#it has two chapters but please enjoy this
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Funny How Times Flies | 4
terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader
summary:Â you and terry make the best of the end of the trip and promise to make time for each other despite being a short distance apart but you begin to have doubts.
warnings: fluff, angst, panic attack, short long-distance relationship, misunderstanding, first-ever argument, jealousy & possessive! terry, explicit smut (18+), fingering, handcuffing, breeding kink, dom/sub, unprotected sex, dirty talking, nicknames (baby, baby girl), words: (5k)
note:Â i really love how this chapter came out; it might be my favorite. please enjoy! Let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts.
series masterlist
-
You haven't been this happy and at ease in a very long time. This trip has been so excellent, and youâve had so much fun with your friends, especially with Terry.
Today was the last day, and sadly, all of you had to leave tomorrow morning. Terry wanted this last day to be just the two of you, so first he surprised you with breakfast in bed.
"Good Morning, beautiful," Terry says, placing the tray in front of you and giving you a quick peck before grabbing his plate and sitting on the end of the bed.
You laughed at how cheerful he sounded. âGood morning, handsome!â You responded with a smile and grabbed the fruit bowl first.
"How did you sleep? I bet you slept hella good huh?," He teased with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing what he was hinting at.
"I slept amazing, Terry, but I canât walk now 'cause you had to do that thing," You said, eating out of the fruit bowl; you picked a strawberry and fed it to him, which he gladly took in his mouth.
"Thank you," Terry said, chewing the strawberry down before adding, "You mean the thing you were begging me for?" He asked with a chuckle, and you looked at him as he tilted his head towards you with a smile that caused your heart to flutter.
âWhatever!â You said, sticking your tongue out at him playfully, making him scoff, jump on you, and tickle your side. You bursted out of laughter, trying to push his hands away. âTerry, oh my god, stop.â
He continued to tickle
âThatâs what I thought,â Terry stops, looking down at you with those pretty eyes of his. He was staring at you with this affection that made you feel shy. âGod, I love you,â He said, and your eyes widened, realizing what he was saying, and his eyes widened too.
He cleared his throat, moving off of you. âUhâŚthis breakfast is good,â Terry said, looking away from you. You sat up, sharing through his eyes as he went to talk about something, and you just went on with it to not make it awkward.
After breakfast, both of you got dressed and left the villa. You and Terry walked hand in hand and visited a few gift shops before finding yourselves in a taco restaurant and eating the best tacos you had.
Soon leaving there, you couldnât help to ask. "So where are we going now?"
Terry shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle, finding your excitement adorable. "I thought we checked out one of the cenotes since we didn't get to go to one in Valladolid!"
"Terry, really???!!!" You asked, hugging his arm tightly, looking up at him with those big warm eyes of yours.
âYeah, the van is waiting for us,â he said, motioning to the van crossing the street. You grabbed Terryâs hand and dragged him to the van.
The ride was filled with laughter and upbeat Latin music as the car meandered through vibrant landscapes beneath the top of towering trees.
Upon arrival, a guide escorted you to a location where you could change and securely store your belongings. You and Terry changed into swimwear before meeting a woman who assisted with lifeguard sizing.
The lifeguards fit snugly, ensuring your safety as you prepare to explore the cenote's inviting waters. The guide gave you a brief overview of the cenote's history and unique features, adding to the sense of wonder.
As you look at the water, you feel excitement and peace, the beauty of the place enveloping you like a warm embrace.
âTerry, this is truly breathtaking. Thank you!â you exclaimed, giving him a kiss on the lips.
âAnything for you, baby,â he responded. âCome on, letâs go for a swim.â He added, and you stopped him for a second, feeling yourself get a little panicked.
Terry could tell immediately by how your hand began to tremble in his. You didn't hear what he said; it was all muffled as you realized that you might be terrified of large bodies of water.
Your knees slightly knocked as you stared into the water as another couple jumped in with no problem. You started shaking your head and feeling yourself get worked up.
Terry grabbed your shoulders and told you to sit down. You tried to suppress your trembling, but you were failing, so he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Hey, hey, hey, babyâŚjust take deep breaths." He instructed, and you did what you were told, closed your eyes, and took several slow, deep breaths.
"There you goâŚdo you still want to do this?" Terry asked, cupping your cheek as your trembling turned to slowly fade away with his soft touch.
"Yes, letâsâŚlet's do it," you said with another deep breath, and he took hold of your hand and walked you towards the edge of the water.
You and Terry slowly got in, feeling the refreshing and invigorating cool water. You were captivated by the vibrant marine life and the beautiful rock formations hidden beneath the surface.
âThank you,â you said, leaning back against Terry. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the gentle rhythm of his breath matching the soothing lapping of the water.
âNo need to thank me, baby. Iâm always here if you need me,â Terry said, kissing your forehead, causing you to smile happily at the words he used, it was similar to what you told him.
âLook at those fish,â you said, pointing at a flash of color that darted past. âTheyâre like little jewels swimming through the water.â You added.
Terry chuckled, his laughter rich and warm, sending a thrill through you. He said, âJust like us, right? A couple of precious finds in this hidden paradise.â
Your eyes met, and the world around you faded at that moment. âYouâre definitely a treasure,â you whispered, your voice barely above the sound of the water.
Terry turned slightly, brushing a braid behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your dark-brown skin.
âAnd youâre the most beautiful part of this place,â he replied softly. The sincerity in his voice made your heart race, a flutter of excitement igniting in your chest.
âYou know, um, I meant what I said earlierâŚI do love youâŚI know itâs too soon to say it, but I feel it in my bones, and I know I do,â Terry said, his voice a soft murmur.
Your eyes sparkled, searching through his eyes, and there was truth behind him, a sincere expression on his face. He loved you, and you felt it grow with every intimate moment togather.
You loved him too, but you were a little scared to say it out loud, so you just said, âI know, TerryâŚ..I donât want this to end; I donât want to return to the real worldâŚ"
You trailed off for a second, looking away. "And this feeling will change,â you confessed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.
âBaby, I promise this feeling I have for you won't change. We'll make time for each other and create our own moments that we can cherish forever; we just gotta try and give it a chanceâ Terry suggested, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
Your heart swelled at his choice of words, and you nodded, a smile blooming on your lips, sealing the promise with a soft kiss. In that perfect moment, surrounded by cenotes' beauty, you hoped you two kept the promise.
-
The shift back home wasnât easy. The first week without Terry was tough, but he called you almost daily and facetime you sometimes at night.
The two of you lived in Louisiana, but you lived in Lafayette, and he lived close to New Orleans was about two hours away from each other.
Terry texted you one day that he was driving down to visit you for the weekend, and you were beyond excited. When you heard the doorbell ring, you rushed to the front door.
You practically swung the door open, and there Terry stood, looking so damn fine in a baseball cap, hoodie with sweatpants. His voice was like music to your ears when he said, "Hey, baby,"
You dragged him in with his suitcases before closing the door and jumping into his arms. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly, not letting you go.
You felt him burying his face into your neck for a second before placing soft kisses on it, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You both stood there, holding each other for a few minutes,
Terry moves from your neck to kiss you softly. You place your hand on the back of his neck, and his tongue begins dancing against you, causing you to let out a light moan.
"Fuck. I missed you," He says, pulling away, resting his forehead against yours while staring into your eyes with a mixture of warmth and love.
"I missed you too, Terry," you said with a smile before slightly pulling away from his embrace, taking his hand, and guiding him to the table in your dining room.
"I made your favorite," he looked at the table and then back at you with a smile. At this very moment, Terry was happy to be here with you for a little bit.
Shortly after eating dinner, chatting, and enjoying each other's company, you were both in the living room, cuddling while watching a movie.
Clearly, neither of you was watching. "Terry, stop," you giggled, moving his hand away from the inside of your shirt. As much as you wanted him to take you, you love being a tease.
"Watch the movie," you said, pointing to the TV. He paused, removed his hands away from you, and crossed his arms while staring at you with a look.
"Don't make that face," you said, looking over at him. Wrapping your arm around his shoulder, you began playing with his ear, causing him to smack his teeth.
"Why shouldn't I? I haven't seen you in weeks. I miss you and want to show you how much I do. I know you do, too," Terry said, giving you a knowing look.
You smiled, didn't say anything, and just rearranged yourself onto his lap and pulled him into a needy, passionate kiss. You pulled away for a second to take your shirt off.
Terry growls at the sight of your breasts; he's very weak. He caresses your body with his soft, large hands while leaving soft kisses on your neck.
His hands moved down your ass and squeezed it harshly before pulling you back into a kiss. Both of you stood from the couch and began to tear each other's clothes off.
You both feeling so aroused and craving for each other. Terry lifted you up, carrying your bridal style, and asked. "Where is your bedroom?"
"It's right around the corner," you said, helping him with the direction. He opened the door and glanced around your cozy bedroom before gently laying you on your bed.
Terry hovered over you and began kissing up your body; you could feel his throbbing, erect dick pressing against your leg. "Terry, please, no teasing. I need you now,"
You moaned as he began to kiss your wet folds. He looked up at you, seeing the need in your eyes. "Of course, my baby needs me." He nodded with a smirk, kissing his way back to your lips.
Terry positioned himself between your legs, and you moaned, wrapping your legs around his hips as you felt him thrusted forward, fulling you up good.
The very good feeling of his dick sliding into your wet pussy almost sent you over the edge. Without warning, Terry began pounding into you, making you grip his back.
Terry lowers his lips to yours and kisses you hungrily while still pounding into you with an unimaginable speed. He bites your shoulder and lets out a muffled moan.
He pulls away to look at you as you let out a moan, feeling yourself clench around his dick already. It was all so good, and desperately wanted to last.
"Ahh, fuck. I miss you, baby; I miss this pussy so much," Terry moans, rearranging the sex position to missionary to the lotus. He lifted you into his arms as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
"Fuck, fuck fuck me, Terry," You moaned, throwing your head back as you felt the undeniable, great pleasure that both of you were giving to each other.
The rocking rhythm of it all and the deep connection were sensational. Your moans were so loud together that you swear you were next-door neighbors who could hear the two of you.
You placed your forehead against Terry's, both of you panting heavily, looking into his beautiful, light eyes as his fast pounding drove you crazy.
"Ahh Yes, Terry. Fuck, I love you; I love this dick," You moaned, feeling your body begin to flutter as you felt yourself get closer to the edge of orgasm.
"You love me, huh?" Terry asked, pulling your hair sightly. You nodded shyly, not realizing you had blurted it out, and felt slightly nervous to repeat it.
"Come on, baby, let me hear you say it again," Terry said, tugging your hair again but a little harder than before, causing you to whimper in pleasure.
"I love youâŚI love youâŚI love you, Terry," you chanted loudly with every thrusted he gave you until he kissed you passionately, feeling satisfied.
"Mmm...I fucking love you too, baby so damn much." He moaned, grabbed your shoulders, and you moaned, burying your face into his neck.
Terry pounding harder and faster to the point both of you orgasm together. Both of you screamed each other's names as your bodies shook from the high.
Terry tries to stay steady and hold you but eventually falls on top of you towards the bed. After a few breaths, Terry pulls out, watching his cum dripping before cleaning you up.
He lays down next to you, caressing your cheek with his hand before Terry pulls you into his chest, hearing you mumbling something and you close your eyes and fall asleep from the good dick you just had.
The following morning, the sunlight shone through the blinds, casting on your glowing dark-brown skin, and Terry couldn't help but admire your beauty.
Your silk-pressed hair was sweated, your lips were open, and a little snore came from your mouth. He couldn't help but caress your cheek, lingering on your neck.
Terry smiled happily as you started to stir, slightly mumbling some under your breath as you stretched out your limbs before cuddling back into his chest.
Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks before they opened, revealing your warm eyes. You looked up at Terry with a slight smile, who was staring at you.
"You know it's not nice to stare," You said, yawning as his eyes sparkled with the light seeping in from the cracked blind. "I know I can't help it, you're so beautiful"
You felt your heart flutter; it was wonderful how this man affected you so strongly. "Good morning, baby," he added.
"Morning!" you said, yawning again. Terry smiled, but slowly, that smile turned into a frown. You were about to get out of bed, and he stopped you.
"Where do you think you're going?!" Terry asked, pulling you back into the bed, causing you to giggle. "To start my morning routine and shower if that's okay with you, handsome."
"Yeah, but only if I join," He said, kissing the sweet spot on your neck, causing you to let out a small moan.
"Mmm, okay, but you gotta catch me," You said playfully, rushing off the bed.
"Hey," Terry growled, jumping out of bed. You giggled as you ran into the bathroom; right behind you was him.
You and Terry had a fantastic weekend and continued to have those weekends, but as a few months went by, you two still made time for each other, working around strict job schedules.
You slowly felt this wouldnât work out and began to distance yourself. Terry immediately noticed you werenât answering his calls or texts like you used to.
You always give him a rundown of your day, morning to night, ask about him, make sure he's doing well, ask about his work, and try to plan another weekend to see each other.
âHey, boss, everything alright?â One of his employees approached Terry with a concerned look on his face.
He nodded and said, âYeah, you think you can hold down the restaurant for me? I got sort of an emergencyâ
âSure thing, I got you. Go handle your businessâ Marcus nodded, giving him a dap and reassuring expression.
âThanks, Marcus!â Terry said, grabbing his jacket and keys. He was so worried that he was on his way to Lafayette to see you and figure out what was wrong because he didnât like this distance from you.
Meanwhile, you were just getting off work, checking your phone, and seeing multiple notifications from Terry. You sighed and ignored them.
You grabbed your bag and phone and went to look for an Uber on it since your car was in the shop until the next day. You were almost out of the door until you heard a familiar voice call your name.
âHey, weâre going to get some drinks, you should comeâ Quentin said, walking alongside you and you werenât gonna lie before you went on this trip and met Terry.
You had a slight crush on Quentin. I mean, he was a fine, brown-skinned brother with charm. You were surprised he was even talking to you.
You guessed that after coming back from the trip, you had this new glow that attracted more people. You were less shy and introverted and more talkative and open to others.
âOh come on, it would be fun,â He said, and you thought about it for second looking into his brown eyes. âOkay, Iâll go, only because my car is in the shop and I need a ride homeâ
âWell, Iâm your guy,â he said charmingly. You, Quentin, and a few other co-workers went to a bar and had a great time. Quentin made sure you went home, and you and the two were laughing.
Quentin walked you to your front door, not noticing the car in your driveway. Terry was watching the whole thing. He texted you earlier that he was here, but you didn't answer.
So he was just waiting for you to come home, and now seeing you and this guy, he thought the worst. However, he tried to keep a level head and not jump to conclusions.
âThanks for inviting me and giving me a ride, Q. I had a lot funâ You said, turning towards him with a friendly smile.
âOf course, anytime. UmâŚI was wondering ifâŚâ He started, getting this look in his eyes, and you knew where this was going, so you stopped him quickly.
âI have a boyfriend,â You said shyly, looking away for a second, then back at him. He looked slightly disappointed but changed his expression fast.
âOh, shitâŚof course you do, beautiful woman like had to be taken sorry,â Quentin said, and you were about to say something until you heard a car door open and closed loudly.
âWhat the hell is going on here?â A familiar voice came out. You and Quentin turned your head, and Terry came up from his car. You didn't notice it in the driveway.
Your heart began racing, and you felt slightly scared, not for yourself but for Quentin; you had not seen this level of fire and possessiveness in Terry's eyes until now.Â
It was hot and scary at the same time. Terry approached your side, wrapped his hand tightly around your waist, and saw a look at Quentin.
âUhâŚQuentin, this is my boyfriend, Terry, and TerryâŚâ You started clearing your throat before you could finish your sentence. Terry cut you off and said, âI donât give a fuck. Who is he? Why is he here?â
âMy brotherâŚ.was just.â Quentin began but Terry didnât let him finish.
âI ainât yo brother, I donât fucking know youâ Terry said, raising his voice a little bit and you placed your hand on his chest to calm him down while looking up at him.
âTerry, relax. Quentin is my coworker. Me, Him, and some of my other coworkers went out for drinks. He was just making sure I was getting home safe,â you explained, trying to reassure Terry, but the tension in his posture was still firm.
âLookâŚIma go, Iâll see ya at work,â Quentin said to you before rushing off to get in his car and drive away fast. You scoffed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
You got your keys out, opened the front door, and looked at Terry, motioning him to get inside. Terry bit his bottom lip, looking away, before walking into the house, with you following him behind.
You closed the door, locked it, and placed your bag on the side table. âWhat was that, and what are you doing here?â You asked, following Terry into your living room and watching him go sit on the couch.
"Nah, I donât think I need to explain myself. Whatâs up with you and the old boy?" he replied, folding his arms and looking at you.
"TerryâŚlike I said, Quentin is just my co-worker, nothing more or less. You think I can't talk to other men just because I'm with you? Even when Itâs just an innocent conversation!" you shot back, frustrated.
"It didnât look like just an innocent conversation to me," Terry said defensively. "You were smiling at him like you wanted him or something."
"Don't make this into something itâs not, Terry," you said, calm but firm as you took your shoes off. "I was just being friendly and thanking him, thatâs all."
"Friendly? You were practically fucking flirting with him!" Terry shot back, his expression tightening.
"Flirting? Is that what you call it? I was just being polite! You're being fucking ridiculous right now, Terry," you countered, crossing your arms in frustration.
Terry shook his head. "I donât want you to talk to âQuentinâ again. He was clearly interested, and he wanted something from you."
You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Terry, I'm allowed to talk to people, especially my co-workers, man or woman. Plus, I made it clear to Quentin before you jumped out of your car and acted all possessive and shitâŚ.I told him that I have a boyfriend."
âI donât want him or anyone else. I want you, Terry,â You added, moving towards him, and Terry's expression softened with a flicker of remorse.
âIâm sorry, baby, but I justâŚ.these past few days, youâve been distant, not answering my calls or texts, and I needed to see you. When I saw you with Quentin, I donât know; I just thought the worst and saw red, " he expressed.
You took a breath and grabbed hold of his hand before next to him on the couch. âIâm sorry too, Terry. I shouldâve answered your calls and textsâŚI guess Iâm still trying to work on my communication.â
âHey, itâs okay," he started, looking at you softly. "Do you really drive two hours to come to see me?" You asked with a slight smile.
"Yeah, I was worried, baby. Whatever it is that's going on, I need you to know that I'm here to listen and that you don't have to shut me out. â Terry said softly, kissing your hand, making your heart flutter.
âI thought this short long-distance relationship would work, but Iâve been doubting. I'm gonna be honest, Terry..." You paused for a second, looking away before back at him.
You added, "I canât keep up with us driving two hours back and forth to see each other; I want you close and right by my side."
Terry took a breath and nodded before speaking. âI understand, baby and I can't either. So it got me thinking, and I've decided to move here and be here with youâ
Your eyes almost bugged out. âWhat? No, I canât let you do that, Terry. You gotta think this throughâŚ" You paused, searching his eyes, and you see he had made his mind up.
"My mind is made up," Terry said with a smile. "But your whole family lives in New Orleans, and your job, the restaurant. You would really give that up for me?â You asked, shaking your head.
âYeah, itâs worth it because I want to be where you are, the woman Iâm madly in love with." He starts caressing your cheek with his soft hand.
"I donât want to lose you, baby. You are the best thing that ever happened to me in a long time. Iâm not letting you go so easy,â Terry added.
His eyes locked onto yours, a fierce determination lighting them. You held his gaze, feeling everything else fade away as tears of happiness came down your face. "Okay, Terry."
"Okay, good!" he said, his voice low, filled with love and devotion that sent shivers down your spine.
"I missed you, you know that?" Terry said, pressing his forehead against yours and you nodded.
"I missed you too, Terry, so damn much!" You cried, and he pulled you into his chest and brushed a stray tear from your cheek.
You trembled at his touch as his fingers wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "I love you so much, baby. You know that, right?"
"I do, and I love you so much, too." It was almost a whisper on your lips, but he heard you. Terry smiled, slowly moved in, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.
You moaned softly, placing your hand on his cheek before slowly pulling away and grabbing hold of his hand. You got up, and he did the same and followed you to your bedroom.
You let go of his hand and went to your dresser. There, you grabbed a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Terry, whose eyebrows raised curiously.
"Do whatever you want with me; I'm yours forever, Terry," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. This caused him to grin and his eyes to darken.
"Mmm, my nasty girl wants to be handcuffed, huh?" He asked, roughly cupping your chin with his massive hand, causing you to whimper.
You nodded. "Yes!"
"Yes, who?" He asked, still cupping your chin while tilting his head to look at you with gentle dominance.
"Yes, Daddy!" You corrected, already feeling wet with the way he stared into your soul and towering over you with his height.
Terry lets go of your chin, straightening his posture, folding his hands against his stomach, and says, "Strip!"
You slowly take each piece of clothing off while keeping eye contact with him, watching the desire on his face deepen. You were completely naked now, slightly feeling a breeze hit your nipples.
"Mmm, so fucking gorgeous baby. Turn around," Terry says, motioning with his finger. You turn around and feel the heat of his hands on your wrist.
Terry wrapped the cold metal of the handcuff on you and locked them before giving your ass smack. He turned you around to face him and pressed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.
Terry pulls away and helps you get down on your knees before him. You bite your lip, looking up at him for a second, then to his pants. He unbuttons them and pulls them down with his boxer.
You let out a moan as your mouth began drooling at the sight of his big, juicy dick so hard and throbbing. Terry took his hoodie off before grabbing hold of your face.
