like a bouquet of beautiful flowers, your favorites, in fact.

“Um... What do you want?” you asked, surprised by the presence of that stranger at your door. That a random villager had been able to cross Donna's territory was something that wasn’t frequent.

“Miss (Y/N)?” the man asked, handing you that bouquet of roses. “This is for you.”

You took it with a frown, bringing the flowers to your nose, slowly inhaling their scent.

“For me? From whom?” you asked, smiling at the beauty of those carefully placed flowers. There didn't seem to be any card, nothing to tell you where they came from.

“I don't know,” the man said, shrugging and turning around. “I'm sorry, but I wouldn't like to stay here for long…”

Before you could ask another question, the man disappeared, walking quickly down the path, surely scared to know where he was.

You stood rooted to the spot, staring intently at the bouquet of flowers, looking for a possible culprit for that romantic act.

Of course, Donna seemed the main suspect but… Something told you that you were wrong. She was a romantic woman, or at least she was for a while, but she never gave you flowers, she never went that far, she never had a similar detail.

No, they couldn't be from Donna. You were quite clear about that.

“Who was it, tesoro?” the lady asked when you entered the house again, startling you. You weren't expecting her presence.

“Oh, um... Well...” you said nervously, showing her the flowers.

“Wow... They're beautiful,” she said with a smile, running her fingers over the petals, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Don't you think?”

If you had any doubts about the origin of those flowers, you had just cleared them up. They weren't from Donna.

“I wonder who it could have been…” you murmured thoughtfully, smelling the flowers again “Mm, they smell really nice…”

“Um, yes, I…” Donna said stuttering, looking at you confused.

“Can you imagine that I have a secret admirer?” you asked amused, finding the idea more and more exciting in your head. After all, no one had ever sent you flowers, no one. “How exciting, isn't it?”

The most sincere smile you had ever put on lit up your face as you played with those beautiful flowers, finding a privileged place for them in the mansion. Donna followed you nervously, looking over your shoulder as you put them away in an empty vase, laughing amused and excited by that gift.

“Wow, I really didn't expect that,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It's strange that they didn't leave a note, isn't it? I'd really like to know who it was...” you said in a sweet voice, your heart beating fast from the excitement of receiving that anonymous gift, of feeling that there was someone out there who appreciated you.

“W-would you like to know?” Donna asked, with a broken voice, putting a hand on your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, sensing a sudden attack of jealousy and took her hand, kissing the back of it briefly.

“Not again, Donna,” you whispered tired of her jealousy, of her possessiveness. “I don't know who it was and if I knew I wouldn't tell you either.”

“But, but, (Y/N)...” she murmured, shaking her head, struggling with her words to say something. “It's just that I...”

“What's the problem with people sending me flowers?” you asked with your hands on your hips, with the prejudice that the lady had gotten angry and was thinking about how to get revenge on that stranger.

You weren't being unreasonable. It wasn't the first time Lady Beneviento got mad.

“T-Tesoro...” she stammered, taking your hand.

You could only think about that attitude, about her lack of attention, you couldn't even think about what she was going to say to you.

“Shh, quiet, Donna,” you said seriously but mockingly, putting a finger on her lips to stop her complaining. “Don't get jealous, okay? They can send me all the flowers they want, it doesn't mean anything.”

“Oh, um, okay...” she finally said, with a tired sigh, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. She seemed really worried.

“I'm going to make you something delicious to eat,” you said with euphoric joy, kissing her quickly and walking happily towards the elevator.

She didn't kiss you back. She just stared at that vase of flowers, shaking her head.

“Silly Donna…” Angie hissed, tugging at her dress. “What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing, Angie, it's better this way.”

You were too excited to pay attention to that conversation between Donna and Angie, and continued on your way quietly.

Those flowers… Yes, it had been a good way to start the day, no matter who it was, but at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

A lot of faces came to your mind and you dismissed each one of them. It couldn't be Donna. She had gotten very nervous, probably wondering what stupid vermin dared to seduce what was hers. No, it couldn't have been her. Then…

A name popped into your head, one you could sense, that had everything it took to become the main suspect. Alcina Dimitrescu.