"You think you can suck me with no hands for me, baby girl?" He asked, and you nodded with confidence. "Yes, I can Daddy"
"Mmm, okay. Go ahead, make Daddy proud," Terry said, hitting his dick against your face before you wrapped your mouth around his dick.
You started to suck him and bob your head slowly while looking up at him, causing him to moan. You began to move your head faster, making Terry grip the back of your head.
âFuck, baby just like that, just like thatâ Terry moaned as you continued to suck him as he began to play with your breasts and you took him fully into your mouth,
He let out a moan at the warmth of your mouth, gripping your hair and popping you off of him. You gasped with saliva, looking up at him with desire in your eyes.
"Mmm, fuck I ain't gonna last if you keep looking at me like that, sweet girl. So fucking beautiful: Terry moaned, watching you sucking him back into your mouth.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, open your mouth wider, baby," Terry chanted, grabbing your hair and beginning fucking into your mouth, causing you to moan and your eyes to water slightly.
He pulls out of your mouth, saliva dropping, and slaps his dick against your face causing you to chuckle. "Mmm, yes, love it when you slap me with your big dick."
âShit...girl..." He continues, and then you take him back into your mouth. "Yes, yes, yes, just like that, keep sucking this dick so goodâ Terry bites his lip and throws his head back, moaning in pleasure.
You continued to bob your head up and down faster, looking into his eyes, always loving the expression of pleasure he made when you sucked him off.
"Shit, shit, shit, i'm gonna come!" Terry shouted, his panting extremely heavy. His muscles tensed up, veins almost popping from his arms with a loud moan.
You moaned muffled, feeling him release his seed into your mouth. The warm liquid trickled down your throat as he pulled out. You adjust yourself on the floor and taste his cum.
"Mmm, It tastesâŚsweet, Daddy," You said with a giggle, showing him the cum on your tongue, causing him to let out a moan at the amazing sight.
"You truly are my nasty girl!" He said after a couple of minutes of catching his breath. He went to get a wet washcloth to wipe your mouth before helping you up on the bed.
He didnât waste any time on putting you on all four, spreading your ass cheeks, and pushing his tongue in your pool of sweetness and lavish wetness.
âOh, ahhh, yesâ You moaned into the sheets, feeling his tongue moving in and out of your wet pussy folds while adding two fingers into your dripping hole.
He began moving them back and forth between the two. Your moans chanted came louder than before as his tongue and fingers moved faster.
"Pussy is pretty and tastes so good, baby. So delicious, how am I so lucky to have you, huh?" Terry asked, giving you little licks here and there.
âOh shit...Terry, don't stop, please,â You moaned, and he smirked, removed his tongue and his fingers, and replaced them with his dick, making you come.
"Oh my god, oh my.....Terry," You moaned, feeling yourself come hard on his dick as your body began shaking. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head.
Terry grabbed your wrist with his left hand and smacked your ass with his other before thrusted into you hard, causing you to gasp and moan.
"Terry, wait, please," You said, trying to move away, feeling sensitive; he didn't care and continued to grab your wrist and thrusted faster and harder.
âMmm, fuck, baby, you're gushing, you hear that, baby?â Terry asked, pulling out slowly and thrusted his dick in and out of your pussy, causing wet sounds from your pussy.
"Yes, yes, ahh," You moaned, tilting your head slightly to look back at him with so much pleasure and want. "Fuck me, fuck your pussy, fuck all of me, giving all of that dick deeper."
"Mmm, baby girl. Keep talking nasty to me; you wanted it deeper?!" Terry moaned in pleasure and gave your ass a smack on the cheek and went slightly deeper.
"Shit, yes just like that." You moaned; he always knew how just you wanted and made you feel so good. Terry was looking down at the crack between his dick moving in and out of you.
The sensation of just thrusting in and out, feeling your walls, was everything. He smacked your ass, then grabbed a hand full of your ass cheek to spread them wide.
Halfway through, he takes the handcuffs off of you and pulls out of you. "Ride me, baby. I want to see that pretty face," Terry said, going to lay on his back, and you crawled on top of him.
You positioned his dick to slide into your pussy, causing both of you to moan. You placed your hands on his chest and began to bounce up and down his dick.
He smacks your ass with a growl, and you bit your lip, rolling your hips and grinding against him. You look down at him, meeting his eyes and feeling yourself clenching around him.
Terry opens his mouth in an O shape, watching every expression on your face, being in awe of you fixed on your breasts and loving how you moan his name and your eyes flutter at him.
His hands leaving your ass to caress up along your back softly. "Fuck, girl, keep looking at me like that, fuck with those pretty eyes. Might come and put fucking baby in."
His words made your body flutter slightly. You grinned at him and asked, "Mmm, do you want me to have your baby, big daddy?"
"Shit, yeah, I bet you'll look so damn sexy pregnant with our kid." He said, reaching up to squeeze your breasts. "Especially seeing these beauties all big and vein-filled with milk."
You knew he was just talking, but how he looked at you told you something else. The thought of having a baby with Terry in the future was ideal.
âAhh...yes, yes, yes I wanna have your baby, Terry, one day,â You chanted out between moans, feeling your orgasm start to get close as you clenched around his throbbing, full of cum dick.
His hips slammed into your ass, feeling his balls hit at a different angle. "I'll give it ya one day if you wanted it, filled you up," he grunted, wrapping his hand around your neck.
"Fuck, yes fuck I'm gonna cum! fuck meâ You screamed as he continued thrusted into you. âMe too, baby, together.â Terry let out a choked out of moan, his face scrunching in pleasure as both of you came together.
You blinked, seeing stars as you felt him release his seed deep inside of you, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head before letting out a soft sigh of contentment.
You dropped on Terry's chest, burying your face in his neck. He kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back.
Terry lies on your back and cleans you with the same washcloth he used earlier. He then takes a breath, lays beside you, and pulls you into his arms.
He looks at your face to find you knocked out, causing him to grow a chuckle. "I will try to make you a mother one day." His hand slowly reaches your belly, caressing it in circles with a hopeful smile.
#terry richmond x black reader#terry richmond x reader#terry richmond smut#terry richmond x black!reader#terry richmond fic#terry richmond fanfiction#aaron pierre#aaron pierre x black reader#terry richmond#terry richmond x black fem reader#black!fem!reader#black fem reader#terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader#terry Richmond x plus size reader#terry richmond x fem reader
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Excerpt (and some summary) of Judeâs main story chapter 1
ę° Ö´ Öş âš @ notice âš Öş Ö´ ęą any pretty translation you may see in here may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. this is a sort of summary as well. if you enjoy, though, please consider reblogging, but please donât repost these or claim these as your own!
ok so like the chapter starts off with jude and ellis beatin some dudes ahh bc breach of contract. ig thats sorta like the prologue so to speak.
since jude is an act 2 route, vogel is featured in here. darius is like âhmm jude jazza huh. p interesting. nicaâ and nica comes in like âyeah you want me to look into him? sure, im interested in him too (/p likely)â
its revealed that since her time as fairytale keeper, kate had accompanied basically everyone on a mission? except jude and ellis. ellis wants to accompany her tbf but judes like tf hell no.
needless to say, kate hasâŚless than positive first impressions of jude.
but she finally sees some light when harry gives her a memo telling her to go to the pub at 22:00 bc thereâs gonna be a mission with jude and ellis. but turns out by the time she gets there, the missions already done and rogers there at the pub lmao
kate goes to jude whos smokin in the back like âyou lied to me :(â and jude kinda doesnt get all that fazed abt it like ânever told ya the mission would start at 22:00.â he reveals that basically he hates it when its all like the âlets all get alongâ sorta gist yk.
then they have like this back and forth thats smth like âno point in being liked bc i got no gain from that.â âdoes that mean youre ok with being hated?â âwhat, do ya wanna be liked by everyone?â you get the point. they just do not. see eye to eye. like at all.
and so, we come to this point where kate makes a promise with him like âiâll find smth i like abt you by the time my tenure as fairytale keeper ends!â (this is around where the first cg is, which btw is called the first promise we made was wrapped in white smoke)
Jude: Hah, alright then. if ya goinâ that far then do what ya want.
After our back and forth, like walking on eggshells, i finally succeeded in getting him to say those words.
Kate: Okay! Then Iâll do just that.
I used my hand to wave off the smoke that seemed to separate us two and took a step toward him, whenâŚ
Jude, while veiled in the white smoke, laughed with scorn.
Jude: But thereâs one thing ya should keep in mind, princess. âŚMy promises donât come cheap.
J: If ya break âem, Iâll make ya go through so much oâ hell youâll be wishinâ for death.
Amid the refined scent of sandalwood, far removed from his image, and the sweet scent of tobacco that burned my chest,
Jude and I made our first promise.
other impt events? is that jude literally comes out with a contract after victors like âi heard youre gonna be judes exclusive fairytale keeper!â and kates like what. but kate signs the contract in the end.
another thing; kate thinks âtheres no way i could ever like himâ đ¸
ko-fiâď¸ â comms����
#ikemen villains#ikevil#ă¤ăąăĄăłă´ăŁăŠăł#ikevil jude#ikevil jude jazza#jude jazza#ikemen villains jude#cybird ikemen series#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#ikemen series#otome game#otome
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a lover's redemption | chapter 3
chapter 3. the new normal
pairing â Â mafia leader!park jimin x reader
genre â Â mafia AU â romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)
summary â Â Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.
word count â Â 13.3k
18+ | warnings â Â drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).
taglist is open â dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3
notes â please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3
17th July 2009
The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.
âThey confirmed the crash?â Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.
Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.
Han-Jae nodded. âMostly. But he's gone.â He downed what was left of his drink. âDid we take care of the family?â
Jihoon swirls his glass. âWeâll let them go, they have no one.â
âExcept Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,â Han-jae counters.
âThey mean nothing to us.â
âBut they were loyal to Sehun.â
Upon hearing this, Jimin goes still, realising whatâs happened.Â
âTheir loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and theyâve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.â
Han-Jae says nothing else of the matter but his face does little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. âThe other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. Theyâre digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.â
Jihoonâs eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. âInconvenient?â he echoed. âThe detectives are a problem?â
Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. âNothing we canât handle.â
âFunny,â Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. âYou said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger â trafficking charges. Another detectiveâs on the case, isnât he?â His tone sharpened. âYouâve been careless, Han-Jae.â
The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. âWatch your tongue, Jihoon.â
Jihoonâs lip curled. âYouâve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."
Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."
"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."
"Foolishly?"
"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.
Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.
âIâve given you more than enough leash,â Jihoon continued, his voice rising. âBut if you think Iâll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.â
Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. âWeâll talk about this later,â he spat. âWe have somewhere to be.â
Jihoon didnât bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. âGet a gun.â
Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
âNow,â Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."
Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.
Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.
Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.
âJimin,â she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.
âI canât,â he mumbled against her shoulder. âI canât do it.â
His motherâs embrace tightened. âI never wanted this for you, Jimin,â she murmured, her voice thick with regret. âIâm so sorry.â She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. âBut this is your life now. Your father wonât wait. If you donât go back, heâll only get angrier.â
Jimin shook his head. âWhy do you let himââ His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. âYou have to go now, before he comes looking for you.â
Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.
The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them.Â
Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.
Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.
Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.
Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.
Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. âStay here,â he ordered both boys.
Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.
Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. âI warned you to stay out of my business. But now, youâre here. What do you have to say for yourself?â
The detective spat at Jihoonâs feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. âCome here.â
Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.
âNow, Jimin."
Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.
Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.
"This man is a threat to us,â Jihoon said, calmly. âEnd him.â
Jiminâs breath hitched. âI-I canâtââ
Jihoonâs hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. âYouâre weak,â he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. âYour motherâs made you soft.â
Jiminâs head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. âIs that why you always send her away?â he asked, teeth gritted. âTo keep her away from me?â
Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. âShe chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, itâs her choice. And itâs time you grew up and realised that.â
Jiminâs grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."
The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jiminâs ears long after the manâs body hit the floor.
Jihoonâs voice cut through the haze. âFinally.â
But Jimin didnât hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his fatherâs shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.
Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. âYou deal with the other one.â
Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taeminâs shoulder. âGo on, son.â
Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.
Han-Jaeâs smile faded. âDo you want to disappoint me?â
The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.
The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.
Jiminâs stomach churned violently. He couldnât bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, âIâm going to the car.â
Jihoon turned his head slightly but didnât object. âFine. Go.â
The indifference in his fatherâs voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.
The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.
The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.
He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.
His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.
When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detectiveâs lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.
âThis is your life now,â his motherâs voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.
His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didnât come. They couldnât â not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.
Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.
Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.
As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.
Present day
It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that youâre dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isnât yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.
But it doesnât happen.Â
As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.
The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and youâll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing youâre sure of, is that youâre safe.Â
Looking around the room youâre in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with â now the man who saved your lifeâŚ
It hasnât escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun wouldâve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you.Â
Youâve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that youâve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun.Â
Thereâs definitely something going on, because there mustâve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you.Â
Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whateverâs going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too.Â
Thereâs also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water â a small reminder that youâre safe here.Â
As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see itâs also been bandaged and youâre almost certain youâll find stitches under there. Youâre also wearing clothes that arenât yours â a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You donât remember anything since falling unconscious but youâre sure one of the housemaids mustâve dressed you.
Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which youâre sure must show the events that took place at your home â you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that.Â
Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongiâs name. Just before you can press call, thereâs a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly.Â
A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit⌠Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.
âYoongi.âÂ
He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.���Y/N.â Walking over to your bed, he doesnât hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.
Heâs been working for Jimin, of course he has â his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your fatherâs death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, youâve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too â someone you once considered a best friend.
âWhy didnât you just tell me?â you ask finally.
âI didnât want to complicate things,â he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by thatâŚÂ
You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return â for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew.Â
 âI need something in return.â
Yoongi lifted his head calmly. âIs everything okay?â
You nodded, placing the key down on the table. âJust, promise me youâll do it first.â
At this, Yoongiâs expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated.Â
Meeting his gaze, you said his name. âPlease.â
âAlright.â Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. âI promise.â
There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something youâd been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what wouldâve been your fatherâs fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and youâd known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasnât a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and youâd noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadnât seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence â that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.
âI want to know who killed my dad.âÂ
The words felt strange on your tongue â though your dadâs murder wasnât a secret to you, you didnât often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi.Â
Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. âI donât think itâs a good idea.â
You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. âYou know.â
He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. âAnd I think you already know.â
The anger and frustration youâd been holding on to for years began to surface.âIt was them, wasnât it?â
Yoongi looked up. âY/Nââ
âLee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?â
Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap.Â
âDo you know why?â
âY/N, please, donâtââ
âYou promised, Yoongi.â
Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. âAlright, Iâll tell you what you want to know.â
âEverything.â
So he didâŚ
Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Leeâs, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyunâs intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving.Â
The Leeâs had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,
âThe one that closed down months ago?â you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongiâs from there on one of your errands for him..
âYes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?â
âLeeâs son?â
âYes.â
You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance.Â
âClosing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.â
âThe Benitoite.â
Yoongi nodded. âA clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.â Looking up, Yoongi carried on. âOnce that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.â
âThey killed her?â
Another nod.
Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldnât say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didnât make any of this easier to hear.
Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. âYou okay?â
âFine. Tell me.â
âWhen that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasnât opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae werenât just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.â
Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.
âThey knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out. Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didnât care who it was.Â
âA mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.â
You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dadâs friends you thought of them as family while growing up. Itâs true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you wouldâve expected of them.
âSo thatâs why they killed my dad?âÂ
Yoongi shook his head. âNot exactly.â Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. âThere was a lot happening around that time, I donât know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.â
Your stomach curled.
âThey wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.â
âBut they didnât.â
âNo. And truthfully I donât think your dad ever believed them anyway.â
It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly.Â
Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. âY/N,â he spoke softly. âI can tell you the rest another time.â
You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like youâve heard enough, but you need to know. âWhat more is there? They killed him after that, no?â
Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongiâs face. âNot quite.â He paused, waiting.Â
Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue.Â
âDid you know Han-jae was married twice?â
Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasnât always there. âYeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?â
âNot exactly, Jiyoung wasnât Han-jaeâs daughter.âÂ
Now, this was news to you.Â
âAnd her mom wasnât a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.âÂ
The arranged marriage wasnât a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your fatherâs affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadnât known that Han-jaeâs first wife despised him.Â
âAfter she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didnât like her just as much as she didnât like him, soâŚÂ he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.â
Eyes widening, you asked, âThe nightclub?â
Yoongi nodded, looking down. âBut your dad saved her.â
Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.
Yoongi continues. âHe knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.â
And just like that, it all made sense. âSo thatâs why they killed him.â
Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. âIt was a means to an end for them,â he murmured. âHan-jae and Jihoon had changed. They werenât who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.â
Yoongiâs words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger⌠your dadâs closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.
That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you canât help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.
âStill couldâve told me,â you mumble, looking away from him.
âWould it have made a difference to anything?â he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile.Â
Realising heâs right, you frown indignantly. âMightâve stopped this,â you say, knowing itâs a weak point.
Yoongiâs expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. âNothing couldâve stopped this.â
Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil.Â
Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. âYou need to tell me everything you know.â
Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. âI donât actually know much,â you start, âSeojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He mustâve known who I was but I didnât realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, heâd left and there was a note on the table.â Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi. âThis is what it said.âÂ
Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, Sheâs the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. âHe mustâve known, but I donât know how.â Looking up, he asks, âyou never told him anything about your grandma?âÂ
âNo,â you shake your head. âHe just knew.â Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun⌠he had a girlfriend. âYoongi?â You meet his gaze with worried eyes. âHe had a girlfriend.â
Yoongiâs expression softens, lips pursing. âYeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.â
Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You donât bother asking how sheâs doing, that would be a pointless question â you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, youâre certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away⌠youâd never seen your mom in so much pain.Â
As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. âDid he not say anything at all about what heâd been doing?â
Yoongi shakes his head. âWe knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.â Again, Yoongiâs expression looks pained.Â
âWhy?â
âA few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and thereâs since been a good few detectives on their case. Taeminâs uncle got some time in prison for it and even though heâs out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him⌠so they killed Seojunâs mom.â Â
The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. âSo Seojun wanted to get back at them?â
Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. âJimin warned him not to, he promised theyâd work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, weâd join in on it.â Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. âWe never got to find out what it was, and each week weâd see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish weâd taken more care.âÂ
Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you donât think you know how. âIâm sorry, Yoongi,â you murmur.Â
He gives a small smile. âFinish telling me what happened.â
Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. âI left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.â Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.
Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. âDid he say whatâs on it?â
âNo,â you shake your head. âAnd itâs probably protected too since the Leeâs wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.â At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. âHe kept saying heâd keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.â
âBut you didnât.â
âI couldnât. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the endâŚâ you trail off, looking down. âIn the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.â You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in.Â
When youâre done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. âMinjun was a fucking psychopath.â
âYeah, he seems like it,.â You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him.Â
âHe has a brother, Kwan, heâs just as crazy, if not worse.â
The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you canât imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasnât really been on your side recently.
âHey,â Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. âYou okay?â
âMhm,â you nod.Â
He smiles softly. âYour wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.âÂ
âThanks, I probably wonât use them though.â
âYeah, I thought youâd say that.â
Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. âItâs not deep is it?â
Yoongi shakes his head. âYou got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,â he looks up at you apologetically, âyouâll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.âÂ
âOh.â You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and youâre sure thereâs more damage to the property that youâre not even aware of.Â
âJimin is making all the arrangements,â Yoongi continues, âbut heâs trying to keep things quiet so I donât know exactly when things will be sorted.â
âHe doesnât have to, I can do it myself.â
âHe wants to,â Yoongi responds. âHe blames himself for whatâs happened, so just let him please.â His words appear to carry more meaning, and you canât imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.
âWhy?â
âHe blames himself for a lot of things,â Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. âThis hasnât helped.â
Even though itâs been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest â ever since youâve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldnât even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you donât know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.
Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, âWhat happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?â
Yoongi looks up, grimacing. âIt started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasnât happy.Â
âAnd then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.â
âTaemin?!â you ask, surprised..
Yoongi nods. âHe knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasnât fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.â His expression darkens. âHe watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. Iâm so grateful we were with him that dayâŚâ He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.
He doesnât need to say anymore for you to know what he means â Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too.Â
Your head lowers too. You donât allow your thoughts to wonder what wouldâve happened if Jimin had been alone, youâre just glad he got out. Though you canât imagine what he mustâve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.
âDid he get to have a funeral for his dad?â
âYeah,â Yoongi answers. âHan-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasnât having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and heâd lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.â
Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything heâs just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that theyâve fallen apart as well.Â
After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. âI was surprised when they brought you in.â You look up at him as he continues. âI thought he mightâve recognised you, but he said nothing.â
âDo you think he does?â you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. âBut heâs just not saying it?â
Yoongi shrugs. âMight be. If he does remember you though, heâll say something.â
âAre you going to tell them?â you ask, looking at him.
âOnly if you want me to.â
After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. âAt least not yet.â
Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything thatâs happened, and then it comes to you.
âDani and Siho,â you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. âDid you get them out?â
Solemnly, Yoongi nods. âI sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.â
âThank you,â you murmur. âLet me know what they say, Iâll sort it out for them..â
Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. âThey knew the risks, Y/N, better than anyone else.â
âI know,â you sigh. âBut itâs different, they were there because of me.â
âYeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,â Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. âSorry if this isnât helping, you know Iâm shit at comforting people.â
You smile. âI know.â
âHey, youâre not any better though,â he says defensively, âyou didnât even hug me properly when my mom passed away.â
âWhat?â you chuckle. âI tried to, but I know you donât like hugs.â
Yoongi shrugs. âNot normally, but then I would've liked it.â
âOhâŚâ Now you feel bad. âReally?â
He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. âItâs okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.â
Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. âYeah, youâre telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?â It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.