It was pretty obvious that the lady in white had some sort of fixation on you, and even more so after that awkward lunch. Obviously, you weren't going to say anything to Donna, that would make her even angrier, and it was better that way.

“It's delicious, amore mio,”the lady in black commented when it was finally time to eat, with a radiant smile, one that reminded you of those first months. It was a shame that your mind was so focused on that flower thing that you didn't even notice.

“Oh, thank you, Donna,” you said with a sigh, with a smile that didn't belong to the kind words of the lady in black, but to that mysterious person who showered you with flowers.

“You put pepper on it, like I suggested,” she commented again, with a tender smile that you did see, which you returned without thinking as you nodded.

“I like to pay attention to the things you tell me, darling,” you said, downplaying it.

The lady in black smiled again, glancing at the vase.

“Wait, you're not being nice because that whole flower thing, are you?” you said with a more serious tone, crossing your arms.

“What? No, no, I just…” she said with a sincere look, shaking her head. “I, I like to tell you nice things….”

“Well, I like you doing it,” you said with a haughty tone, knowing for sure that this slightly more exaggerated attitude was the consequence of the appearance of a new player on the board, of a competitor who seemed to want to claim your love.

Donna continued to change little by little, seeking your warm body at night, whispering in your ear, kissing you relentlessly…

You could consider it a tremendous improvement, a wish that you had been asking for a long time ago fulfilled but unfortunately, you didn't see it that way.

The flowers could have been an isolated incident, an exception in your boring life, but it wasn't. Every day, every morning more flowers arrived at your door, beautiful bouquets that occasionally began to be accompanied by a note, a love note.

Your chest beat with excitement with each new bouquet, with each surprise from that secret admirer. You were excited, intrigued to feel that you provoked so many sensations in someone.

Each bouquet was accompanied by a good deed from Donna. A romantic dinner, walks in the woods... Everything coincided dangerously. That made you think that you weren’t wrong, that her jealousy was forcing the lady in black to become a prodigious lover.

There shouldn't be any problem, it was what you were looking for, to return to the romantic and affectionate beginnings of your relationship, but you knew that Donna would never change simply because she had realized she had neglected you, no, so many months of contempt couldn’t change overnight. That tender and romantic attitude had an explanation: jealousy.

Yes, that was the reason, jealousy. The appearance of that mysterious lover must have forced the brunette to love you, to pay attention to you, to distract your constant thoughts and take them away from that person of the flowers.

On the other hand, you were still in love with Donna, hopelessly in love. Receiving displays of affection from an unknown person was encouraging but you would never change your feelings.

But that she wasn’t able to love you as you wanted, by her own will and not for a mere territorial and primary issue simply frustrated you.

“Let's see, let's see...” you said excitedly picking up your daily bouquet.

On that occasion, it came with a small note, which you opened when you confirmed that there was no one around you.

Dear (Y/N)

I hope these flowers help you understand how crazy I am about you. You are the most beautiful girl in the world. You are the only one who would overshadow the beauty of these flowers. No flower could compare to the light of your gaze, their smell cannot compare to the perfume of your skin.

You are my most beautiful flower.

“Aww,” you murmured, biting your lip, reading that elegant calligraphy over and over again.

Of course, your secret admirer was quite the poet. That person always managed to make you blush.

Luckily, the heels of the lady in black alerted you, giving you time to put the note away and pretend to place the flowers in another vase next to the others.

“Ciao, tesoro…” Donna whispered, hugging you around the waist and planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “More flowers?”

“Looks like it,” you said amused, grabbing the hands that held your body, letting yourself be carried by Donna's gentle swaying. “Isn't it early for you to come up from the workshop?”

“Mm, yes,” she said, kissing your cheek and resting her head on your shoulder. “I was looking forward to be with you…”

“Oh, well, that's… Great,” you sighed, your voice taken over by the words in the note and not by the love the lady was showing you. “What did you have in mind, darling?”