âYes, actually,â Yoongi answers simply.Â
Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You donât know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself.Â
As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. âSurprised?â
âKind of.â
âYou knew him though,â he says, as though that makes it so obvious.
âKnew,â you repeat. âI didnât expect him to still be the same.â
Yoongi hums in agreement. âI wouldnât say heâs changed, but I wouldn't exactly say heâs the same eitherâŚâ looking up, he smiles again. âI guess youâll get to see for yourself now.â
âI guess so,â you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you canât ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, youâll get to see for yourself if heâs anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you donât think he wouldâve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.
âDâyou want something a bit more filling than that?â Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple youâve just bitten into. âDinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?â
âOh, yeah, actually,â you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. âI am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.â
âSure,â Yoongi chuckles, âyou must be hungry, youâve been sleeping for almost three days.â
You look up at him with wide eyes. âThree days?!â When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. âI need to call Moni, sheâs probably woââ
âI already have,â Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.
Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. âWhat?â
âI already called her.â
A frown settles on your face. âWhat did you say?â
Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. âEverything, but Y/N, she needed to know.â
âThat wasnât your decision to make.â
âI know,â Yoongi sighs. âSorry.â
For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and itâs not like sheâs a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasnât related to any of the stuff youâve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and whatâs happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.
âSorry,â you say. âYouâre right, I just didnâtâŚâ you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and youâre everything to her, just as she has been yours.Â
âI know,â Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.
âWhat did she say?âÂ
âFirst, she just wanted to know if you were safe,â Yoongi answers. âAfter that, she didnât say much except that sheâll come as soon as she can.â
You nod. Knowing sheâs coming brings a smile to your face, youâve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again.Â
âCome on,â Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, âletâs get you some food.â
âYou still remember it?â Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.
Taking another step, you shrug. âI wasnât that little when I was last here, I mustâve been, what, eleven? Twelve?âÂ
âHm, Yoongi hums. âStill impressive.â He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but youâre doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.
The Park Estate isnât much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jiminâs. Itâs flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the familyâs quarterâs on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge.Â
Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg.Â
As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You canât see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on.Â
âJiminâs room is down there,â he says, answering your unspoken question.
âAh,â you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.
The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.
Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase youâre approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is.Â
As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you donât respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.
âLightningâŚÂ is it a storm?â you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.Â
âYes,â he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.Â
âWhat does it mean?â
âSometimes it can mean power,â he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. âBut sometimes it can also mean punishment.â
You looked up, frowning.
He smiled. âSometimes, too much power isnât a good thing. If youâre not a good person, then it can be dangerous.â
âOhâŚâ You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey heâd used to paint the night sky. In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. âWho is it for?â you asked.
Your dadâs smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. âAn old friend.â
The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia.Â
âMy dad painted this,â you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas.Â
He doesnât say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though heâs never seen it before. âItâs beautiful.â
Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an âold friendâ, you know your father mustâve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldnât trust Han-jae and Jihoon.
Just then, Yoongiâs phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. âCome down if you can, or Iâll ask someone to come up,â he calls out as heâs already walking off towards the stairwell.
âOkay,â you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.
Itâs not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but itâs also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. Thereâs a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and itâs a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldnât return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your fatherâs own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.
You donât realise youâre standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.
âAdmiring the art?â he asks.Â
âMhm,â you hum, still watching his face â you didnât realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you canât stop staring.Â
He chuckles, glancing at the painting. âYou know I was talking about the painting, not me?â
Shaking out of your daze, you smile. âYes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.â
âAh, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,â he nods, still smiling. âIâm Seokjin, but call me Jin.â He extends his hand which you shake.
âY/N, and itâs okay, not your fault.â
âHowâs the wrist?â he asks, pointing to your wrist.
âOh, itâs okay,â you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts.Â
âGood. And the leg?â
âItâs mostly fine,â you nod.
He smiles again. âThatâs good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but itâs looking good so far. I didnât expect you to be up so soon though,â he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.
You shrug.
 âI take it this isnât your first time getting hurt like this?â Seokjin says casually.
 âWhat makes you think that?â
âYou didnât flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gunâŚâ he shakes his head, smiling. âIt definitely wasnât your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.â
Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again. âI guess I like getting shot at.â
âJust like everyone else here,â he laughs. âWell, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.â
âSure,â you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. âSo what about you?â you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell.Â
He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. âWhat about me?âÂ
âThis definitely isnât your first time stitching someone up,â you remark.Â
âAh,â he nods. âDefinitely not.â
You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. âSo youâre a doctor?âÂ
He snorts, stepping along beside you. âNo, but I should be. Iâve done this kind of stuff enough times.â
Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin.Â
âJin hyung!â A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night â the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They canât see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you.Â
They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads.Â
âOh, miss L/N,â the first one comes forward, extending a hand. âIâm Jungkook, nice to meet you.â He has an adorable bunny smile and you canât help but return it with one of your own.Â
âNice to meet you Jungkook,â you reply, shaking his hand. âAnd you can call me Y/N.â
âY/N, got it,â he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly.Â
âHi, Y/N, Iâm Hoseok, Hobi for short,â he grins, shaking your hand.Â
âHey.â You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine.Â
âHow are you feeling?â Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg.Â
âUm, itâs okay,â you smile. âI can still walk at least.â
He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. âWill you be joining us for dinner?â
You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge.Â
Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table youâre sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly.Â
Before any of the guys notice youâre not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what theyâre saying. It hasnât escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasnât recognised you â if he did, surely he wouldâve told these guys since they were there too. Youâre not sure if they know anything at all about you â perhaps you shouldâve asked Yoongi about that before you came down.Â
Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, thereâs some missing.
âAre there more of you?âÂ
Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums.Â
Hoseok answers for him. âThereâs Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.â
âThey were there the other day,â Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly.Â
âNamjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,â Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. âWe always eat together whenever we can and theyâre about somewhere.âÂ
It doesnât escape you that he didnât mention Jiminâs name though.
âTaehyung is probably in the wine cellar,â Hoseok says.
âAh, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.â
Jungkook snorts. âHe thinks heâs a sommelier.â
You smile. âWell, does he make a good choice?â
âI can never tell,â Jungkook shrugs.
Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. âHeâs not matured enough.â
âHey!â Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.
âAh, speak of the devil!âÂ
You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.
âYoongi said youâd come down,â the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. âIâm Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.â
âHi, Taehyung,â you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. Heâs undeniably striking, and thereâs something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.
The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. âIâm Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.â His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. âFinances, logistics, making sure this place doesnât fall apart.â
âNice to meet you, Namjoon,â you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.
Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. âHow are you? I imagine this isnât how you thought your day would go.â
You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. âNot exactly, no.â
Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. âYeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people wouldâve frozen in your position.â
âNot the first time Iâve had to defend myself,â you reply simply, not offering much else.
Thereâs a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.
âSo,â Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. âYoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.â
âSpicy works for me,â you say, grateful for the change in subject.
Jungkook claps his hands together. âGreat! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing â youâll love it.â
As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind â running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.
You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, âSo, Y/N, whatâs your impression of the estate so far?â
âItâs... different,â you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. âBigger than I remember.â
Seokjin tilts his head. âYouâve been here before?â
You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. âNot this one exactly. Just a similar setup.â
Namjoon raises a brow but doesnât say anything else, and youâre thankful for the reprieve.
The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her â Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.
Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. Youâre certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesnât say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.
âThanks, Ara,â Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.
When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesnât. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.
âIf you need anything, let me know,â Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.
Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. âSheâs been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.â
You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.
On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. âDinnerâs ready. Letâs eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.â
Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.
"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.
"Of course. Itâs spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."
"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.
"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.
"More for us then."
As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. âYouâll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,â he says softly. âItâs easy to get lost, but it has its charms.â
You glance at him, wondering if thereâs a deeper meaning to his words. âIâll try not to get lost, then.â
He smiles faintly. âIf you do, just call out. Someone will find you.â
Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. Itâs clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why theyâve been by his side for so long â they feel like a family in their own right.
Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.
âJin-hyung, donât hog all the drumsticks,â Jungkook whines as he watches Jinâs plate pile up.
âThen grab faster,â Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.
Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. âIâm telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.â
âShould I?â Jungkook huffs dramatically. âMaybe next time Iâll just take the whole plate first.â
âDo it, and Iâll poison your portion,â Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.
Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. âDonât worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.â
You smile faintly, watching them banter. Itâs strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.
âY/N,â Taehyungâs deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. âDo you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?â
You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.
âMaybe Iâm just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,â you reply lightly.
Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. âSmart answer.â
Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. âYeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.â
âI heard that,â Jin retorts, mock-offended. âIâm ensuring quality control.â
âYouâre ensuring thereâs nothing left for the rest of us,â Hoseok counters, sipping his water.
As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. Itâs a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate.Â
âBy the way, hyung,â Namjoon says, turning to Jin. âHave you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.â
âOh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?â Jin sighs dramatically. âCanât a guy just eat in peace?â
âItâs your own fault for procrastinating,â Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.
âDonât drag me into your world of schedules,â Jin retorts. âIâm a free spirit.â
âYouâre just lazy,â Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.
âEnough guys,â Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.
Namjoonâs phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseokâs. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.
âSorry, somethingâs come up,â Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. âWeâll catch up later.â
âDonât eat all the dessert without us,â Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.
âLike weâd wait for you,â Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.
âDo they always leave like that?â you ask, genuinely curious.
âPretty much,â Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. âTheyâve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. Itâs a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.â
âOr they just like to be mysterious,â Jin adds, rolling his eyes. âHalf the time, itâs probably nothing.â
You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but thereâs no denying the underlying layers to their lives.
After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.
âYou okay?â Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. âYouâve been pretty quiet.â
You nod, brushing it off. âJust tired, I guess.â
âUnderstandable,â Jin says, rising from his seat. âYou should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.â
The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you canât shake the feeling of whatâs happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come.Â
Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. âItâs bringing back memories, huh?â He asks, seeing right through you.Â
âYep.â You look around. âLoads. I donât know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.â You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.
âI think itâs normal. You were young when you came here and I donât think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?â
Heâs right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoungâs occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, itâs like walking through a memory you canât decide if youâre grateful for or aching to forget.
You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesnât press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.
Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life youâre now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the houseâs front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.
Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly.Â
Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldnât hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driverâs seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.
Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you canât see the estateâs gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind â a familiar marker from years ago.
âWhere are they going?â you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.
âSomethingâs wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. Theyâve been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons theyâre now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.â
You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jiminâs motherâs garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.
As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isnât much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.
Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. âI think youâre due for your meds again.â
You exhale softly, nodding. âYeah, I think so.â
âYou wanna stay here or go back up?â
You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. âMm, I know I slept for days, but Iâm actually still exhausted.â
Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. âThatâs to be expected. Donât worry.â He gestures toward the far end of the room. âWeâll go up, but this time weâre taking the lift.â
You canât help but smile faintly at his consideration. âAppreciate that,â you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.
The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.
Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine â after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.
âMoni?â you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmotherâs face appeared.
The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. âY/N,â she says softly, her voice warm. âHow are you?â
âIâm fine,â you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. âReally.â
She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. âGood. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."
You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. âTell me about Jimin.â
âHe hasnât said anything.â
âAbout recognizing you?â she asks, her brow lifting slightly.
You nod. âNothing.â
She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. âI donât imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You havenât changed much. He, however... heâs different.â
Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.
âLife hasnât been kind to him,â she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. âWhen I last saw him, I didnât see the same little boy I knew.â
A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. âLife hasnât been kind to any of us.â
Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. âDo you remember his father?â
âOf course I do,â you say without hesitation. âItâs hard to forget a man as cold as him.â
âAnd Mr. Lee?â she asks, her tone cautious.
You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. âI know, Moni,â you say quietly, cutting her off.
She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."
âI know it was them,â you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. âThey did it. They killed Dad.â
She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. âThey were his best friends,â she says softly. âAnd then, all of a suddenâŚâ She trails off.
You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. âYouâre there now, though⌠so, do you trust Jimin?â
You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.
âI didnât, at first,â you admit. âBut I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."
She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. âYouâre safe there, Y/N.â
You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. âYou trust Jimin?â
âI do,â she says without hesitation. âI trust him with you, and youâre my everything.â
The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.
âYou need to rest,â she instructs, her tone turning firm again. âIâll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.â
Your lips quirk up at the thought. âThat would be nice.â
"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.
As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.
Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You canât see the part of the grounds where Jiminâs motherâs garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.
As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.
Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.
As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadnât thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.
Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.
âCanât you sleep, little bear?â
The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.
Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier. Thereâs a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.
You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.
Realising what he just said, his words stop you short â itâs the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.
Jimin steps closer, the lampâs dim light casting soft shadows on his features. As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you â a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence. Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, thereâs a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.
âY/N,â he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. âDid you think I wouldnât recognise you?â
âI wasnât counting on it,â you admit, your voice soft. âIâm surprised you remember the book.â
Jiminâs smile grows, faint but genuine. âHow could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.â
âThank me?â you ask, tilting your head slightly.
He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. âIt was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasnât allowed picture books of my own, so⌠thank you.â
You remember then how he once told you about his fatherâs strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books â if they didnât teach something useful, they werenât worth having.
âYouâre welcome,â you say softly.
Jiminâs gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your fatherâs work.
âHe was talented,â Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.
You smile faintly. âHe was.â
After a moment, he adds, âI can have it moved to your room, if you like.â
You shake your head. âNo, no. Itâs okay. This is where it belongs.â
Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. âItâs actually covering up a stain we couldnât remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.â
âMe?â you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.
He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. âYep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didnât want to sleep, so you ran away from her â with all the paints.â
As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. âOh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.â
Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. âWe tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.â
You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. âI canât believe thatâs still here.â
Jiminâs smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. âItâs been a long time since then,â he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.
You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. âYes,â you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. âThough being here again⌠it almost feels like no time at all.â
Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. âI imagine it feels different,â he says, âwithout your father?â
âExactly,â you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. âIt felt safe wherever he was.â
âAnd now?â His question is soft, careful, as though heâs weighing each word before speaking.
You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. âI want to say yes,â you admit honestly, âbut experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.â
Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. âYouâve learned not to trust anyone,â he say, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.
You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming. âYouâre right to think that,â he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls youâve built all too well.
The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, âCan I trust you?â
His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.
âYes,â he says, his voice quiet but certain. âBut youâll make that decision on your own.â
You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. Thereâs no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. Itâs not a promise â itâs an invitation.
âUntil then,â he continues, his voice softening, âplease, make yourself at home. Youâre safe here.â
The sincerity in his words lingers, and while they arenât a guarantee, they feel real.
Jimin doesnât say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too â after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.
His presence feels closer now and you let out a faint smile, glancing back at the painting.
It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jiminâs presence stirs in you â a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.
note. thank you all so much for reading! please donât be a silent reader :â) this fic takes me forever to write and Iâd love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333
#jimin x reader#pjm#park jimin#park jimin x reader#jimin fanfic#jimin series#bts series#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#jimin imagines#jimin fluff#jimin angst#jimin smut#jimin x you#jimin x y/n#bts mafia#park jimin x you#jimin masterlist#bts masterlist
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@zepskies
I'm not kidding this might be my favorite gif ever lol. BUT I am so excited to read the last chapter of this series!! I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. đ
I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them đ But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.
âI will protect you,â she says. Dean frowns. He doesnât like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesnât want to know what itâll take for her to protect him.
Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT đđť YOURđđť MANđđť
But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safelyâŚeven if that means he wonât be. Heâs come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.
Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!
Itâs good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, sheâd already be sunk up to her shoulders. Babyâs a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.
I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so muchđ. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.
âDean!â Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyesâafraid for him.
Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!
Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he canât make his body move just yet. Heâs too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble.Â
âI guess you are pretty, for a White Man,â she says teasingly. Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown. âSweetheart, thatâs not the way you talk about a man,â he says. Her brows raise. âNo?â âHandsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,â he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. âThatâs what you wanna call a man."
I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.
âItâll be faster to dry our clothes if weâre not wearing âem,â Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.
Excuse me sir? SIR?! You know... he's right Mila. You should listen to your future husband.
Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. đ
She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still donât welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize⌠Her heart has already chosen.
Girl it's chosen correctly. No remorse. No regret. Please oh my word let them both live at the end of this fic. đđť
He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.
So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.
âSweetheart,â Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. âIâm pretty sure thatâs where this was going anyway.â
AWW YEAH IT WAS GOING THAT WAY! lol
âDo you regret?â she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. âDo you regret helping me?â Dean considers her question. He knows heâll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others. Itâs already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. âNo. Never did,â Dean replies. âNot even once.â
This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol đ
âIf Iâm your husband now, that means I get all of you,â he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection. âAll of me,â Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. âThen I want all of you.âÂ
Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that đ
. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. â¤ď¸
The Honorable Choice - Part 3
Pairing:Â Dean Winchester x OFCÂ
Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didnât expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribeâs horse.
AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...
Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. Iâve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.
**Pronunciation guide at the end!
Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU
Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack
Word Count:Â 5.7K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.
đ Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist
đď¸ Listen to the podfic version here!
Part 3: Worthy
They travel together for two more days. Dean isnât really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.
He tells her about growing up on his familyâs farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.
âShe tamed him,â Mila remarks with a smile. Deanâs lips quirk in response.
âI wouldnât go that far,â he chuckles, âbut he knew he couldnât pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. Sheâs a real pistol when sheâs gotta be.â
Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life.Â
He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Deanâs morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.
Dean managed to smooth things over though. Heâs always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.
Mila admits that she and her cousin Ĺ Ăłta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the âfree mindâ her mother dreamed about.
The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens. Â
On the third day, itâs nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, theyâve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.
âMy tribe lives beyond the river,â she says, âbut the current is strong now.â
Dean looks over at her. A question he hasnât wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.
âYeah, about thatâŚIâm thinking your tribe doesnât take very well to outsiders,â he says. âWhite men in particular.â
Mila presses her lips together. He can tell sheâs been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.
âI will protect you,â she says.
Dean frowns. He doesnât like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesnât want to know what itâll take for her to protect him.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â he asks.
She turns her face away and doesnât seem to want to answer at first.
âMilaâŚâ
âThe Chief is my uncle,â she says at last. âHe will listen to me.â
Dean blinks. Well, that changes thingsâŚmaybe.
Heâs still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesnât have many options. Itâs either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. Heâs not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.
In the past three days, itâs taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. Heâll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. Itâs a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.
But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safelyâŚeven if that means he wonât be.
Heâs come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.
With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she wonât see it.Â
âAll right, the current doesnât look too bad over here,â he says, pointing to farther north along the river. âThe horses can make it.â
Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.
The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until theyâre submerged into the water up to their waists.
Itâs good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, sheâd already be sunk up to her shoulders. Babyâs a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.
Thatâs why heâs able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.
Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Babyâs reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Matoâs reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.
Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.
âItâs okay, Iâve gotcha,â he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.
She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Matoâs neck. Without her weight, heâs able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.
Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God heâs a strong swimmer.
Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see itâs a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.
A waterfall.
Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesnât know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesnât want to know. All heâs trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.
She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all sheâs worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.
This time, itâs Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.
A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.
âDean!â Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyesâafraid for him.
The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.
He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Milaâs familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.
She smiles in relief.
He realizes that heâs lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. Sheâs taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.
The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. Thereâs a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.
He doesnât understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. Heâs heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most heâs taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors. Â
Deanâs never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.
âMorninâ,â he croaks.
Milaâs relieved face becomes touched with amusement.
âItâs night,â she says. âYou slept for a long time.â
Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he canât make his body move just yet. Heâs too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble.Â
âThank you,â she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.
Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.
She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like itâs shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.
âYouâre beautiful, you know that?â he says.
Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.
âI guess you are pretty, for a White Man,â she says teasingly.
Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.
âSweetheart, thatâs not the way you talk about a man,â he says.
Her brows raise. âNo?â
âHandsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,â he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. âThatâs what you wanna call a man.â
âToothsome. I donât know this word,â she admits. âAm I supposed to eat you?â
Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.
Itâs difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Milaâs cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.
Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.
She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.
He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.
She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.
âItâll be faster to dry our clothes if weâre not wearing âem,â Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.
âI canât,â she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.
âWhat was that?â he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.
âI am notâŚhow you say, married. I have to beâŚâ
Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.
âChaste?â he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.
âYes,â she says. âIn the eyes of my people, it isâŚâ
âI get it,â Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead.Â
âReally, I understand,â he says.
His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.
This time, heâs a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.
Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?
Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than heâs ever felt.
Itâs harder than he mightâve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he wonât be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesnât show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.
âThis looks good,â he says, clearing his throat. âWhat kinda fish is this?â
With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.
That night, Mila dreams.
She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky.Â
When she wakes, the fire has gone out and itâs still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that sheâs safe. Finally safe.
And sheâs lying securely in Deanâs arms.
Sheâs no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.
She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still donât welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realizeâŚ
Her heart has already chosen.
âKimmĂmila, what have you done?â her uncle asks in the language of their people.
He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.
Milaâs father, Chatan, and her cousin Ĺ Ăłta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chiefâs large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge whatâs happening. He doesnât understand a word of any of it.
âYouâve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!â Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.
Mila steps forward, despite her motherâs embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribeâbecause even a horseâs spirit should not be broken by greed.
âUncle, Iâve told you the story, though you donât want to believe it,â she says. âDean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.â
She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.
She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness sheâs ever possessed in her life. She feels itâs led her to exactly this moment.
âAnd we are one,â she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.
âYou would take it that far?â he asks.
Her face doesnât change. âItâs already done.â
Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silenceâŚhe releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they donât let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.
âDean Winchester,â Tahatan says.
âYes, sir,â Dean replies.
âYou prove yourself to be a man with honor,â he says in English. âKimmĂmila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?â
Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how heâll react. Sheâs not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.
âNo, sir. I donât deny it,â Dean says.
âThen, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,â Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."
Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isnât sure of what heâs supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.
âIs that it?â he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if heâs honest.
âAlmost,â she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.
Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. âSir.â
Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean.Â
He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.
She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Milaâs hand and heaves a deep sigh.
She kisses her daughterâs hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.
Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me thatâs it.
She smiles more genuinely.
âCome,â she says.
She leads him by the hand out of the Chiefâs tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.
Deanâs still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. Itâs been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance.Â
âThis oneâs yours?â Dean asks.
She pauses, giving him another small smile. âOurs.â
Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?
She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. Thereâs still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs.Â
Son of a gun. Dean doesnât even blink as he processes it all. Heâs in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.
Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. Sheâs his anchor, and she seems to sense that heâs reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.
âYou didnât get in too much trouble because of me, did you?â he asks.
She shakes her head. âNo. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.â
Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.
âThere is justâŚone thing,â Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like sheâs embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.
âWhat?â he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.
âTo convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that weâŚâ she trails, trying to find the right words in English. âThat we are married.â
Deanâs brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, âoursâ makes a lot more sense now.
âI am sorry,â she says quietly. âI didnât want you hurtââ
âSweetheart,â Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. âIâm pretty sure thatâs where this was going anyway.â
In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as heâs concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesnât take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.
âWeâre married, huh?â he asks. âNo ceremony? No white dress?â
âWe are bonded,â she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. âOr, we will be.â
She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.
âGuess that means we have to seal the deal,â he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.
âSeal-the-deal. What does that mean?â she asks.
Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. âOh, I think you know.â
He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.
âDo you regret?â she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. âDo you regret helping me?â
Dean considers her question. He knows heâll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.
Itâs already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.Â
âNo. Never did,â Dean replies. âNot even once.â
He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Milaâs hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.
When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all thatâs left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin. Â
âBeautiful,â Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.
âNo manâs ever touched you?â he asks, despite knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.
âNo,â Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.
Deanâs mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders.Â
âHave you ever touched yourself?â he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.
âShow me,â he says.
She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.
Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.
He canât be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.
âItâs okay, sweetheart,â Dean says. âLet me hear you.â
He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesnât understand, but it only spurs him on.
His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.
âShit, thatâs it, baby,â he pants gruffly against her cheek. âLet go for me.â
Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.
Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.
âMila,â he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. âLet me see you, sweetheart.â
She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. âThis is not enough?â
Deanâs lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. âAs a matter of fact, no.â
He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.
âIf Iâm your husband now, that means I get all of you,â he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.
âAll of me,â Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. âThen I want all of you.âÂ
Dean chuckles. âYou sure about that?â
She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.
He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.
âI want all of you,â she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.
Dean nods in agreement. Heâs come this far. He can do that for her too.
He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.
He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. Sheâs already holding onto his arms tightly, like heâs become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.
Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.
Milaâs dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.
She blinks, and the image disappears. Sheâs left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.
The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Milaâs fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.
Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.
He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where theyâve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.
Later heâll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.
Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.
âI could get used to this,â he says.
Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. âYes.â
Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridgedânot only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him waĹĄĂÄu.
Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.
âIt will be hard for you here,â Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean. Â
He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.
âIâm not afraid of a little hard work,â Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling heâs just trying to reassure her.
Sensing sheâs not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.
âListen. I made my choice, and Iâm sticking it out, come hell or high water,â he says.
Milaâs brows knit together. âHell-or-high⌠What does that mean?â
Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.
âIt means if you want me, youâve got me. The rest, weâll figure out as we go along,â he says.
A smile slowly lightens Milaâs face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.
âI will be with you,â she says. Itâs a promise.
Dean smiles back.
âGood,â he says. âBecause thatâs just about all I need.â
AN:Â There we have it, friends. đ I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.
Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!Â
Pronunciation Guide:
Ĺ Ăłta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") WaĹĄĂÄu ("wash-ee-jew")
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#The Honorable Choice#Jacklesversebingo24#dean winchester angst#dean winchester#dean winchester x oc#supernatural#dean winchester fanfiction#dean x oc#spn#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester smut#dean winchester fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#supernatural x reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles x oc#jackles#jensen ackles fanfiction#dean winchester au#western au#dean au#dean winchester x original character#guysireadsomething
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I unfortunately picked up Bravely Default 2 again (I bought it back when it released) and then started over since I last played it in June 2021. And. You know what. I like these silly beans. And then I saw concept art for Dag's expressions and I am not the same. Why did they decide to give him huge fangs in it.
(also I'm trying so hard to avoid spoilers less for plot but more for characters so if you know anything that happens to characters shhhhh. also the expression concept is below the read more so you can see what I mean.)
#bravely default 2#dag rampage#selene noetic#i only just recently reached ch2 in the game and i may have a problem#someone was like wait how have you not gotten farther in 25 hours#and im like im sorry its a problem i have an obsession you dont understand#and then he found out i had three of the four party members with two jobs capped at 12#and then the fourth only had one capped but a bunch high up#and then i told him i was trying to get the gambler asterisk and that meant i had to play a childrens card game#and then i had to do side quests when they popped up#and he was like wait at that point you probably dont need jobs at 12 omg#and im like i know its a problem i cant stop it#so anyway chapter 1 took me forever because i committed to the grind too much#the emotions i feel for silly lil side characters ................ its too real#like even the fact that you beat these two up in the prologue im like teehee funny lil blonde guy#then you dont interact with them in a ch1 quest but they show up again at the same time doing the same quest#and guys i am FEELING EMOTIONS theyre just funny lil mercenaries doin funny lil mercenary things#also please do not tell me anything about the game past ch1 because i want to continue to enjoy experiencing it#which is why i have my ask box closed bc its a game from 2021 and i know im really behind the times#but i managed to not know anything until now and i wanna keep it that way#also i dont really know how to properly draw noses especially when i doodle#but his nose is important and i already struggle with his big jaw so i had to include it somehow#and in the concept art it looks like he has a lil stubble but in game i dont see it so im like ... squinting at he
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i finished nona and i wanna talk about it but none of my thoughts are actually words so ig i'd actually like to be in a room of other people talking abt it so i can occasionally nod or argue a point
#summed up: hmmm.#nona was not my favourite narrator. particularly towards the end. and i feel like for such a dramatic last few chapters she was too 'slow'?#like her perspective has such a dreamlike quality to it. which is interesting and good in some parts.#but for such an intense series of events to be narrated like that (in comparison to the last two books especially)....#idk#i appreciated cam and pal. i liked how nona would suddenly Know things she shouldn't but didn't realize (like the seneschal's name)#i would have enjoyed if it had been maybe twenty pages longer from anyone else's perspective#i'm mostly confused about what specifically happened to gideon but i may just be forgetting the end of htn#idk if anyone has opinions please yell em at me#el speaks#nona the ninth#tlt#locked tomb spoilers
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[ Monsters List ] - Sensitive info with targets abilities
A/n: Not my usual writing at all! these details are relationship stuff each character has with the reader that isnât shown in the main story. (Some details are omitted to avoid spoilers). Now that this is done, Iâll be going back to the main story line now ^^. If iâm missing any warnings, please say so.
Pairing: [Monster!Twst x Reader] Featuring, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, Silver, Rollo, & Neige.
Summary: Dear, [Name], Crowley just informed me he did not give the courtesy of listing all the beasts and their abilities into your possession, please allow me to be the one to aid you. Here are bullets of their names and prowesses, as well as species. Please, do stay safe and out of trouble, and remember to eat and sleep well. Love, From, Rollo.
âDid it send?â âI⌠Iâm sorry Sir Rollo, it seems we were unable to reach [Name] in timeâŚâ ââŚWhat.â
Warnings: Some fuffy and some arenât, Stalking, Mentions of Nsfw (Vil). Zombies (Ace, Deuce), Biting (Ace, Deuce, and Jamil), Squeezing? (Jamil, Floyd), Hints of possession in each section, Blood Drinking (Epel, Jade, Lilia), Theyâre all monsters that are evil so⌠Murder, Kisses (Kalim, Floyd, Malleus), Blood,
Prologue Chapter
Riddle Rosehearts [ Ghost ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic. [ Magic is a mystery in the field, all that is known is itâs abilities monsters have that arenât typically in their species skillset, as well as being especially powerful to utilize it ]
- He posses the abilities of, phasing, possession, kinesis (many different kinds), invisibility, telepathy, and short moments of time where he can have a physical body. He tends to forget heâs a ghost leading to numerous times where youâve accidentally injuried yourself and he rushes to your side to give aid, only for his to hand phase through you instead of truly helping. He feels guilty not being able to help you.
Thereâs a secret part of him that feels less guilty and more angry, about being incapable of touching you all the time. Sometimes, he wishes he was Ace just so he could wrap some part of him around you, but alas, he can only do so in short intervals, which just⌠isnât enough.
- Has a habit of just, watching. Youâve caught him at your window at night. He insists coming in without permission is unlawful, to which you tell him looking at you through glass is just plain creepy. You now invite him for tea parties, yet that still doesnât stop him from longingly gazing through the glass that separates you two. (freak)
- Glows a bright red when heâs either angry or extremely flustered. You walked in one time when the former was happening and were temporarily blinded, in your own temporary home no lessâŚ
With the latter⌠he was helping you figure out a crossword puzzle from a lost book you had found during the night. When he helped you figure it out, he swears your smile was so bright he was blinded. In your case, at least you didnât need a lantern to see the page anymore.
- He has numerous stitches on his body, his mouth, his neck, and his heart, or at least, where it wouldâve been had he still had it. In the short times when he decides to take on a physical form, he enjoys letting your hands trace over the numerous threads through his skin⌠He wonât admit it, but itâs a comfort.
- When heâs working, his exposition completely changes. You get scared of him, you forget just how determined he is to being the pinnacle of perfection, even as a monster.
- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death.
Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade [ Zombies ]
- Infectious Bites. There have been many close calls where the two almost bit you, secretly hoping to turn you into them in their delusions of being with you forever, it never works though cause when they try, you turn and give them a smile that haunts them so bad they canât bear the thought of you hating them. The idea always rears its ugly head back to them, but then you treat the two like a regular human and, unknowingly, save yourself just a little longer.
- Anatomy Control (Disassembling limbs and still having control). Deuce has a very common occurring tendency, that leads him to lose his limbs on occasion. He can still feel what they feel, but when they separate from him, they tend to have a mind of their own. There have been several times where youâve been the one to return a limb, typically his hand, and heâs all fidgety cause it just refuses to let go of you.
âI⌠I promise this doesnât usually happenâŚ! I have no idea why it wonât let go of youâ with how lovingly it was stroking your hand earlier (which you wonât mention to Deuce)⌠Youâre not too sure either⌠Does it like the feeling of warmth? âNext time this happens, just⌠Feel free to stab itâ he looks dejected, but you accept his offer nonetheless.
- Ace has asked to sleep with you in your bed because his grave is so cold and lonely. You wouldnât want him dying alone a second time right? Thatâs too cruel. He was surprised when you accepted, even more so when you said there werenât rules like âYou have to stay on this side of the bed!â or âDonât touch me!â, he asked you if you had a thing for him, to which you only quirk up your eyebrow at his question.
âHmâŚ? Iâve slept with someone before, I donât think itâs that serious.â ⌠What. Whoâs this someone?! He doesnât end up sleeping as heâs left wondering who youâve been with before him, little does he know this someone was just a reserved monster hunter who was watching over you with a fever.
- Theyâre the most attached to you, in a physical sense. Considering at least one, or even more, of the limbs on the duo is just bones, along with Deuce missing an eye and Ace missing part of his face, itâs a bit hard for them to go out without giving people a heart attack. So⌠They break into wherever youâre temporarily staying, which is typically an abandoned house, and accompany you in every location they possibly can. One very worrying thing they do, is stick their limbs in your bag. They wonât admit it but, itâs cause they miss you. You need to tell them sticking Aceâs eye in there to keep watch is NOT okay.
- Survival: Eating Humans
Cater Diamond [ Ghost� ]
- Phasing, possession, invisibility, telepathy. Though you donât see him use any of these capabilities very much. You wonder why but never go through with asking him, how could you when he looks so happy to be in your presence? At least, you think heâs happy. You can never tell if itâs genuine or not⌠His smile doesnât quite reach his eyes like everyone elseâŚ
- Whenever he decides to spend his time with you, his face is never close enough in view for you to decipher any real features of his. What color are his eyes? What does his nose look like? Is the diamond you remember on him even there? The basics of a face are in your memory, but you can never remember the more eunique traits of his. You⌠Donât know why that is at all. It feels like youâre forgetting something from the first meeting you had with Cater, but your suspicions tell you it had something to do with his face.
- Even though heâs a ghost, it feels like he forgets something about that sometimes⌠Itâs different from Riddle, who simply forgets he no longer has a physical body, itâs like he doesnât remember he even died in the first place. Youâve seen him all alone, the sunny disposition he proposes to everyone is gone, a hollow feeling in his vicinity. You couldnât hear it clearly, the only word heard at all being sisters.
- The moment he sees you itâs like heâs scrambling to change his disposition, walking up to you casually as he mentions how cute you look today, ahh you should take him shopping! Heâll be discreet donât worryâ
âCater, how did you die?â
âWhaâ? W-who cares about that, come on just take me to town kayâ?â you do end up bringing him as he points at things heâll never be able to use, commenting on how cute they would be to have and show off, even attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulder before laughing off at his arm phasing through your body and making your spine shiver.
You donât miss the way his laugh is more forced than usual, and obvious distress at what happened. Why is he so upset he canât touch you? Is there a reason he wants to so bad? For once, you wanna know.
âCater, lets go on a date again.â
âI didnât know you were so up-frontâŚ! But, if youâre asking then I just canât say no can I?â
- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death(?)
Trey Clover [ Frankenstein ]
- The sight of a giant, buff, green, adult man, hovering over you like a doting boyfriend as you bake is certainly a domestic sight to behold. Though it becomes less heartwarming when you remember this scientifically resurrected man is 8 feet tall, he can basically reach the top shelf when heâs kneeling.
- Just like the zombies of Heartslaybul, Trey can disassemble his limbs, but he has more control over it than the other two⌠Youâve had a fair share of moments where youâre trying to eat and a stitched up hand crawls towards you with a piece of cake., itâs sweet, but horrifying in the dark.
- Heâs a glorified brick wall, if brick walls could also fight back at insane speeds. You watched him unintentionally scare off another Monster Hunter once, they weren't intimidated by his size at all, even attempting to throw a punch at him to show off. Their try immediately backfired as Trey stood unfazed, watching them run away cradling their hand. Before you can blink, Treyâs already towering over you asking if there was a pastry he should try making for you. Honestly⌠You need to tell Crowley to hire better employees.
- Trey has electrocuted you once. Totally unintentional on his part, but if someone asked him what he thought when he did it, he would tell them with a soft smile you look cute. Meanwhile, youâre on the other side of the room trying to make sure Trey doesnât increase the voltage next time he tries holding you. Everytime he attempts to do just that, youâre quick to jump out the way. Heâll smile softly but he canât deny heâs a little disheartened... Seems heâll just have to rebuild that trust.
- Despite all the stitches on his body, unlike Riddle, there arenât open wounds on his body, so heâs technically the only one who can accompany you without drawing too much attention. Itâs a secret kept between the two of you, but whenever you head into the square, you both walk to as many bakeries as possible, tasting whatever you can afford. Whenever he put something in his mouth, heâd make an offhand comment about his family. You wonder⌠How did Trey even resurrect like this?
- Survival: Undocumented
Leona Kingscholar [ Beastman Mummy ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- His skin is wrapped in so many bandages, all of them he can bend at his will. Youâre curious as to what he looks like under the fabric, but one glare and the feeling of binds grappling around your body is enough for you to reconsider. Thatâs only if you attempt to look underneath, if not, heâll sit in silence as you admire each carefully placed bind, cracking an eye open to watch you close in on him in curiosity.
- Watching him manipulate sand just to make places to sleep is entertaining, but being dragged into his timeframe of napping is surely not. The grip he has on you is ironclad as the two of you lay on the grainy bed, if you complain about sand getting into your clothes heâll make a sly suggestion of âJust take off your clothesâ before retreating into a slumber that you canât shake him from. Even if you did decide to do that, how would you even take them offâŚ? He wonât let go of youâŚ!
- Despite being a former corpse, if he was still mortal, heâd essentially be an ultimate being. Heâs super strong, fast, heâs quick at recovering, and even if you did cut off a limb of his heâd regrow in just half the time it took to get it off him. To make it worse heâs handsome, has an air of nonchalance, and a prince. You can just imagine the sound of Crewel and Rollo nagging at you for thinking such heinous things about a beast youâre meant to be killing.
- Whenever Leona controls the dead, you hide behind him. Not because youâre scared of his army, but because they remind you of Ace and Deuce, and youâd rather not see versions of themselves not heed danger whatsoever. You were half awake one time when he summoned corpses, your blurry eyes mistaking two of them for Deuce and Ace, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them into you. You only realize itâs not them when Leona grabs your from behind and hoists your body onto his shoulder like a sack.
âWrong Zombies.â he makes an effort to have you sleep more before you accidentally kill yourself for such a small error.
- That little pain inducement ability he has? It sucks. Itâs funny when he uses it to telepathically pinch Ruggie when heâs away. But, being reduced to a puddle of pure hurt and strain is the worst. Just watching Leona use it makes you remember⌠nevermind. Seeing his victims fall to their knees as he drains them of their life force is depressing, the burden of your defeat rearing its shame when he just knocks back and naps as their bodies turn to sand.
- Even when his tail wraps around your leg in a form of adoration, you canât help but feel disdain for yourself remembering all those who are now dust on the ground because of him.
- Survival: Feeding off vitality
Ruggie Bucchi [ Werehyena ]
- Please tell Ruggie to stop tracking you with his senses and your stolen possessions, youâve been scared too many times by him popping up out of nowhere. Itâs even more horrifying in the night since his face looks so scary (His happy face looks the same as his hunting face. Donât tell him though, heâll rob you of your belongings in pettiness.)
- His eyes are so hypnotizing, both poetically and realistically. Youâve seen him mesmerize loving couples into handing over their belongings in his human form, only to revisit them later in the night to consume the rest of his steal. You asked him once what the point is in getting their stuff in the day only to kill them in the night, and he just smiles before softly placing a piece of bread on your lips.
You never take the bread from his hands, allowing him to feed you himself all the time, feeding you with the same hands stained with a bloody ending to a romance story. Maybe⌠itâll get his pension for praying on lovers to soften, the thought of having his own might put his thoughts to bay⌠Who are you lying to that wonât happen, itâs how he lives, and how he will continue to live.
You know it wonât change when heâs desperately trying to hide the red stains under his nails.
- Heâs very keen on being in your vicinity. No reason, you think, but heâs just always there, talking to you like normal. Which is weird, why does it feel so normal? The more you ponder it, maybe heâs more natural in your life cause of how equalized he is. Heâs laidback yet cunning at the same time, not too good, but not too heinous (if you ignore his murders.) Itâs a nice change of pace from people who see, to be heavily relent on one trait. Even though with a kinder personality feel weird⌠So, talking to Ruggie is a nice escapeâ
âRuggie, did you take my wallet again?â
âHowâd you think I paid for that bread? Shihihiâ Augh! Ow okay I'm sorryâ!â he makes it up to you by giving you his portion of food. You pretend to take it out of pettiness, but late at night when heâs sleep, you wrap it up and leave it on his bedside for when he goes hungry in the night.
When he does wake up, he knows who left the meal by his side, including the extras that lay next to it.
- Survival: Eating anything he can get his hands on
Jack Howl [ Human� ]
- You always wondered how Jack got so built. Of course, if itâs from training, you would never undermine his efforts. But, his strength is so hardcore you doubt itâs even humanly possible. There had been a speech from Crowley in town you attended with both Jack and Rollo, all three of you booted to the very back. When you commented on how you couldnât see, Rollo told you âWe could always move forwardââ But heâs cut off with shock when he watches Jack effortlessly carry you onto his shoulder, keeping you rested there for an hour straight without complaint, even shifting the way he holds you depending on what you wanted at the moment.
âWe couldâve just gone up there, Jack⌠Now put them downâŚ!â
âI donât mind, They seem comfortable here anyway.â You canât help but laugh at Rollo's overbearing nature, patting his head as you hold onto Jack.
- Hes never answered you before on when or how he joined the hunting organization, literally. Heâs so silent when you ask, but the moment you switch to a different topic heâs chiming in his opinion like he didnât just give you the silent treatment for 15 minutes. He told you heâd never lie to you, so, you guess he was telling the truth about that statement.
- Whenever Rollo is unavailable to you, Jack essentially works as his âreplacementâ according to Sam. You wouldnât call him that though, Jack cares for you the same way Rollo does, but heâs a lot less⌠Restricted towards you. You can go out at midnight with him as long as you let him walk you back home, You can eat more junk food, and you can even go into the forest with him outside of a job! Rollo is oblivious to it, but there are moments where you might, just a tinsy weensy bit, prefer having Jack watch over you compared to him. You still love Rollo though! (Never say that to him directly, he will dissect what kinda of love it is youâre implying for him.)