“I thought I could make you some food, you know, some of your favorite dishes,” she commented, dancing with your body, turning you around with an elegant twist of her hand. “Do you fancy it?”

“Your cooking? I always do,” you said, laughing amused by the tickling her lips did on your neck. “Donna…”

“Then we could, I don't know, go for a romantic walk… You and I… The sunset…” Donna whispered in your ear, causing you to blush even more.

“You and I? Without Angie?” you asked suspiciously, frowning.

The lady nodded, stealing a quick kiss on your lips, caressing your cheek and looking at you intensely, as if she was looking for something, something you didn't know.

“You and I, amore mio…” the lady sighed, running her thumb over your lips and making you purr seductively. “After that we could watch a movie, whichever you want…”

“It's a perfect plan, Donna, I'd love to,” you said with a tender voice, letting yourself be completely seduced by her gaze, kissing her slowly.

“Well, well… I have to finish a doll but… After that I'll be all yours,” Donna said, pinching your cheek and pulling away slowly. “Leave those stupid flowers and change your clothes, I want you to be beautiful.”

“Um, okay,” you said blushing, moving your ankle in a childish way while she looked at you with a tender smile before disappearing from your sight.

You sighed with nostalgia, thinking about that new and desired attitude, looking at the flowers. Of course, whoever it was also had feelings for you but you, after a few terrible moments of doubt, cleared your heart or rather, you let it clear itself.

You loved Donna. You loved her with all your soul. Not even all the flowers, all the notes in the world would change that, ever.

Yes, it could be that the lady in black had returned to her loving and kind self because of the danger of someone taking her treasure but... That ferocity only demonstrated one thing: a pure, intense love, one that would be capable of bringing down the moon for you if you asked.

Compared to her smile, her kisses, her words in Italian, the flowers were nothing but weeds and those words were nothing but ink on paper.

In your head, the name Alcina Dimitrescu danced incessantly. Without a doubt, she was the one who admired you, you were not involved with anyone else, it had to be her. You couldn’t betray Donna, you would never do it.

She could never win your love, never.

That statement sailed confidently through your mind, causing you to make a radical decision.

No, you didn’t want more flowers, you didn’t want more love letters, you only wanted Donna, no one else.

Searching through the old address book next to the phone, you found the castle's number, dialing it decisively. Yes, you loved Donna, only Donna. It took a lot of flowers for you to realize it.

“Dimitrescu Castle…” Alcina's tired, velvety voice answered on the other end of the phone.

“Alcina? I'm, I'm (Y/N),” you said nervously. After all, she was also dangerous.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's nice to hear your voice,” she answered with a sinister laugh. “What's wrong, dear? Don't tell me that Donna has done something bad to you.”

“What? No, it's not that, it's…” you said nervously, annoyed by that horrible accusation. “I have, I have to talk to you.”

“Mm, talk, little bird…” Alcina murmured, with a strange sigh.

“Okay, um, I don't really know how to tell you but…” you started, looking around, trying to make sure there were no unwanted listeners.

“You're pregnant… Oh, Donna, you damn irresponsible brat, I knew that…” Alcina said, interrupting and making you growl more and more nervous.

“No, no,” you insisted, losing your patience. “Okay, I think I'll get to the point…”

“Yes, dear, that's how I like it”

“Look, I don't have feelings for you… No, I'm not interested in you, I mean… I like your company but, nothing, nothing else… I love Donna, I love her with all my soul and… No matter how many flowers you send me, my heart isn't going to change, so…”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about, little bird? Flowers?” Alcina asked, laughing in surprise, something that confused you.

“Y-Yes, the, the flowers you send me at home… You know…” you said, stumbling over your words, with your heart in your throat.

“Dear, I have no idea what you're talking about…” Alcina murmured. “I'd love to send you flowers but I'm afraid I have nothing to do with that.”

“No? But, but…” you stammered, terribly confused. “It wasn't you?”