- Overall, you canât wait to see him again when you go to Savanaclaw! Youâre curious as to why he hasnât reached back to you after the 2 months he's been there thoughâŚ
Azul Ashengrotto [ Slime Kraken ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- His true form is huge, being bigger than the size of 5 pirate ships combined. When he shrinks himself though, heâs only 7 feet long and huge, rather than 50 feet long and huge! Less scary right? (itâs not, youâre just trying to delude yourself.)
- Itâs more dangerous when considering the substance heâs made out of is multi-purpose, making him invisible, essentially unkillable, and extremely capable in offense. Youâve seen it first hand considering youâve been on the receiving end of his malice once. If you have to admit it though, itâs a lot scarier watching him use his skills on unknowing sailors. You collect what remains of them, and set them to rest far away from the sea.
- During the night, youâre divided on whether or not he can be considered horrifying, or beautiful. The twins glow, but they're limited to their one-color pallets. Azuls body, channels the light from his surroundings, making him more than one color sometimes. Itâs a bit saddening when you notice how insecure he is about the material of his body, even using magic to appear more human-like in his state. If you tell him heâs handsome in his regular slime state, heâll flush in embarrassment. (If you go a step further and hug him as such a gross substance, goodness, heâs already looking through books at the bottom of the ocean about human courting. Never mind youâre still trying to kill him, heâll slay your heart if he has to!)
- If he uses Magic, he, can turn himself into a human for a little. He never really had a reason to go on land, heâs powerful in the sea, even ranked as one of the 7 most wanted monsters. But, now that youâre in his life, he wants to follow you and see what it would be like to live with you as a person. He doesnât call it a date, but he thinks of it as one, even imagines himself telling Jade and Floyd (Little does he know they already beat him to the punch on that oneâŚ). You take him by the hand and the urge to stay on land with you becomes even stronger. But, so does the need to have you in the ocean with him.
- His tentacles along with his crazy strength, just make him an even harder foe to fight. Truly⌠What are you meant to do when youâre sitting down and in his sleep, he just clings onto you with a tentacle, and now you just, canât leave? Besides heâs asleep, how are they latching onto you so hard⌠They don't have a mind of their ownâ You remember seeing an article that wrote about such a phenomenon. Okay, so maybe they do act of their own volition⌠why do they cling so desperately to you?
- Survival: Eating as much of whatever is available
Jade Leech & Floyd Leech [ Skeleton Sea Serpents ]
- During your stay in their abode, youâd wake up to Floyd squeezing you so hard you swear one of the bones on his tail were gonna puncture you. Heâs too strong, horrifically strong to the point you fear getting squeezed more than twice a day could genuinely kill you. If you donât voice this concern, you might risk your death, but if you do, heâll restrain himself a bit (he couldnât bear the thought of killing his shrimpy! Youâre too fun to play with, let him kiss those sore places better yeah? Besides, just a little biting doesnât hurt)
- Their senses are so enhanced, itâs just as scary as their strength. You had sliced your hand once, a medium amount of blood pouring out, and before you could even do anything, Jade had swam up to you and latched onto your wrist, pulling you down, almost tugging you into the water, and began licking the wound clean, his eyes empty and his sharp teeth dragging across your skin. You thought he was miles awayâŚ?! How did he know you were bleedingâŚ? When heâs done, he pats your hand and smiles before engaging in a casual conversation about your day, uncharacteristically gentlemanly after such a scary display. If you ask him what that was about, heâll innocently tilt his head and ask you âwhatever are you talking about?â
- Just like Azul, their true forms are giant, not as big as his, but still equally as terrifying, the sharp bones that poke out their body further proving this fact.
- Extremely Fast, Youâve seen this first hand when Floyd jumped out of the water and dragged you through the sea to transport you to a âbeach dateâ in the middle of the ocean, in only 3 minutesâŚHe heard of these dates from Azul, âSaid he was gonna take you on one, thought itâd be funny if I took yah instead.â Youâre unable to inquire what he means by âAzul trying to take you outâ, as heâs brightly smiling when he places a sailor's cap on you. The small sight of blood in his canines is all you need to know about where this hat came from.
- Their teeth are sharp thatâs for sure, you watched Jade sink his teeth into unsuspecting marine life. The thought of him doing the same to ships 7 times the size of such animals, makes you worried for future sailors, and⌠For yourself. He flaunts those ivories at you so much, youâre worried heâs trying to hint at his insatiable hunger. (Heâs doesnât bite like Floyd does, but honestly, youâd prefer if he bit you instead of grazing his teeth on your skin so sensually)
- They like to drag you into the water with them. Youâre sure itâs how they have fun, the only exposure to the human world other than you is Azul and artifacts they collect from ships they were responsible for destroying. So of course, they wouldnât know the first thing of human play, yet⌠you have the underlying feeling they have a reason for doing such a thing that isnât just entertainment.
- Survival: Anything they can fit in their mouths (Whether it be marine life or ships. Though, these two have a specific craving for human)
Kalim Al-Asim [ Genie ]
- Extremely strong, every time he hugs you he completely forgets his strength. In the moments where he does realize it, heâs quick to apologize. If you tell him where you hurt, heâll insist âkissingâ it will make it better! Itâs what worked on his siblings, so it must work for you! If you donât tell him⌠heâll cry, so itâs better to just tell him.
- Wishmaking. He insists on letting him give you a wish, after all, you did save him from being lonely! (Youâre not sure if you could call it âsavingâ considering you were trying to kill him⌠and still are⌠). You never accept his offer, with the knowledge that everything has a price, (Thank you Azul for such a good lesson learned) which makes him sad, but in your awkward ways of comfort, you tell him the only wish you want, is a hug. He is ecstatic and wraps his arms around you, tight. Youâre regretting your wish now. Though, the glare from two pairs of slit eyes tells you youâre not the only one who doesnât like the wish.
- Too many riches too count⌠You wake up, gifted in gold and jewels, youâre halfway through the day, more diamonds and rubies, going to sleep⌠Gold and emeralds. You told Kalim no more. He found a loophole and just replaced the cheaper items with more expensive ones. Itâs technically not more so⌠You make a reminder to dump it all on Rollo, heâll surely enjoy having money to tend to his garden. (He wonât. You already know heâll refuse anything from a monster. But, if you bat your eyelashes enough he might accept it.)
âKalim, I donât need any more rubies.â Youâre sat on his golden throne, the optimistic wish granter between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sits on the floor, a beaming smile making you hesitant on his next words.
âThen Iâll just give you more diamonds!â ⌠Truly, you thought genies could only give out three wishes, why does it feel like this one wants to give you more than that⌠Itâs gotten to the point where you think he wants only you to be the one he grants anything to, going so far as finding a way to bypass the rules. He even gave you his lamp, which you gave back to Jamil upon receiving it.
- You do wonder⌠Where are the rest of the people Kalims granted desires to? Even more so, the rest of the genies, as far as youâre concerned, Crowley said there was only one left (that he wanted to get his greedy hands on). If you had just searched Kalim and Jamils shared space, surely you wouldâve found the corner filled with broken lamps in it.
Survival: Not sure, Either immortal or some secret to survival.
Jamil Viper [ Snake ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- Half snake half man, his lithe body is enough to give you pause no matter how many times you see it, even after seeing the leeches who have a similar body. You think the reason might be more cause of his intimidating eyes rather than his actual body however, 2 sharp slits are enough to make anyone rethink their judgment.
- When he sleeps, he unknowingly wraps around you, his human half bunching you in his arms as if he isnât squeezing your legs. You think itâs just his instincts using use as warmth considering heâs cold-blooded, so you let him (Little do you know heâs perfectly warm enough, his body is just drawn to you for some reason). When he wakes up, he considers poisoning himself from embarrassment.
- Venomus, the long pointed fangs could tell you that much. When he sheds a tooth after meeting you, he doesnât toss it away like he used to, he finds a piece of string and slides it through the solid, letting you watch him in skepticism as he slithers towards you, gently placing the newly formed necklace in your palm as his forked tongue sticks out. (He also left a little venom trapped inside, in case anyone gets a little too close than wanted.)
- Donât stare into his eyes to long, or else youâll find yourself entranced by the slits in his pupils, and completely hypnotized without even his knowledge. Itâs like heâs so enchanted by you that he forgets he can do something like that. When he realizes what heâs done, an hour goes by before you come to. You donât feel any different, but one looks at your wrist adorned with a snake bracelet that wasnât there before tells you something happenedâŚ
You canât move it from its place, but you honestly donât want to, itâs pretty. Works perfectly well in Jamil's favor, if you had, you definitely wouldâve noticed the two holes punctured into your skin by a familiar set of fangsâ
âJamil, Kalim gave me his lamp again.â
â⌠Really?â Heâs quick to take it off your hands. If only he could wish instead⌠it would make his life so much easier.
- Survival: Undocumented
Vil Schoenheit [ Incubus ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- Youâre human. Youâre not immune to charm and flirtation. Itâs disappointing that Vil is so good at what he does. You havenât given into temptation, at least, not yet.
- Shapeshifting, heâs told you before if you have someone in mind youâd ever want to do such things with, he can transform into them if you hope to practice your confession, when you tell him nobody comes to mind, you fail to notice the devious smile that perches on his lips in victory. It seems the only face that will appear in your brain in such moments of vulnerability will be his, and thatâs enough for him.
âThough, Since I used to see Neige almost every day maybe his? He has seen me in moments even Rollo hasnâtâŚâ
What?
- Feasting on the vitality of humans is something commonly known for incubi, youâve asked Vil before if youâre going to die soon from him touching you⌠You already know heâs an amazing actor so when he answers you, you canât tell if heâs lying or if itâs the truth, especially when he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips like a prince, perfectly playing off the suspicion in his answer.
- You think itâs unfair heâs so attractive, if he had only half his looks it would at least be easier to not stare at his pretty featuresâ what are you thinkingâŚ?! You can already hear the scolding of everyone else telling you how heinous it is to think such thoughts, but once again, you're distracted by the feeling of Vil dipping into the couch next to you, offering a drink as if you two were just ordinary people. To be fair, his whole survival depends on how well he can interact with humans⌠He only smiles when you take the drink.
- Making Hallucinations is just common practice for Vil, Rook praising him for all the people who gave into his temptations from his feats. You were once sure he had never used it on you, you could never fall for such a puny delusion, but now, your confidence has faded. Things in your memory are blurry, unclear.
Has⌠Vil has been using it on you�
- Survival: Corruption of humans through desire, feeding off vitality
Rook Hunt [ Boogeyman ]
- You make an extreme effort to avoid all manners of shadows since youâve met him. Lurking in the dark is his forte, and it doesn't bode well for you because almost all your work is done in the dark. Even then⌠your efforts are in vain because you still feel the sensation of eyes burning into you at all times of the day. In these cases, you retreat to Vil in hopes he can rein him in a bit.
- Shapeshifting is a rare and dangerous ability. Unfortunately, Rook of all monsters has it. Even in places with no signs of shadows, it feels like heâs still there. It doesnât make it any better that he hints towards that being the truth.
âAh trickster, you looked magnifique in that bathing suit!â
âYou were the waiter who kept offering me drinks werenât you.â
âThe way I observe my muse shall not be disclosed!â
- Watching Rook feast on fear isnât scary, but rather⌠unsettlingâŚ? He places his mouth near his victim as what you can only assume to be their fear twists up into his throat, the horrified human trembling in terror. Such a scary expression quickly disappears when he turns to you with the happiest smile and gushes to the poor human about how wonderful you are, rubbing his cheek to yours like a sappy couple.
âAh! TricksterâŚ! You are quite sweaty! Shall I dry you offââ you shut him up by throwing the same towel he was about to clean you up with, in his face.
- His skill set is already horrifying, but adding in the basic ability of enhanced strength just makes it worse. You canât even begin to count how many walls Rook has torn through for you⌠A simple ow, and what you originally thought to be a brick wall, is now a giant hole with the boogeyman at your call. Itâs harder to be nice to him when heâs insistent that you train your capabilities on him. The amount of times Rook has turned a stab into a firm held waltz is just too many.
âNon non, You must hide your hand better trickster.â
âI would do that if you weren't cradling me into a dip right now Rookâ Stop dancing with me already!â
- Survival: Fear and Grief
Epel Felimer [ Newbie Vampire ]
- He's asked you before if he could suck you dry. He honestly expected you to say no, but when you reached your arm out and told him to just not turn you, he was sure you must be some sort of blessing in disguise. When heâs done, he begs you not to tell Vil, as the incubus banned him from feeding. Youâll come to regret it at some point though, as now he continuously comes back to you in times of hunger.
- He runs at such fast speeds, itâs incredible to you, youâve clapped for him a couple times, but, every-time you did⌠he got distracted and would trip. He wishes the sun would come up and kill him in those moments.
- Compulsion is a dangerous thing, you shouldnât be shocked, but luckily for you, he⌠doesnât seem to know how to use it the way it should be utilized. The moment he does finally master such an ability, youâll have to find someway to get past that. He did try using it on you once, a simple command asking you to tell him how âmanlyâ he is, somehow, someway, the command turned into something much more⌠embarrassing. He stands in bewilderment at the way your hands are cupping your face, endlessly praising Epel about how amazing he is, and how you wish to stay with him forever.
Vil and Rook stepped in to save you. He was sat in the corner as a punishment.
- His hunger is, insatiable. Youâre not sure youâve ever seen such a monster so bloodthirsty. Itâs like he has some goal to just, feast on as many people as he can⌠He mistook you as a stranger he could freely feast on, jumping on you, ready to sink his fangs into your neck. Heâs only narrowly stopped when the moon shines on your face and he knows itâs you. If it wasnât, whoever took your place would not doubt be dead.
- Survival: Blood
Idia Shroud [ Reaper ]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- With how moody Idia is, you forget what his occupation is until he shows up at your door with the scythe he uses to escort the dead.
- Reapers arenât necessarily evil or good, which is why youâre always conflicted about how to feel about Idia. Should you⌠Make your decisions based off his personality rather than what he is to slay himâ? Why is he whispering about how all the other monsters should drop deadâ Ah, he thinks theyâre cooler than him.
- You essentially work as a discounted vent session as Idia talks about how everyone else is so much worthier than him to be slain by hunters. They all have cool abilities and cool looks, what is he stuck with? An edgy cloak and a tool farmers use to cut hayâ
- His rant is cut short at the sound of a cheap board game slamming on the table, his eyes looking up to you placing a game piece on the spot, signaling him to take his turn as you tell him how heâs âthe only one you find playing games with funâ. Truly, you must be one of the kindest souls heâs had the fortune of meeting, he should know, half of the spirits he escorts are huge douches.
- It just makes him all the more worried about bringing you to the after life.
- Even though Idia doesnât have a reason to actively hurt humans, itâs still worrying when he describes to you in detail of his After life Capabilities. He once told you a story about how a guy was acting so high and mighty he trapped him in the space between life and death, only coming back to laugh at him when the man was practically broken. He only stops his retelling when he looks up and sees the most hurt expression on your face.
- After that, he sits up before you can even say anything, leaving immediately as he buries his head in his hands. The next day, heâs at your door as you silently stare at him, his form of retribution for your hurt being whatever you mentioned wanting during the week. You accept his gift, but that still doesnât stop the fear of what Idia does to the souls he guides with a lack of fondness.
- Survival: Unable to Die. (Speculation)
Malleus Draconia [Dragon Gargoyle⌠And⌠something else?]
- Warning: Capable of Magic.
- Heavy durability, as he is pure stone. in times of desperation, you watch as green sparkles fly around the man as stone turns soft. His spell doesnât last long but in his desire he chooses to pepper you in kisses with smooth lips. The first time he attempted to romantically place a peck on your arm, you cringed at the feeling of rough stone on your skin. It hurt his feelings so he opted to just spell himself instead.
- Heavy. He didnât wanna move away from a doorway you had to exit through to leave. You tried lifting him out of the way, you donât think youâve ever tried so hard to move something before. He thought it was an attempt at a hug, so you ended up being smooshed in his arms for an hour before Lilia saved you.
- Camaflouge, the stone heâs made of, and moss that grows on his body can be manipulated in any way he wishes, even his size, itâs scary watching him go from his regular 6 feet to an astonishing 10. This trait of his has served numerous moments where youâre surveying his castle only to feel arms pulling you back into a stone exterior. Your reflexes are swift to throw a punch, only to have the cruel reminder of rock busting your hand.
âAh forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you Child of huntersâ
âMy hand is broken Malleus.â
âWe can just get you a new hand can we not?â That night serves as the first of having to tell Malleus he canât always spell you when youâre injured. To this, he tells you thatâs nonsense and heâll expend all his reserves for you.
- Considering heâs also a Dragon, flight, and fire breathing really shouldnât surprise you. What does surprise you is when he looked more dragon than gargoyle sometimes, his eyes becoming more lively, scales being more obvious, and his wings and horn being truer than theyâve ever been. You have a sneaking suspicion his instincts change forms too, his already heavy clinginess increasing tenfold. Youâre either held by his clawed fingers or wrapped in his wing.
- Despite Malleus being marked as one of the most dangerous kills possible, you find it extremely easy to⌠ask him to do something. In fits of anger, heâll cling impossibly close to you, trying desperately to attempt to cease the ugly feeling festering inside him. Heâll tell you he never wants you to leave his side. If youâre not feeling like being trapped inside, all you need to do is wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his ear with a low whisper, asking him to let you go. For a moment, his grip will tighten, but slowly he relents, his stone eyes watching you wave goodbye.
- Though, truthfully, You donât feel like youâre free⌠Sometimes, you notice gargoyles in places where there shouldnât be any. Sooner or later, his resolve might break, asking him for such freedoms might not be as easy.
- Not only that but⌠Thereâs definitely a side to him that isnât just some Dragon Gargoyle. Whenever you have the chance to dig deeper into it, youâre met with a wall that separates you from the truth. Just what is Malleus?
- Survival: ???, Unable to Die. Do not attempt.
Lilia Vanrouge [ ??? ]
- Caution: Possibly capable of Magic.
- Certainly the most mysterious of the bunch⌠To be fair, everyone in the Diasmonia space is filled with anonymity. He doesnât have any specific qualities that warrant a decisive conclusion, but youâre confident that heâs not a human. Sometimes he has wings, sometimes fangs, sometimes spider legs, just what is he?! (He has used this capability to scare you on numerous occasions, taking the form of a giant wasp and chasing you once. When he gets bored though, he clings onto you endlessly, not as bad as Malleus but still very often. You woke up to him in your bed once, and now he occasionally appears there to âwake you upâ by sliding his arms around your waist. Please tell him youâll only let him do this if he stops turning into freaky stuffâŚ)
- You have no doubt heâs one of the monsters that eat humans. You took a sniff of his red juice once, itâs definitely blood, and considering why youâre here, itâs for sure not animal blood. Out of guilt for failing whatever human is his current meal, you offered up yourself as a blood bag, and he happily indulged, pining you to the table and nipping that delicious spot on your neck. Out of courtesy for everyone else in the castle... You lock the door.
But it doesnât matter, youâre quite sure he didnât honor the agreement anyway, as heâs happily feasting on a mystery meat you know isnât any creature near this castle.
- He always keeps you on your toes, one of the moments being when he used his flight to carry you all over the sky, laughing at you and your body clinging onto him in fear of dropping to your death. It makes it worse that he doesnât do it slow, he flies so fast you can hear the wind slicing through the air, your arms only wrapping around his neck trying to get even closer than you already are.
âLiliaâŚ! Lilia! Put us downâ! Iâm gonna dieâŚ!â you can feel his hand pat your head as he tightens his grip on your body.
âAwwâŚdonât worry, as long as Iâm here you wonât fall!â you believe him, but that doesnât make you feel any safer at allâŚ
- Despite how decrepit the Diasmonia castle is, there are still photos of its rein on the wall. In an attempt to know your targets better, you look at some of them, immediately recognizing Lilia in one of the frames⌠But, his aura seemed different, more cold, more cruel⌠He was bloodied, and youâre sure that body heâs holding is what you think it is, but, he doesn't have that usual crazy happy look he has when he catches his next meal.
-Just how did Lilia end up like this?
- Survival: Undocumented
Sebek Zigvolt [ Swamp Monster ]
- He says youâre pathetic. (He continues to leave flowers specific from his swamp at your door) Youâre not⌠Youâre not very sure what he thinks of youâŚ? He says youâre a coward, yet continues to gift you plants after you offhandedly mentioned how you think theyâre pretty. So⌠What does that meanâŚ?
- Maybe theyâre poisonous⌠Heh⌠Maybe you can use them on Crowleyâ
- Your plan of attack is interrupted as a booming voice bursts your ear drums, the source of distress being the green being covered in moss, water, and vines. You follow the trail of plants leading from the swamp to the creature behind you, a bear, wrapped in controlled swamp foliage by the monster of the water. Sebek huffs and chastises you for such carelessness, but the feeling of you scooping his hands into yours and thanking him with a smile makes the words on his tongue go numb. Not for too long though, as he tells you obviously a beast like him can handle such lowly creatures, no wonder you didnât notice.
- Before you came along, according to Silver, the water he resides in used to be a mess, as he said âLilia believes it to fit my role of Swamp Monster, so I shall keep it!â so he kept it the way it is and let it out control. But, apparently, after you, it subtly became neater, flowers adorning the ridges of where once was messed moss, his water adorned with petals of your favorite color, the place even smelling like your favorite scent. He tells you itâs just a change of scenery for Malleus, not anyone else, you only smile at him, not replying. Malleus doesnât have the same favorite scent.
- Like his fondness for nature, his power of water is equally as tantalizing to watch. He didnât know you were there, but you were watching him train, your eyes becoming more entranced in his movements when you saw him become sidetracked from his patience for a moment. A book was laid in front of him, one that he delved deeper and deeper into with interest. It seems he has a fondness for literature, so after that, you would leave books you had at his residence, watching with amusement at how fascinated he was. Unfortunately, you walked up to him once when he was meant to be training, and in attempt to hide his hobby, he flicked his hands and let the water swallow every page in aqua.
âI have been training this whole time humanâŚ!â
âAh, I got you all those. Now theyâre wetâŚâ He acts like he doesnât care, but he secretly feels bad, so discreetly, he attempts to piece every page lost in the water together before presenting you with a new book.
- Survival: Swamp
Silver [ ??? ]
- Honestly, his abilities are lighthearted when not used to a heavy extent. He can eat dreams of those who sleep, typically, nightmares. There have been rumors spreading of a night creature who creeps into rooms, sucking the ambitions and hopes of its victims⌠Theyâre not wrong, if heâs called upon too often heâll strip the person of all their wants and, dreams. Go a step further, and he might as well suck the life out of a human.
- But⌠You know he doesnât mean to⌠At least you hope not.
- Sometimes your judgment feels misplaced when you watch him go overboard in his hunger, his trance only capable of being broken when you grab him by the shoulder, maybe even point a blade at him in desperation.
- He can travel into dreams. Youâve caught him lurking in your conscious one too many times to count. Itâs not like heâs devouring your fantasy, but you canât help and wonder why heâs almost always there. He doesnât change whatâs happening in it, he doesnât destroy it so⌠Why is he there so often?
- itâs ironic, a creature who lives off the manifestation of peopleâs conscious, sleeps so much. You remember sorting through flowers Sebek had âgiftedâ you, (Youâre not sure if it counts as gifted considering he threw them at you saying âtheyâre frail, just like a weak human.â) and Silver had sat right next to you, begining a sentence before dropping his head into your lap, a deep slumber commencing on your thighs.
- He wakes up ready to apologize, but the feeling of your hands gently playing with his hair, is enough for him to fall back asleep immediately.
- Heâs a lot more welcoming to stay with compared to the rest of the monstrous residents of Diasmonia. If youâre free from Malleus and Lilias's grasp, youâre quick to run over to him. Heâs typically sleeping, so, when heâs nodding off you sit down next to him, slowly placing your head on his shoulder as you fall asleep. If youâre to be trapped here for a bit, it wouldn't hurt to have some form of comfort in this run-down place.
As you fall into slumber, you secretly wish to meet Silver in a dream again.
Itâs coincidental that he wakes up the moment you place your head on him, itâs a pretty sight to him. He hopes⌠youâll stay here, he enjoys your company too much. As soft snores leave you, his hands move on their own, grasping onto your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.
Itâs selfish, he was raised to do what he must to survive as a monster by his father. So he knows, what he feels is natural, but thereâs a lingering thought he shouldnât feel this heavy about a human⌠He doesnât wanna let you go.
- Survival: Dream Feasting
Neige Leblanche [ Angel ]
- Itâs⌠a bit unnerving how kind he is⌠You understand heâs a supposed Guardian Angel specially dedicated to your well but goodness, he was not very good at his job.
- He essentially watches you go about your day, occasionally blessing you to see your eyes light up with happiness.
- Despite how much he grooms the feathers on his back, he never lets you get too close to them, folding them back up when youâre near enough to see them more intricately or graze your fingers on them. It never bothered you, truly, heâs so nice to to you you could never be suspicious of him.
- He had to attend to personal matters once when you were eating together, his wings fluttering before he ascended. A pair of feathers had fallen in place of where he once was, One plumage was as white as snow, and the otherâŚ
- Was as dark as ebony.
- Survival: Being Good
Rollo Flamme [ Human ]
- Heâs always been by your side.
- He would never be one of those wretched filthy beasts. Heâs always cared for you when you couldnât care for yourself.
- Donât look at him like that. Why⌠Why is there scorn in your eyesâŚ? Heâd never hurt you, never.
- Youâre the only sanctuary of purity in his life, he wants to embrace you. He always has, your happiness has always been his.
- He has always wanted to save you from the hellish life mother nature had dealt you.
So pleaseâŚ
- Let him hug the one thing he cares for one more time. AndâŚ
Forget the white lie he gave you.
- Survival: You
The day is today. The date you left Rollo without saying even the slightest hint of a farewell. It has been 364 days, without you.
Itâs a sorrowing sight for coworkers of his who know how close you are. But, if they had just looked closer, the looming feeling of festering jealousy would no doubt impede their senses.
Rollo knows he can feel it. He will find a way to drag whatever wretched beasts are ruining you with their filth, down to hell.
âAh! Mr.Flamme, Hello Helloâ!â ringed fingers slam mercilessly into the wood of a desk, any harder and he mightâve broken it. âBe carefulâŚ! This desk is expensiveâŚ!â
âItâs been a year since [Name] left for these jobs⌠Why arenât they back?â Rollos on the verge of bursting a vein, the only composure he has left is strung together by the thin thread of hope he has of you coming back, coming back to him.
âWell, My little Birdie isââ
âThere is no My, and there is no Birdie, donât call them that.â
âPossesive muchâŚâ
âItâs not posseviness.â Crowley only nods at him, obviously, he doesnât believe the man, but heâll pretend if it means moving this conversation along.
âI will answer your question in due time, now would you please⌠remind yourself why it is youâre here in the first place?â
âââ
A/n Did I do a shit ton of research about monsters and their abilities for this, a post that was meant to be a shitpost? No, who would do that? (I would). Anyways, I hope this can satisfy Monster!Twst enjoyers while I work on the heartslaybul chapter, I promise Iâm working on it to make it the best possible! (Blame the economy for my lack of activity on it)
#twst x reader#monster!twst#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia x reader#floyd leech x reader#rollo flamme x reader#ace trappola x reader#jade leech x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#rook hunt x reader#twisted wonderland x yuu#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yan twst#vesconcepts
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âtime will tell.â
[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]
summary. âyou are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.â
pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.
word count. 9.5k.
tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf
note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one
HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort â or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all theyâve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.Â
At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry canât even count the amount of conspiracy theories heâs read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.Â
Even Hermioneâs shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort â of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harryâs already forgiven her. But thereâs a part of him that despises the way heâs never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.
. â
ËĚŁ- : ⧠: â â âš â â : ⧠: -ËĚŁâ
.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables â to Harryâs surprise, you glare right back at her. Youâre awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss â Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears heâd like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remusâs eyes.
Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.Â
Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.Â
But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.Â
Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE â Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine â you are not amused.Â
You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when sheâs miffed with the twins. âYou are aware, right, that just by existing here youâve changed the future? Your future? And, thatâs not even the worst thing that could happen.âÂ
Harry sulks. âYes, mum.â He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.Â
âDonât call me that in public!â You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him â to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. âThe less people that know about this, the better. Itâs bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what youâre going to do?âÂ
âConsidering I was thrown here against my will, no.â Harry shrugs. âAnd to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.â
You reach over to smack his head, scowling.
âOw! That hurt!â Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. âThis is technically child abuse, did you know that?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âDo you at least have a plan to get home?âÂ
âOf course I do,â Harry retorts with a scoff, âHer name is Hermione Granger.âÂ
âHopeless.â You groan exasperatedly. âAbsolutely hopeless.âÂ
Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present â his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parentsâ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isnât the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy whoâs pestering his mother â even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)
âRight then,â You say after your tangent â which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. âIf Iâm going to help you get back homeââÂ
Harryâs heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didnât want to go home just yet â not to where people just took and took from him. Heâs exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. Itâs for the greater good, of course, because his existence â present or past â is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.Â
ââyou need to answer this one question for me.â Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.Â
Harry nods slowly. âAs long as itâs within reason, yeah.âÂ
You inhale sharply. âDo I outlive Dolores Umbridge?âÂ
The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.Â
Thatâs all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.
âThat slimy bitch!âÂ
Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.
. â
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(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take â you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father wonât notice the way you shy from Fergusonâs touch. Youâre not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wifeâs passing â as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your fatherâs jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare â you do not need anyoneâs pity.Â
The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.Â
You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. Itâs not until youâre unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.Â
You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. Thereâs nothing you can do but cry.Â
Youâve used up all your smiles for tonight.Â
But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.Â
You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human youâve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt â period.Â
When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. Itâs not a familiar one to you, but thenâÂ
âThatâs Sirius.âÂ
You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.
Sirius Black.
âOh, none of that,â He tells you when you move to stand. Thereâs barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you canât figure out what heâs planning. What you donât expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.Â
âYouâll get creases,â You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched â but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. âYour mother will be cross with you.âÂ
Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. âWalburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.â
You gasp. âThatâs horrible!âÂ
Sirius gives you a look. âYou donât believe that.âÂ
You really donât, but you donât have the courage to admit it either.Â
After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, âSo who was that?â
âWho was who?â You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still canât wrap your head around how weird this is â sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your motherâs hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)Â
âBald guy, older than Merlin himself.â Sirius makes a face. âLooks like a troll. Smells like one, too.â
A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldnât be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right â Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. âMy betrothed.âÂ
Sirius nods in understanding. âMy mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.âÂ
You grimace. âWhich cousin?âÂ
He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, âBellatrix.â
This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. âO-Oh, thatâs golden.âÂ
âNo, itâs not,â says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. âItâs horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.â He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. âOi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.âÂ
âS-Sorry.â You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. âI just canât imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.â
âThatâs disgusting.â Sirius gags. âYouâre horrible, I hope you know that.âÂ
When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. âHereâs to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.âÂ
You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. âCheers, Black.âÂ
âWill you go to Hogwarts next year?â He asks you once heâs bitten off the tail of his mice.Â
You nod.Â
Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. âWeâll be friends when school starts?â
Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. âFriends.âÂ
The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.
You pretend that Allegra doesnât throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you donât notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.Â
You pretend that it doesnât hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.
They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; thereâs no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)Â
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
âSO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.âÂ
Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. âWhatâs the rush?â Itâs unfair, heâd only just met you, and now heâs losing time with you.Â
You sigh. âHarry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. Itâs not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.âÂ
When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. âHarry? Whatâs wrong?âÂ
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. âWhat do you know about the Mirror of Erised?âÂ
Your head tilts in confusion. âThat it shows our heartâs deepest desire.âÂ
âYeah,â says Harry, nodding. âI was eleven when I found it.âÂ
âOh, Harry. . .âÂ
Itâs almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. âDid you know, before today, I hadnât known at all what your voice sounded like?âÂ
You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.Â
âWhen I looked into the mirror, I saw my parentsâall of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind meâhappy.â Harry swipes a tear from his eye. âI wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.â
âItâsââ
âDangerous, I know.â He laughs bitterly. âJust like finally being able to meet you all here.â
âHarry, you arenât supposed to be here in the first place,â You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.Â
âI know that!â He exclaims desperately. âBut is it so selfish to just want some time? I donât want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why canât I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?âÂ
âYour friends,â You tell him firmly. âYour friends who must be worried sick that youâre gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.âÂ
âI know.â Harry wilts. Heâs got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Siriusâs death. âI know. But canât I just have this one thing?âÂ
You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: âDo you want to hear a story?â
âWhat?â Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.Â
Shrugging, you say, âStories to remember us by. Iâve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know itâs not much, and youâve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but itâs better than nothing, right?â You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. âWeâve got time to spare, anyway.âÂ
Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when youâre the gentlest creature heâs ever known â just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.Â
âWhat do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.â Â
Harry snickers. âNot a chance, mum.âÂ
âWorth a try.â And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.Â
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(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU DONâT UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading othersâ personal space.Â
A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat â but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses heâs ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away â sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.Â
Before them, you hadnât really known the different ways to love and be loved.Â
Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into Jamesâs requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much â one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didnât even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.Â
(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at Jamesâs flexed muscles, mouth wide open.Â
âAs I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!â
âSure, dove, whatever you say.â)
But now, you really arenât so sure of your decision.Â
âOh, sheâs beautiful, Jamie!â Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. Youâre engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would â and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what youâve been missing all along â the thought stabs you right in the heart. âPlease excuse the mess, dear, we havenât had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.âÂ
âI-Itâs okay,â You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.Â
âOh, what a darling you are!â Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. âCome, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart â James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Donât think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didnât owl me letters for two months straight!âÂ
James whines as he hides behind you. âMum, Iâm seventeen, stop embarrassing me.âÂ
Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. âYouâre going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.âÂ
With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother â you donât understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum whoâd welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece sheâs created on a grumbling James, whoâs rubbing his skin to erase his motherâs affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after youâve unpacked.Â
Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and Jamesâs neck. âWelcome home, Jamie!â She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, âSo happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?âÂ
You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godricâs Hollow â it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (theyâre not the only ones spoiled; they couldnât refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Siriusâs motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.Â
âIt was fine,â You say in a daze.
Lily sees right through you â and frowns sadly. âYou alright?âÂ
Were you?Â
You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. Thereâs a swell in your throat that you canât seem to push down. Thereâs a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!Â
There are hints of life all around the manor. Remusâs textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lilyâs O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledoreâs letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagallâs previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. Thereâs a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. Itâs a wall dedicated to them, you realize.Â
Then, you find it.Â
Right there, up above Jamesâs spot, and beside Siriusâs display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.Â
Itâs a space on that wall just for you.Â
James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. âMum left a space when I first told her about you. I-Itâs yours, you can put anything you want there.âÂ
âI canât,â You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. Itâs too much.Â
James blinks. âCanât? Itâs yours, I promise. Mum wonât mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I wonât tear it down â Maraudersâ honor. I can help you if you want. I-Iâm not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade ofââ
âJames, I canât do this.âÂ
Thatâs all you say before you run out of the door.Â
(And youâre absolutely delusional if you think James wonât follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)Â
You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots â designer couldnât help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.Â
James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. âCome on, dove, itâs not safe out here. Letâs go back home, yeah? Iâm sorry for upsetting you. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry â Iâm so sorry, dove, please donât cry, itâs killing me to sâsee you like this.â Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you canât go back to the manor. âWhat did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love youâIâm sorry.â
You bat his chest. âGâGo home, Jamie. Iâll just take the train back to the castle.âÂ
âWhat?â He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. âYâYou canât. Not in this weather. Youâll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.âÂ
You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.Â
James rises in an instant, reaching for you. âNo, no, no, no, no. You donât get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-Iâll fix it.âÂ
âGoodbye, James,â You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.Â
He grimaces. âThat wonât work on me, princess, and you know it. Donât push me awayâplease.âÂ
âGo home, James!â You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lilyâs voice grow louder in the distance. âJust go!â
He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. âYouâre a coward if you walk away from hereâfrom usâright now!â James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. âAnd I hate cowards more than anything!âÂ
You donât look back.Â
(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. Heâs all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.Â
âDonât want one,â He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remusâs gift. âJust want her.âÂ
Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling Jamesâs head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to Jamesâs hair.Â
âI said I hated her,â James says weakly. âI donâtâI never will. I just hate that sheâs out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be hereâwith us. I hate not knowing that sheâs safe, or that she thinks I donât love her anymoreâthatâs a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I donât deserve her.âÂ
James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. âI miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.â
âYouâll cry yourself sick, love.â Remus wipes each tear away. âLetâs go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.â Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moonâs command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are â smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus canât fault you for running away.
Youâd kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.Â
Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
âAND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.â Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. âIf he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my nameâoh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes Iâm haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?âÂ
Harry nods excitedly. âDefinitely.â
âGot anymore stories?â He asks.Â
You cackle menacingly. âBoy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifootâs!âÂ
Harry grimaces. âDo I even want to hear about this?âÂ
âOh, pish-posh.â You dismiss him with a wave. âYou do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the dayâhow strange. I wonder why.âÂ
Harry stares at you in disbelief. âYouâre joking.âÂ
âI most certainly am not, Harry Potter.âÂ
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(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear â last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girlsâ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.Â
Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic â then the girl screams again, and you realize itâs Allegra.Â
You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, âI-Itâs alright. Iâll handle it.âÂ
âAre you sure?â Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.Â
âCertain,â You respond, yawning.Â
As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegraâs side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty â silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.Â
âI donât want to marry himâI canât! Heâs old enough to be my father!â Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. âThey said theyâd wait until I graduatedâthey promised! Iâm supposed to marry him this summer!âÂ
Your heart breaks for your friend â thereâs nothing you can do but hold her until sheâs cried every bit of her soul out.Â
âI hate them,â Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.Â
âI know,â You say defeatedly.Â
âI wish I was dead,â She replies lifelessly. âHe canât marry a dead bride.âÂ
âDonât say that,â You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. âPlease.âÂ
Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. âThe world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And itâll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?âÂ
âI donât know,â You say honestly.Â
Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. âPansy,â She mumbles.
âWhat?â
âIf we lived in a better world and I married for love, Iâd want to name my daughter Pansy â like the flower.â
(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap â you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good â more than good, it was liberating. Itâs like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face â because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girlsâ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank â and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.Â
You get what you want, naturally â as princesses do. You decide then that youâre going to create a world where girls like Allegra donât cry anymore.)
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon â no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. âI-Iâm sorryââÂ
âYesterday was hardly your fault,â You interrupt him. âThereâs no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didnât know, but now you know. I donât hold it against them â anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least theyâve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother â erm, Lily â she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.â
Oh, Harry knows.
And Hermione knows it all too well.Â
âOthers call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,â You tell him grimly, âBut I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.â
At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.Â
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(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)Â
âLOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.âÂ
You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. âI donât drool, idiot.âÂ
Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. âOf course you donât, princess.â
Currently, youâre lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; itâs the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby â the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; youâre good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and thereâs no other place youâd rather call home.Â
Youâre in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. Itâs the most beautiful set of jewelry youâve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lilyâs hand rests under your jumper, Siriusâs thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.Â
âYou need a haircut, my love,â You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets â itâs gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.Â
Lily buries her nose in your hair. âSheâs right, Siri.âÂ
âIâm always right.â You pout.Â
Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. âCourse you are â our girlâs bloody brilliant, isnât she, Lily-pad?â
âWithout a doubt.â
You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Siriusâs chest â theyâre not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.
âI love you,â says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. âI donât know who told you that you donât deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you donât even know how much. This right here is real â and nothing could ever change that.âÂ
As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give â only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your motherâs friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lilyâs, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didnât mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.Â
How lucky you are.Â
âLetâs get married,â You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Siriusâs hand on your waist stiffen.Â
âWhat?â Lily gasps breathlessly.Â
You smile up at Lily. âLetâs get married. All of us. I donât care where, oâor about the rings, letâs just get married. With the war going on, we deserve sâsomething good.âÂ
Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. âYes. Oh my Godsâweâre getting married!âÂ
Sirius stares at you in wonder. âBloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?â
You grin. âIs that a yes?âÂ
âItâs a yes â forever.â Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. âCouldnât get rid of us now even if you tried.âÂ
âI donât think Iâd want to, anyway.âÂ
Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor
âWeâre home!â James announces in the entryway.Â
Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:
âWeâre all getting married!âÂ
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.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
âThat ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,â You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. âItâs meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.â You chuckle at Harryâs perturbed grimace. âNo, I didnât marry him â thankfully. After Allegra. . . IâI. . . I couldnât bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, Iâd give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, Iâd resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone elseâs hand.âÂ
You shake your head. âI want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.âÂ
Harry wonât let that happen, he wonât ever let your name be forgotten. Heâll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lilyâs defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. Heâll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.Â
âWhat do the words mean?â He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.
You smile. âTime, devourer of all things.â
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.
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
âREMUSâTHE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!âÂ
Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows â still too small to carry three people but hasnât given out yet, anyway. He takes Lilyâs legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. âItâs a film, dove, theyâre acting.âÂ
You purse your lips. âTheyâre trapped inside, then?âÂ
Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. âNot quite, princess, itâs recorded. Movies are like moving photographs â but theyâre an hour long with sounds.âÂ
âOh.â You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit â the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. âLily-pad, sheâs singing â again.âÂ
Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. âSheâs supposed to sing, dove, itâs a musical.âÂ
âWell, yes,â You begin, and James groans into Siriusâs chest, âBut they should just talk instead of singing all the time â Sandyâs got a lovely voice, though. I just donât understand why Dannyâs treating her like that! Truthfully, I donât like any of Sandyâs new friends, other than Frenchy â sheâs harmless. If I was Sandy Iâd move on from Danny â but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I canât blame her.âÂ
Sirius glowers at you. âYou like his leather jacket?âÂ
âHis hair?â James exclaims in horror.Â
Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. âIf I were you, dove, Iâd be quiet and just watch the film.â
âOh, no, no.â Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. âSince when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Letâs unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?âÂ
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. âPlay the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.âÂ
âIâm telling Euphemia on you!âÂ
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.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
ââand then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.â Harryâs arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you â it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.Â
Your eyes grow wide. âA troll? In Hogwarts? They canât have, not unlessââ
âSomeone let it inâI know!â Harry grins. âYouâre not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.âÂ
You snap your fingers, âMalfoy, the older one. I know that lumpâs got something to do with this. Canât have been Snape or Quirrell.â
âJust you wait.â Harryâs eyes twinkle with mischief. ââand so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .âÂ
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.