“Mm no,” she said laughing. “Flowers? Please, I'm not that cheesy,” the lady in white mocked.

“Shit…” you whispered covering the microphone, dying of embarrassment. “So who… Who did it?”

“I'm afraid I don't know, dear… Who do you think it did?” she asked laughing, as if you were joking.

You shook your head, your whole body shaking.

“I don't know…” you murmured, scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry, sorry for bothering you… Bye,” you said hanging up the phone, burying your face in your hands. “Oh… But who?”

Your head was confused, blocked, you weren’t able to know who this secret admirer was, there was no one who could be involved in this matter, you only related to Donna and she simply couldn’t be.

Tired and nervous, you let yourself fall on the sofa. If the flowers were not from Alcina they lost all that romanticism. That there was a stranger who wanted to flirt with you was something that you began to see as disturbing.

Looking everywhere, your eyes were fixed on one of the shelves, where a book seemed to stand out. You had a terrible obsession with order and you got up to put it away, realizing that there was a paper sticking out of it.

“Mm?” you murmured curiously, opening the book, a book written in Italian, a paper written in the same language, full of crossed out words, of short sentences that you began to observe.

That handwriting seemed familiar to you but, after trying to read those sentences, those paragraphs, a light lit up in your head. Slowly, you searched in your pocket for that letter, that love note that came with the flowers.

There was no doubt; the letters, the shape of that calligraphy matched completely, as did the last thing written on the paper, the same love letter in another language.

“Gods... Donna...” you said, covering your mouth with your hand, with the unexpected revelation that somehow, you already knew.

Donna sent you the flowers, she was always behind those words of love, it was her all the time and she never told you. A romantic gesture that you didn't expect from her was the perfect excuse for Donna to continue with her game.

Why had she denied her involvement in something so beautiful? You would have to ask her.

With shaky legs, you went down to the doll workshop, crumpling the paper in your hand, with a unique smile, with your heart beating faster than ever. Love was in your veins, in your body, in your face, the love for that lonely lady who sent you flowers even though she already had you, even though you didn't even know she was doing it.

“Donna, darling,” you said in a sweet voice, interrupting the lady's sewing, who gestured for you to come closer.

“I'll be done soon, tesoro…” she whispered, not looking at you, focused on that small garment.

You closed your eyes, approaching slowly and taking a breath.

“You are the most beautiful flower,” you whispered in her ear, leaning towards her and savoring each of the words.

Donna didn't look at you, but stopped sewing, sighing deeply.

“It's been you all along, hasn't it?” you asked in a soft voice, guiding her head to look at you.

Her cheeks were flushed, her chest moving quickly. There was no doubt.

“(Y/N),” she said dryly, not daring to look at your face.

“You sent me the flowers… It was you, my love…” you repeated, cupping her face in your hands. Her eye looked sad, and with an effort, the lady in black nodded slowly. “Donna, darling… Why…? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Io…” she murmured, avoiding the brightness of your eyes, leaving the sewing to grab your wrists, which were still clinging to her face. “I tried but… You didn’t listen to me. You thought I was jealous and… I, I didn’t…”

You silenced her stammer with a passionate kiss, with the moisture of your lips impregnating hers, loving, caressing her mouth with yours with passion, with pure love.

“Donna, my love… My Donna…” you whispered, running a hand through her black hair while she looked at you between sadness and shame. “I thought you didn’t…”

“I know,” she interrupted. “I know you didn’t think it was me.”

“No, I…”

“(Y/N), I beg for your forgiveness,” Donna said, holding your hands, standing up, looking at you now, straight on. “I was stupid… I, I treated you terribly… I neglected you.”

“Donna, well, that's true but…” you said, thinking about those horrible months.

“I don't want to lose you. To lose you would kill me, (Y/N)…” she sighed, caressing your cheek. “Y-You're right, I was, I was jealous… When I saw that Alcina was interested in you I understood that… That I could lose you….”

You nodded softly for her to continue.