(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces â was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and youâre fairly certain that youâre a better fighter and survivalist than him â not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harmâs way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.Â
(âItâs not some game out there!â Remus runs through his hair in frustration â he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. âEvery time you step into a raid, thereâs a possibility of you dying, donât you understand that? And even if you survive â youâll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.âÂ
âSo what?â You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. âI just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?âÂ
âYes!â Lily angrily replies. âThat is the whole point of us joining the Order â so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!â
You grind down on your jaw. âYou have got another thing coming, if you think Iâm not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.âÂ
James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. âThere are horrors out there you canât even imagine. I-Itâs worse than we thought. Itâs our every nightmare come to life.âÂ
You raise your chin defiantly. âThen we face it together.â)
Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home â scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.Â
Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago youâd never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.Â
The alley was quiet â too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.Â
Peter shivers and you glance at him â heâs become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you canât quite make out. Itâs different from all the other times youâve been asked to search and rescue.Â
âDonât you feel like thereâs something wrong?â You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.Â
âDunno, kid,â Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. âEverything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.âÂ
âI get what you mean,â You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. âIâll scout ahead, who knows whatâs been here before us. I donât want to risk any of our lives, so letâs be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?âÂ
When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.Â
âAvada Kedavra!âÂ
You scream as Gideonâs deathly pale body falls to the floor.Â
âNo!âÂ
You arenât given a moment to rush to his side â someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. Itâs not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.Â
âRosier.â You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.Â
âStupid witch,â He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. âWhere are your lovers now?âÂ
âJealous?â You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. âWe donât have room for one more, sorry.â
âShut up!â He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and thatâs all the opening you need.Â
âExpulso!âÂ
Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. Youâre winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.Â
âAccio wand!âÂ
The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out whoâs stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater â except itâs Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows â it doesnât make sense.Â
âPeter?â You call out.Â
âCrucio!âÂ
The curse finds its home in your body â and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon â hand desperately reaching for his shirt.Â
âCrucio!â Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. âScream for me againâCrucio!âÂ
Itâs as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.
âYouâfuckingâtraitor,â You gurgle, throat welling up with blood thatâs risen from your stomach. âTheyâllâneverâforgive youânever.âÂ
âCrucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch â SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.âÂ
You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideonâs hand. Iâm sorry, you want to tell him. Iâll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you â one you know you wonât survive â you snatch the wand from Gideonâs hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.Â
âDefodio!âÂ
You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwickâs quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.Â
That just leaves one more problem.Â
Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. âI-Iâm sorryâIâm sorry. I had to. . . TâThey killed my mum, they killed MâMary, and tâthey said I would die too if I dâdidnât do this. Iâm sorry. YâYour father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you lâlive if you joined us. WâWe can live, tâthereâs still a chance for us to survive.âÂ
Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening â you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.
âIâd ratherâdie.â You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. âYouâll die tooâyouâll feel my blood on your skinâeverywhere you go, Peter.âÂ
Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. âYâYou were the only oâone who dâdidnât laugh at me. NâNot like the others.âÂ
âWhen they find outâyouâre dead, Pettigrew.â You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. âThereâs nowhere you can hideâyouâre a dead man.âÂ
âP-Please die,â Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. âPlease die, sâso I can live. I câcanât fight anymore, Iâm tired.âÂ
Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peterâs silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godricâs Hollow.Â
Oh.
Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. Itâs like coming home after a dayâs work.Â
You just wanted to rest now.Â
The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peterâs next words.Â
âAvada Kedavra.âÂ
(Itâs past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where itâs been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.Â
Youâll feel my blood on your skin.
Youâre a dead man.Â
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.Â
âOh, Iâm so glad youâre home safe â welcome home â thank the Gods youâre alive,â Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. âMerlin, what happened? Thereâs too much blood on you. Itâs on your shirt and your face.âÂ
âItâs not mine,â says Peter hoarsely.Â
Siriusâs gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. âWhere is she?âÂ
Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. âPeter? IâIs she alright? Has something happened to her?âÂ
Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peterâs soiled shirt. âWhere the fuck is she, Pettigrew?âÂ
Peter begins to weep. âIâIt was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon râran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and IâI was too far away.âÂ
Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.
Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peterâs face. âWhere is her body?âÂ
âIt was a disintegration spell.â With Severus Snape â brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.Â
James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. âIt should have been youââ James snaps at Peter. âIf it came down to you or herâyou should have saved her!âÂ
âW-What?â Peter stammers, eyes wide. âShe chose to save mâme.âÂ
James sneers at him. âYou should have just died.â)
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ËĚŁ- : ⧠: â â âš â â : ⧠: -ËĚŁâ
.
(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)Â
ST. JEROMEâS GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lilyâs graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand â four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. Thereâs no funeral for Sirius as thereâs no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing â there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail wonât come out of whatever hole heâs crawled into. Either him, or Severus.Â
He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.Â
You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemiaâs in her tombstone, and Remus figures itâs the fitting place to leave you be â with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes youâre at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)Â
Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at Jamesâs headstone and raises his bottle to him. âNot even in death, huh?â
He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James â Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; itâs a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks itâs a wonderful memory to remember them by.Â
âTake care of them for me, Jamie.â
And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.Â
end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader#sunny's hp fics
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the hate game (1)
oliver wood x female!reader
wc:Â 13.3k
warnings: enemies to lovers, so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, super grumpy!oliver, oliver's scottish accent (it's a warning in itself), alcohol consumption, super! duper! cheesy! (sorry not sorry)
an:Â just survived the worst two weeks of my life, but the fic is finally here! this fic was originally a full 50 chapter fic i had planned for wattpad like three years ago but i found my draft for it recently and decided it needed a revival. so enjoy it, and don't forget to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)
summary:Â the only thing more grating than Oliver's foul moods and his permanent scowl, has to be the fact that he's so damn pretty. you fucking hate him for it.
part two/final part
Movies, as is their premise, glamourise plenty of things - high school, politics, tiny Greek islands - but none more than the classic sucker-punch.
The teeth-crunching, blood-spitting moment where skin meets skin in a satisfying thump that sends an unsuspecting victim to the floor. Music plays and the hero grins, grabbing the girl round the waist: dipping low to kiss her.
Whatâs consistently (conveniently) left out is how bloody painful it is to be on the sending end of that fist.
The first, and only, time youâd ever punched someone was in second year.
It had seemed like a great idea in the moment, quickly succeeded by the mind-numbing pain that shot up your arm where knuckle met face.
Youâd aimed for his jaw, but as it turns out: in addition to painful, punching someone wasnât a particularly accurate sport for a beginner and your slippery skin found a round-tipped nose instead.
A collective gasp and a monthâs worth of detention waited for you on the other side of your act of rage.
And sure, while afternoons in Snapeâs classroom every Friday sucked: it was all worth it.
Every purple knuckle that throbbed with the slightest brush, the points lost to Hufflepuff, the pages and pages of Hogwarts Does Not Condon Physical Violence youâd been forced to write was worth seeing the trickle of blood running down from Oliver Woodâs nose.
To see that smug fucking look wiped clean from his face. To watch how he doubled over in pain, grappling onto his friend for balance.
âTyler fancying you? Any bloke would rather snog a goblin.â
His little comment had earned him a broken nose.
It had been the start of a five year long feud.
Itâs the reason - now - why the ground is racing up to meet you, the nose of your broomstick pressed down towards it and wind whipping so hard against your face it draws tears. You knock into the ground, catching yourself on wobbly legs. A few feet away, Oliver Wood has done the same.
Heâs marching towards you with the same ferocity thatâs curdling in your chest:
âThaâs blatching and you know it!â His accent is ringing, thick and blistering with heat like it always is when he talks to you. At you, rather.
The accusation is crystal clear, and loud despite the echoing din of the quidditch stands above. From the field where you're parked, you can hear the chatter and the cheers and the boos all conglomerating into a fuzzy uproar.
Thereâs still twelve brooms floating in the air, spewing irritated shouts from players in both yellow and red:
Just let it go, Wood!
Come on, Cap, can we just finish the match please!
You promptly ignore them. Oliver follows suit.
âWhat?â You scoff, face hot as a kettle on a lit stove. âAs if Laurel and Hardy havenât been elbowing my girls all game!â
It goes without saying that youâre referring to Gryffindorâs red-head twin-set of beaters.
âBullshit.â He seethes, itâs purposefully quiet enough that McGonagallâs approaching figure doesnât pick it up.
She, unlike yourself, is less patient and knobby vein-webbed hands come out to knock you both against your chests: widening the gap to a safe enough distance between the opposing captains.
âYou two are exhausting.â And she sounds it too. Her glasses tremble at the edge of her nose, sun shining down on her aged face. "If one more match this season is interrupted because you two can't control your tempers, you will both be stripped of captainship and you will not fly until you graduate. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
But Oliver isn't looking at her. His eyes are focused on yours over her cloaked shoulder.
He's taking the predictable route of not replying first.
"Crystal clear, Professor." You resign to speaking first, skewing a grin at his anger-sewn face.
Itâs another long boring moment before he cuts his gaze from yours, kicks up a patch of grass and grits through his teeth.
âYes, professor.â
As can be imagined, things between you and Oliver Wood have been tense since the day heâd hobbled up to the hospital wing with a palm over his face and blood dripping down over his already red tie.
But with age, came ferocity, and what started as passing glares in the corridor melted into anger-drowned faces and sharp words flung with intent to scar.
Things got infinitely worse when you were elected captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team in the same year Oliver was made captain for Gryffindor. It stoked the already sizzling embers that made moments around him warm and stuffy and hard to breathe.
The murky history swirled with what should be friendly competition, instead frothing into a bubbling pot of annoyed teammates and exasperated teachers and more sessions of detention than you would have ever had if you'd never met the son of a bitch that is Oliver Wood.
It's what puts you in situations like the ones you find yourself in the middle of before you even know how you got yourself there.
"You two," Professor Burbage had never held you in particularly high favour. It was just your luck that Oliver received the same courtesy. "One more word out of either of you and I will be seeing both of you this afternoon for detention in my classroom."
It was even unluckier that she'd sat you two barely three wizards away from one another and one fly-away comment had blown out into another heat-filled exchange. It always does.
"But professor--" you try.
"Right then. I'll see you both at five o' clock."
Oliver sighs, hands running up over his head between chestnut locks: "Fucking perfect. Thanks, big-mouth."
"Would you like to make it two days, Mr Wood?"
He huffs like an angry dog, tightening the grip on his writing-feather but says nothing else.
The end of the lesson doesn't come soon enough and when it does, Oliver is first out of his seat. You're grateful for it.
Cherry bumps you in the shoulder where she throws her bag over it. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
You grin, despite the sunken feeling hollowing your chest with the acknowledgment that you're gonna be spending yet another afternoon at the mercy of an under-paid staff member alongside the hothead that was the Gryffindor captain.
"Come on, that wasn't my fault and you know it."
Her tight red curls dance when she shakes her head. They match her blood red tie. "Somehow it never is."
To your dismay, but not surprise, Enzo shares Cherry's views when he waltzes into step beside you in the corridor between Muggle Studies and Divination. His arm drapes over your shoulders and his tall frame shakes when he laughs.
"You know," his voice is thick and gravelly. "You two are gonna have to fuck it out eventually."
You roll your eyes, shoving him off you with a chuckle. The sentiment isn't anything new. "Oh, shut up."
The day folds blurrily between classes and lunch and greenhouse visits that by the time you look up it's just about five o clock.
Burbage's office door stares down at you.
The corridor is ghostly all the way behind you and it's emptiness means it's easy to make out Oliver's heavy footsteps down the stone floor. They're not slow, in an arrogant strut, neither quick like he has somewhere to be.
He trudges. Like the weight of the world is strapping him to invisible pins in the floor. It's easy to figure that your existence doesn't lighten his load any.
You don't turn. He simply falls into place beside you, keeping a good foot distance between your tightened shoulders.
The door opens.
Charity Burbage is insufferable in the way that she forces you and Oliver to sit almost on top of each other behind a scratched up desk where she can watch you under the curtain of her ratty blond hair.
You inch the chair dramatically away from Oliver's.
She's set a stack of pages by him and a wet stamp. "Stamp these and sign the date."
Additionally, she's dropped a stack of envelopes under your nose. "Tuck and seal. When you're done, you can leave."
You eye the papers. There must be hundreds.
To Whom It May Concern,
Hogwarts would like to remind all parents and guardians that the third-years will require prior permission before being allowed to visit the nearby village of Hogsmeade--
You jump when Oliver's elbow knocks yours (more violently than what was really necessary). He holds the first page out to you silently, face dripping with impatience.
When you take the page, his thumb brushes yours.
The paper is delicate in your fingers where you fold it. You tuck and seal, and by the time you've set it aside Oliver is offering the next page to you again.
His thumb brushes yours for a second time.
You find that it does for every letter that's passed on.
It's hard not to watch him out the corner of your eye. Oliver has this dark brown, nearly black, hair that's thick and almost too long and untamed all over. It's matched by bushy eyebrows and speckled freckles over the bridge of his nose.
If you didn't hate him as much as you did, you might think he was pretty. You might think that anyway.
Time stretches until the sun is setting the classroom afire with golden light and it's boredom that causes it, or possibly a desire to hear his voice at such tight quarters, but you speak.
"You know," it's soft enough that Burbage doesn't look up from her Witch Weekly magazine. "Even if - in some act of God - Scotland qualifies for the semi-finals, Luxembourg is gonna flatten them. I mean, think about it unemotionally, Wood: they have Luca Schmit as seeker. It's really a no brainer--"
"Are yâreally just stupid or are you purposefully trynna start another argument?" His gaze flickers up to eye Burbage's desk warily, she still doesn't react.
Maybe it's both. After all, the subject of the Quidditch World Cup had been what put you both there in the first place.
You shrug, unfazed by his scathing remark.
"I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Well don't."
His hand brushes yours again.
-
Every second Friday, generally at the tail-end of lunch, Hooch's grey barn owl swoops low over your head and drops a smaller-than-average white envelope right into your mashed potatoes. Cherry yelps in surprise every time.
Then you watch the bird drop the same over the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables.
Good afternoon,
Reminder of Captain's meeting this afternoon in my office. Six o' clock, don't be late.
Regards,
Madam Hooch.
The letter says the same thing it has since you became captain and it's a wonder you still take the effort to break the seal on the envelope.
But come six o' clock, you're traipsing towards the west end of the castle. Lavender streaks caress the sky under the last impression of sunlight through the ornate stone arch of the corridor windows and an autumn chill creeps up your arms where your sweater isn't thick enough.
Hooch's office is in a quiet alcove, nearly impossible to find if you didn't know where to look, and the lamps are lit. Beyond the door, you can hear voices: you grin.
The door creaks noisily where you push it open. Inside it's cramped and cluttered with shelves of quidditch equipment - broken brooms, punctured quaffles and loose kits draping every open surface - but it's warm and smells like leather and is maybe your favourite little room in the whole castle.
The quidditch legend herself, Rolanda Hooch, has her legs kicked up on her desk and the boys are standing ahead of it locked in animated chatter.
She's laughing at something they said, and smiles when you enter.
"Sorry I'm late, coach."
It's nothing new and she waves you in with a smile. "Come in, poppet."
"Merlin," Marcus' shoulder finds yours and the force of the bump nearly sends you off your feet. "You'd be late to your own funeral hey, Puffers?"
You laugh, shoving him back with as much force as you can muster against the giant brute that is Slytherin captain Marcus Flint. It barely nudges him but he barks out a laugh, rough like tractor tires over crumbly concrete.
"I'm worth the wait." You quip back, leaning around Marcus to wink at Roger Davies. "Isn't that right, Rodger?"
He flirts back, "Always, sweetheart."
Roger is the antithesis of Marcus: all pale skin, blue eyes and short blonde hair. Easy on the eyes.
Oliver lingers just behind him, the tallest of the captains. You catch his eye, face slipping into something more serious, and nod. "Hey, Wood."
He nods in return, curt like how a ministry wizard's might be.
"Right," Hooch sits up straight in her high-back chair. "There are just a couple things we need to get through tonight, we won't be long."
The dynamic between the captains would be easy, if not for Oliver.
You're the only girl and that made for tough beginnings. Marcus is naturally brash and brutish, but - as you found - easy to impress with a couple showy tricks on the broom. A single promise to show him how to pull off a Woollongong Shimmy had him eating out your hand: the favour of a couple Slytherins was generally hard to buy and invaluable to a plushy Hufflepuff such as yourself.
Roger popped out the womb with a wink at the nurse. Impeccably charming and impossibly negotiable. Beyond being slightly dim, it was hard to say a bad thing about the Ravenclaw captain
On the other hand, Oliver was ⌠well, Oliver.
Hooch tapped the sharp end of a writing feather rhythmically at a spot on her desk, eyes roving her clipboard.
"Next week we're doing a clean up of the supply room down by the pitch. I've set you each up on days, the whole team needs to be down to help unless they're excused by a teacher: I want a written letter."
She offers a piece of parchment without looking up.
"As you all know, it's the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw game next week."
You bump your elbow to Marcus'. He looks down and grins a mouthful of crooked teeth before turning to Roger. "Ready, pretty boy?"
Roger rolls crystal blue eyes, but he's smiling too. "Bring it on, tough-shit."
"Oy," Hooch interrupts them with a cool sigh, "The last thing, you all submitted your autumn practice requests for the pitch: Roger, Marcus, you have the days you want--"
They nod. Your shoulders stiffen.
"--Oliver, Y/n. You both want Wednesday afternoons. Monday afternoon is open, I'll let you two decide between each other who is gonna move their practice. I want a decision before tomorrow night."
Marcus is sniggering under his breath. The edges of your mouth sink into a frown, of course he wants the same day as me.
You can feel the heat of Oliver's eyes on the side of your face. You don't indulge him, keeping your gaze settled on Hooch's face.
"We'll figure it out, coach."
"Unlikely." Roger's quip is barely a whisper but you catch it.
"Alright." Hooch doesn't. "You're dismissed, go get some dinner kids."
The office door bounces back off the stone wall where Marcus tosses it carelessly open, echoing all the way down the empty corridor.
Frosty air chases over your face and the boys start down towards the Great Hall. Roger is complaining about a potions essay he hasn't started and Marcus is shrugging him off with a suggestion that includes something along the vein of blackmailing a sixth year into doing it for him but you can't focus long enough to follow.
"Oliver." Irritation is prickling at the surface of your skin. It flares into an almost rash when he stops walking, glancing over his shoulder with an unconcerned expression. "Who's giving Wednesday up?"
His arms fold against his chest. You're working extremely hard not to look down where his biceps stretch the seams on his Hogwarts jumper. "Well, you obviously."
Marcus barks another laugh, he calls down the corridor: "We'll see you kids at dinner."
"Yeah, don't kill each other! It's only practice!"
You huff in disbelief, unconcerned with the running commentary.
"Uh," you mirror Oliver by folding your own arms. "no it's not. Come on, we can negotiate like civil people can't we?"
Thick caterpillar eyebrows disappear beyond the overgrowth hiding his forehead. "Negotiate? I'm the one who wasted three hours of my life in detention last week thanks to your big fat mouth. Wednesday is mine."
"That was a joint effort, twat." You can feel where your throat is flush with rising anger. It wires your jaw tight. "Are you really so bloody difficult that we can't even come to a simple agreement?"
"Difficult?" His arms have shifted from his chest to perch against his hips. "Just because I'm not giving you what you want? Cry me a fucking river, darling. Sorry Puffers, but I'm not your precious Marcus or Roger. I'm not gonna fold just cause you bat yer pretty little eyelashes at me."
Pretty?
You blink in surprise. It's brushed quickly aside for more pressing matters. Your hands scrunch into fists at your side:
"Well. I'm not giving it up. I want Wednesday."
"Neither am I."
"Fuck you."
"In your dreams."
-
Oliver collapses loudly into the open spot at the Gryffindor dining table. His callousness knocks Archie's goblet of pumpkin juice across the shiny wooden surface between dishes of sausages and peas and roast potatoes.
"Bloody hell, what's got you in a mood?" He's patting down the table with a serviette, transforming it into a orange lump under his palm.
Shaking his head, as if it would joggle the thought of you loose, Oliver stabs a chicken drumstick from the top of a nearby pile with his fork. He doesn't respond.
"Wait, let me guess." Archie presses the elbows of his red jumper into the still wet surface beside his plate. "Something to do with your little Hufflepuff sweetheart?"
Oliver grunted around a mouthful, looking annoyed. "Not mine and not a sweetheart. A fucking brat."
Archie seems to find something funny, leaning back on the bench with a haughty laugh. "Right. What she do this time?"
"Wants the pitch the same day as me for practice." He's mumbling around a mouthful of chicken, tipping forward to shove a spoon teetering with peas alongside it. "Refuses to give in, despite the fact that she put me in detention last week with Burbage."
Shifting to the edge of his seat, Archie leans around Oliver's frame to find your figure across the Hall at the yellow-lined table. He nods, seemingly finding you. "Yeah, she don't look too happy either."
"I don't care."
Oliver is trying very hard not to give into the itch to look back.
"Whatever," Archie's gaze finds his again. "in better news ... I spoke to the twins just before dinner. They're still on for tomorrow."
He's twitching in his seat, eyebrows dancing and grinning around his words like a kid who's found a matchbox.
Right. The twins.
Specifically, Daisy and Delilah Dawson: two Ravenclaw sisters a year below Oliver.
They're peng, Archie had reasoned, you need a little fling to get your mind off quidditch. You're too strung up, mate.
And sure, they were, but Oliver had more important things to do than gallivant across Hogsmeade attached to the hip of some sixth year who just wants to earn her I Kissed The Quidditch Captain! badge.
He'd groaned and whined and glowered at the prospect. Was it petulant? Naturally, but spending five sickles on subpar hot chocolate and making false conversation with some Ravenclaw was a waste of precious time in Oliver's humble opinion.
His priorities are, as they've always been, crystal clear in his mind.
1. Win Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup 2. Refer to point (1)
There was little wiggle room for the introduction of girls into any spot on that list.