“I've never known what love is, what it means to love a person and… I, I thought you could… I don't know, (Y/N), I was sure that you wouldn't abandon me and… I was selfish, I thought I had you and…”

“Shh, it doesn't matter,” you whispered, placing your hands on her waist.

“Yes it does, you give everything for me and I... I have despised you,” she said, embarrassed by her behavior. “I beg you to forgive me, please... I don't know... I don't know how to love, I... I saw you so happy when you received the flowers that I continued, I continued with the lie just to see your smile...”

You silenced the lady again with a kiss on her lips, seeing in her eye the apology, the regret, the love.

“Mm, well, it seems to me that the fact you let me think that someone is sending me flowers just to see me happy is very romantic, Donna...”

“I can't promise you that I can change, I'm not right and... I... I only know that I plan to love you every day and that you are... You are the only thing that gives me the strength to continue,” she said whispering, kissing you slowly.

“Do me a favor, will you?” you asked in a seductive tone, making a smile form on her lips. “Keep sending me flowers…”

After that penetrating whisper, the kisses returned, more and more passionate, wilder.

“No flower could ever say how much I love you, amore mio…” Donna whispered, running her hands over your body, appreciating it, exploring it, memorizing it with her fingers, as if she were afraid of forgetting it.

“Then show it to me, right here, right now…” you whispered again, walking backwards until your back hit the work table, dragging the brunette's body with you, inevitably drawing it into your kisses.

“Yes…”she said, admiring you with her loving gaze, with the caresses of her hands on your body, on your chest, fighting against the rush of your kisses, which began to fill her skin with love.

Little by little the words were nothing but incomprehensible babbling in a tangle of panting, of passion, of bites and hot, wet, anxious kisses.

Your bodies danced to the same beat, to the same rhythm, rubbing against each other, letting the friction return, that contact both of you craved to warm your passion.

The panting slowly mutated, turning into moans when her firm hands lifted your body, raising it onto the table, making those pieces of porcelain that you considered enemies, tremble.

It was like a mockery, those moans were a reminder of superiority towards the dolls, an act of lust in a sacred place for Donna, which would soon cease to be so.

You closed your eyes, pleased by the touch of her erection between your legs, by the excitement of those forbidden, wild, messy kisses. You didn't want to stop or think, you just wanted Donna, you wanted an animal love, a physical and obscene declaration of the love she felt for you. That was better than a hundred flowers.

“(Y/N)… Ti amo…” the lady whispered, looking into your eyes, seeking approval for her hands to pull down your underwear. “I want to make love to you…”

“I want you to,” you whispered, panting with her kisses, hot from her soft touch, from her increasingly furious caresses, from her nails scratching the bare skin of your legs.

She nodded, releasing her shaft after letting the clothes disappear from between your legs, entering you hastily, but accompanied by soft whispers, words of love that you had only heard in your fantasies for a long time, that you only read in your books.

“Donna…” you moaned as you noticed your walls blessed with her erection, the moisture that bathed her body while yours embraced her tirelessly, preventing her from daring to abandon you again.

The silence was no longer awkward, but a grateful companion to your loving glances, to an intense eye contact while the brunette thrust into you in a soft, intense but at the same time romantic way, enjoying the soft and slow contact.

Your body contracted, stretched, tensed. In your head you saw all those notes of love. You felt those words, those movements as a complete declaration, as an apology for her unfair behavior.

“My love…” you moaned, without blinking, letting passion tense your body before a quick orgasm deformed your walls, without her losing her romantic gaze, her movements, her soft caresses. “Oh, Donna!” you screamed when those involuntary movements became unbearable, forcing you to throw yourself into her kisses, to hang on her body while she held you without abandoning you.

Donna didn't say anything, she just moaned and sighed, looking and holding you with her nails digging into your skin when, with a sharp moan, she released herself inside you, completing that apology, that act of reconciliation, of true love...

“Honey...” you sighed as you felt her wet heat fill you, as you felt her seed claiming you as she hugged you, as she caught her breath without stopping caressing you.

“I will never neglect you again, I promise, my flower...”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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