You're the only one who came almost close to the tight list. Only because if there had to be a third priority, "shove winning the cup in Hufflepuff's face" might just crack it. He thought about you significantly more than any other girl in the castle and maybe that might mean something if he thought about too long about it, but fortunately, he refused to.
Regardless, Archie was adamant and more than a little pathetic when he mentioned that Daisy only agreed to see him if he had a date for Delilah. It was all settled very quickly.
And it's in this show of loyalty to his dearest friend that Oliver finds himself walking the cobblestone path down into Hogsmeade on a crisp Saturday morning.
The little village is bustling with students - it normally is - and the crowd has him knocking shoulders with Delilah who's walking in step beside him.
He's uncomfortable to find that she's staring dreamily up at the underside of his jaw.
On Oliver's other side: Archie is talking Daisy's ear off, making another pitiful attempt at holding her hand. He doesn't quite manage it and Oliver can't tell whether it's because she genuinely doesn't notice or she just can't be arsed.
"So," Delilah's voice is light and sweet. Delicate. "You mentioned that you take Arithmancy? I've heard it's tough."
Oliver nods airily. "Yeah ... yeah, it's difficult."
He tightens his jacket closer over his frame. The wind is whipping between their bodies and he thinks that maybe she didn't hear him over it's howling if her confused expression is anything to go by. He finds he's not bothered enough to repeat it.
The entrance of Madam Puddifoot's comes into view at the end of the walkway.
Oliverâs relieved. It's freezing out here and maybe he'll be more in the mood for flirtatious conversation once he's gotten some food in his stomach (Archie had insisted they skip breakfast: we have to order something to eat, so we can sit longer).
There's a jingle of a bell overhead when Archie pushes the door open, standing awkwardly aside to let the ladies in first.
Inside the shop, it's more than busy: powdery blue walls barely visible beyond the sea of Hogwarts couples crammed around tiny circle tables and waiters in red uniform knocking the back of their chairs with wobbling trays.
There's music coming from ... somewhere, it sounds like The Weird Sisters and at the sound, Oliver can't imagine how this morning could possibly go any worse.
Oh wait, yes he can.
You could be sitting at a table right by the door across a too-small-table knocking knees with some Slytherin prick. Like you are right there right now.
Delilah tugs on his wrist, it's gentle and he almost doesn't feel where he's being lead between tables towards an open booth across the room. He falls unceremoniously down against the torn leather, eyes never leaving your table.
You haven't noticed his presence, he knows because your lips are stretching around a giggle he can't hear but can already imagine. You don't smile around him, that's for sure.
Oliver's stomach is frothing and bubbling and he's trying really hard to tune back in where Archie's knocking a menu into his hand.
Of course you're there. To ruin his mood and his day, because you're just bloody perfect at it.
"So, am I seeing you girls at the Quidditch match on Saturday?" Archie's voice carries somewhere over his head.
Delilah laughs. Or maybe it's Daisy, Oliver doesn't look.
"Maybe," she says, "Depends if Oliver's gonna be there. You're gonna be there, right?"
He feels a hand nudge at his forearm. Definitely Delilah.
His gaze floats back over the table to offer a fraction of eye contact, he nods. "Oh, uh ... yeah. Sure, definitely."
Archie saves him by speaking again and your table finds Oliver's attention just in time for him to watch the boy sitting across from you swipe away a smudge of hot chocolate over your cheek. You smile, looking bashful and a little bit flushed.
A suffocating, searing heat rushes from the soles of Oliver's feet up between his every organ and over every tendril of hair on his head. His jaw tightens.
Of course he recognises the pratt across you.
Ryo Yoshida.
Every girl in the castle's wet dream, if the rumours he's heard are anything to go by. With his fucking sleek black hair and his Japanese accent that had witches flocking to him in the dozens.
He doesn't wonder why you're here with him.
Oliver is a proud man, but even he could admit that you're beautiful. Albeit reluctantly.
With your wide wet eyes that make him a little sick in a way that turns his stomach warm and the way you do your hair and those fucking dangly earrings that clink when you loose your cool on him.
That's without even mentioning the sound of your laugh - the one he only ever overhears - and your legs in the school uniform skirt and the way you look when you're diving on your broom under the light of a sunny day.
Alright, maybe he couldn't admit to all of it ... but you were okay.
Okay enough to crack a date with Ryo Yoshida or any other schmuck in the castle if you wanted.
"Anything good to eat here, Oliver?"
He pretends he doesn't hear her at first, but the kick at his shin under the table is harder to ignore.
Archie is glaring at him across the table. Dude, don't fuck this up for me.
Oliver's eyes find Delilah. She's scooted up close under his elbow and, to be fair to the poor girl, she was pretty too. Red lipstick smeared across her smiling lips, painted nails edging closer to his arm and perfectly styled hair sitting over her shoulder.
He nods, reaching for the menu: "Yeah. Actually, last time I had the Merlin Meal and it was pretty good."
She perks up, cherry red smile widening at his reply. "Oh, I thought that looked good!"
Training his eyes on the menu, Oliver wills himself not to look back at you. You're already souring his mood and you haven't even said a bloody word.
It's just what you do. What you do to him: infuriating him with the threat of an argument around any and every corner.
The waiter comes by and Oliver finds himself generous enough to gift Delilah with an arm draped over the back of her seat. She giggles and he pretends he doesn't notice when she mouths something that looked suspiciously like 'he's so hot' to her sister across the table.
Archie seems pleased too. Daisy has granted him, finally, her hand and his arm bends at an awkward angle to maintain the grip in hers under the table. He's positively beaming.
But despite Oliverâs best efforts to stay engaged, he still catches himself - only when it's too late - and his eyes are already glued to watching the way your jeans are hugging your thighs where you shift in your seat.
Your table is sat by the door. The chime of the bell calls for his gaze every time it tolls and every time he finds you let off a violent shiver in your seat as the autumn crisp rolls over your shoulders.
The door shuts again and you still.
Oliver can feel where the tips of his ears are burning red and his bones are itching: Ryoâs black suede coat is hanging over the back of his chair.
Youâre still talking - hands rubbing together, fighting for warmth - heâs leaned over with his chin in palm to listen and his jacket sits unused behind his shoulders while you fucking shiver in the breeze.
Itâs pathetic, really. Heâs not sure whether heâs referring to himself or you: but Oliver is still looking and youâre still shaking like a leaf and heâs halfway to flipping tables to get to you and just give you his own fucking coat so youâll stop shaking and stop annoying himâ
âOliver was just telling me about wanting to join the Hogwarts Choir.â He turns again to find Archie waiting with an expectant face, it's laced in a little bit of smugness: caught you. "Weren't you, mate?"
When he looks back youâre gone.
There's a short pile of sickles abandoned on the table and he hopes that Ryo at least had the good sense to pay for your drink after forcing you to sit in the freezing cold.
He shakes the thought off. Who cares.
In fact, he hopes you catch a cold.
-
The day passes like swimming through molasses: slow and sticky and exhausting.
It's nearly seven when Oliver presses a sympathy kiss into Delilah's cheek - Daisy allows for no such thing from Archie - and the two sisters skip off down the west wing corridor with a wiggle of their fingers over their shoulders at the boys.
"I think that went well." Archie's grinning, hands on his hip and glasses edging down his brown nose.
It's the first thing that genuinely brings a jolt of life out of Oliver all day. He teeters back on his heels, hands gripping his stomach where he laughs. Laughs like a madman.
"I think you need to get yer fucking head checked, mate."
The tail end of his outburst is simmering down, now barely a breathy chuckle, when a voice washes over him from down the other end of the corridor. "Wood!"
He'd recognise that voice anywhere. From the dead of sleep or the depth of the ocean.
He's slow when he turns on his heel, the remnants of his smile dripping all the way off the edge of his jaw until he's nearly frowning.
You're jogging, scarf bouncing at your shoulder with the movement, and coming to a stop right under his chin.
"What?"
There's a sharp edge to his tone - there always is - but he really hopes you haven't noticed how the syllable wobbled at the end. Now that you're right beneath his frame and not across the room, it's harder to ignore the lashes kissing at the corner of your eyes. You're wearing lip gloss and he knows it's for Ryo.
His stomach is churning and your face is twisting into something he is struggling to recognise.
"I--" your hands wring, eyes flickering behind to where Archie's watching curiously (you wave awkwardly). "You ... you can have Wednesday."
It's not what Oliver is anticipating. He almost takes a full step back in surprise.
"Why?"
Your eyes roll in a comfortably familiar way, "Because Hooch wants an answer tonight and one of us had to be the bigger person."
His brow tightens, eyes roving down the stitching of your sweater. It's cute. He's quiet.
"You not gonna argue?" You throw your words quickly, snatching them back before he can answer: "Perfect. I'll send her an owl before bed."
You're marching back down the corridor before he has chance to say anything else and he's watching your retreating figure with the hope - that heâs not gonna address - youâre not going to cozy up somewhere in the Slytherin dorm room.
âWell.â Archieâs running a hand over his thick black curls. âThat was unexpected.â
Oliver huffs. âItâs been a weird day.â
-
An uneasy air has settled over Hogwarts.
It came in like a storm front, drifting in on the wind that dropped the article at the door of the castle.Â
The same copy of The Daily Prophet has been doing the rounds between dormitories and class rooms all week:Â Sirius Black, Azkabanâs most infamous prisoner and recent escapee, has been sighted in Dufftown by an astute Muggle, The Daily Prophet reports.Â
Dufftown. A barely twenty minute ride by carriage from Hogwarts bridge.Â
Itâs got the castle on edge, itâs got you on edge. Creeping around the castle like Sirius Black is gonna jump out from around any corner.Â
Dumbledore stationing dementors at the edges of the castle was the tipping point for the cold drip of trickling fear in your chest that's become easy to ignore in daylight - when Cherry and Enzo are flittering around you between classes - but in moments like these, like now, when youâre on the tail end of a quidditch practice, grow like a poisonous black vine up around every nerve in your body. A Monday night, the teamâs kit weighing heavy in your arms - broomstick tucked precariously in the bend of one elbow - and following the siren call of the dormitory showers.Â
Youâd promised the team youâd get them to the house elves before the upcoming match on Saturday. The match against Gryffindor.Â
But for tonight, theyâre gonna live in a pile at the end of your bed.Â
Youâre exhausted: calves burning, sweat sticking loose hairs to your forehead and probably smelling like wet socks and broomstick polish.Â
The touch of night is suffocating the flicker of the corridor lamps. Itâs long past the recently set curfew and you know that if McGonagall finds you out youâre likely in deep enough trouble to get you off Saturdayâs match roster.Â
Despite the prospect, you donât dwell on it. You find youâre more worried about escaped Azkaban convicts: the echo of your own footsteps setting you further on edge.Â
Youâve craned your neck over your shoulder enough times to form a knot there. Each time youâre relieved to find that Sirius Black hasnât crept up behind you.Â
Suddenly, the squeak of your boots against the stone floor are un-alone.Â
Someone is marching and right in your direction. Your heart bangs wildly on the inside of your ribcage - blood turning to an icy slurry in your veins, but you donât move.Â
The corner is sharp when the figure turns into the corridor you stand and the scream is halfway out your throat when your eyes find his face.Â
Absent is the matted black hair and sunken eyes youâre anticipating. Instead, warm brown rings reflect the fire of the lit torches.Â
Your broomstick clutters to the floor, warm relief flooding down to your fingertips. âFucking hell, Wood.âÂ
He looks just as surprised as you. Only for a moment, though, before his gaze is tightening in annoyance again.Â
âI thought you were Sirius Black.âÂ
âWell thatâs stupid isnât it.âÂ
You huff, shifting the weight of the teamâs robes precariously between your arms: squatting to try scoop up your broomstick off the floor again. Youâre halfway successful when it clatters loudly back against the stone floor.Â
âWhat are you even doinâ out here so late? You know curfew is passed, donât you?â His voice curls with something that might be mistaken for concern if you didnât know who you were talking to.Â
âI could ask you the same thing.âÂ
Youâre reaching down again. A robe on the top of the pile slips off, landing beside the broomstick.Â
âAye right. Whatever, goodnight.âÂ
Heâs brushing past you.Â
In a movement neither of you anticipated, driven by the fear shooting up your spine again, your hand finds his wrist. âWaitââÂ
Oliver freezes: eyes dropping to where youâre connected. You rip your hand back, as if scalded.Â
âI âŚâ the words mash and wrestle at the back of your throat. âCould âŚâ
You glance down the darkened corridor awaiting you in the journey back to your dorm before meeting his face again. Itâs unreadable.Â
His brow scrunches. âYes?"
"Could you want me to walk my common room?âÂ
Embarrassment sears at your cheeks. On a normal day, youâd sooner go dancing naked under the Whomping Willow before asking Oliver Wood a favour but that was before the image of Sirius Black swum behind your eyes everywhere you looked.Â
Oliver would be fairly useless if faced with the criminal, naturally, but at least you wouldnât die alone.Â
âPlease?â Your voice is quiet and you think itâs the gentlest word youâve ever said to him.Â
Thereâs a long stretch of quiet. His eyes flicker between your face and the broomstick on the floor. Itâs quickly stretching past the blurring boundaries of an appropriate time for consideration.Â
Youâre practically melting in embarrassment now, electing to make the decision for him.Â
âNever mind.â You squat again, successful this time in sticking the broomstick back under your arm. The dropped robe is more difficult but you manage to replace it. âForget I asked.âÂ
Oliverâs moving before youâre stood straight up again. Heâs reaching for your broomstick, you instinctively yank it back but he sticks you with a firm look and his thumb is unexpectedly soft where it caresses over your knuckle wrapped around the handle.Â
Your grip loosens and he perches the broomstick over his shoulder with ease. He surprises you again by taking half the load of laundry in your arms into his own.Â
âCâmon, before someone catches us out here. Iâm not doing any more detention because of you.âÂ
Heâs already three feet ahead when blood rushes down to your legs, prompting them to chase after his figure. The movement is easier, lightened by Oliverâs surprise act of kindness.Â
You fall into step beside him, half-tempted to comment on his willingness to share your burden, but knowing him, one wrong word and heâd dump it all back into your arms.Â
Itâs quiet.Â
You donât make a move to talk and Oliver doesnât look your way. It dawns on you that Gryffindor dormitory is in the other direction and youâre still deciding whether to feel guilty or flattered over the fact when Oliver speaks.Â
âWhyâre you out here alone?âÂ
You look, met with the side of his face: itâs still like he hadnât said anything at all. Thereâs a tugging instinct to snap at him.Â
Why do you care?Â
But his tone is perceptibly gentle enough that you think maybe, just this once, it wonât end in an argument. You test the tepid waters.Â
âUh âŚâ your head knocks sideways, tilted as you speak. âI let the team come up early while I sorted the quaffles in the sports closet by the pitch. Didnât want them walking up in the dark.âÂ
Youâre tempted to mention that it was his team last week that left it in such a mess. You donât.Â
"And now youâre walking in the dark yourself? Smart move, princess."
Your breath hitches.Â
Itâs not the first time heâs called you that. Princess. A couple times over the years, usually in the heat of a spiraling argument, but never so benign. While still ungentle, the tone is soft enough that it rings in your ears.
You choose not to succumb to the antagonization of his reply. Humming, you shrug. "Rather me than them."
His eyes flicker, almost barely, to the high apple of your cheek. You notice in the corner of your eye how his jaw twitches, like he wants to say something.Â
He seemingly decides otherwise because he focuses his eyes ahead of him and stays silent.Â
The overhanging ceiling art is sloping down, air going sticky with the scents of the kitchen the further you go: itâs the trademark of the approaching Hufflepuff common room.Â
Another two turns and it will be the end of your little journey with Oliver Wood.
"âM surprised Ryo didnât walk you up."
You're more surprised than you've been since finding him, eyes widening in confusion. He grants you another look out the side of his eye.
"How do you know about that?"
Oliver shrugs, shifting your broomstick to the other shoulder.
"The whole world saw your little date down at Madam Puddifoot's the other day."
Of course. Word travels faster through seventh year than a new Firebolt.
"Yeah. Well." You hum. "That's not gonna be happening again anytime soon.âÂ
It had all been good and well. The rush of having Ryo Yoshida, Hogwart's most eligible bachelor, ask you out and - to be fair - the date had been fine. Ryo was funny and made good conversation but nothing near thrilling enough to daydream over and you'd allowed yourself to brush over a couple red flags because of it, until Cherry came bursting into your dormitory less than a day after your date relaying how he'd caught her between classes to ask her out to the same spot.
"Why's that?"
You're confused now, why Oliver cares or how he'd become curious enough to actually ask. You're even more confused as to why you decide to answer him. You shrug, "He asked Cherry out the very next day. She said no, obviously, but that was enough to let the whole thing go."
You expect him to say something malicious, quip something spiteful about What you did you think would happen? You're nowhere near in his league.
He doesn't.
"He's an idiot."
Not for the first time in the last five minutes, you're not sure what to say. You think this is the longest a conversation has gone without an argument. You sigh, "Yeah."
The stack-up of barrels comes into view. You dig into you the deep pocket on the inside of your robe, emerging with your wand.
Oliver stops, eyes flickering between the barrels and his shining black boots.
You step ahead, tapping the barrels in the rhythm that's become second-nature and the entryway opens.
Turning to him, you offer out an arm and he sets the robes back into your hands. The awkwardness is stifling. He leans forward, tucking the broomstick under your arm, hand wavering to make sure it doesn't fall again. The gesture makes the hold in your knees wobbly.
He nods. "Right. Goodnight."
You nod back, so quickly that you hear your earrings jingle. "Yeah, g'night."
Oliver turns, marching back the way you came and you watch him: biting your bottom lip so hard you're half expecting to draw blood.
"Thank you!" It leaps from your mouth before you have you moment to let it marinate on your tongue. You wince immediately.
He pauses, turning halfway on his heel. He smiles, it's not wide enough for teeth, but definitely wide enough to have your heart falling through your stomach. He nods again and then he's gone.
-
Saturday arrives gloomy and dripping.
It makes for good quidditch conditions, but the chill in the air is still hard to ignore when you step out into mushy grass under stadium lights. The roar of the crowd nearly deafens you, but it'll only take a couple minutes in the air for it to burn down to a soft hum.
In the middle of the stadium floor: Hooch is standing with a whistle to her lips, her figure blurred by the drizzle. Oliver stands beside her, and behind you, your team is clambering onto their brooms and rising into the air with the freshly washed kit over their backs.
You go to walk, but the icy glance Oliver is sending your way convinces you into a jog. He's always impatient before a game, itchy, antsy.
"On time as usual." Hooch hums when you land beside her.
"Got the whole bloody school waiting on her." Oliver mutters but Hooch shrugs him off, pulling the game coin out from inside her robes.
"Perfect." She positions it so we can see, "Gryffindor?"
Oliver straightens out, chest swelling: "Heads."
Hooch nods and before you can suck in another breath, the coin is in the air. She catches it with a skilled hand, flipping and revealing it to the set of captains.
"Hufflepuff, first ball!" She shouts loud enough that the floating players can hear. They nod, some groaning.
The coach turns back on the captains, "I want a fair game kids, no fighting."
"Me and Ollie? Fight?" You smile, "Never, coach."
Oliver rolls his eyes. "Yes, coach."
Suddenly you're above the pitch, sucking in breaths of wet air and struck with that familiar feeling like you could conquer the world on just your broomstick.
The quaffle flies and you stoop to catch it, twisting around Alicia Spinnet to snatch the ball before she's even noticed you're there.
Rain pelts on heads and the game goes on.
Oliver is shouting like a madman from his place in front of the goals behind you - youâve long learnt to drown it out. He does it half to annoy his own team and half to distract yours.Â
You're spinning, flying, swooping and - as you predicted - the crowd has become a distant call, a blurring sight of yellow and red.
An hour passes and the game is already halfway into the next when there's a rise in the crowd. It's not the normal yells and whoops and hollers, but you still don't look up: you're calling over to Jane and Wyatt, your beaters.
âGet between the twins, and stay there!âÂ
Below, Harry Potter and your own seeker, Cedric Diggory, are flying in circles around each other. The call of Cedric's name is on the tip of your tongue when thereâs another ripple of sound off the crowd and this one draws your eyes. Itâs there for a second before you find the army of figures descending on the pitch.Â
Your breath catches in your throat, freezing solid so you canât swallow.Â
The dementors are even more ghostly this close. You'd never seen so many.
A darkness is permeating the air, the sight of the supporters in the stand dissipating into black. Theyâre floating in from every corner, drifting at a pace thatâs too fast for you to make a move in any direction.Â
Thereâs a scream and your gaze finds the body falling through the sky: itâs Harry.
The ground is racing up to meet him and adrenaline drives your hand to tip your broom, to chase after his quickly disappearing shape when a blurry figure blocks your way.Â
Someone yells your name but you donât hear it.Â
Youâd never imagined examining a dementor, much less this up close, but even if you had: nothing your imagination could conjure up would ever come close to the harrowing darkness of its empty eye-sockets.Â
Its silhouette spreads over every corner of your vision, black like night and blocking the view of the sky. Your nose is so close you could tip forward and meet it's silken cloak.
A cold washes over your body like you've never felt, like you're freezing over: ice creeping up your fingertips, shoulders and face.
Your brain looses all grip on thought, replaced with a seeping dread. It barely acknowledges where a scabbed, decomposing hand is reaching out to you.
Charcoal fingertips brush your cheek when you're tugged back, all the way off your broomstick.
There's not even a last coherent thought to panic when you're engulfed in a warm chest, a hand stabilising around your waist onto a new broomstick. It dips and the green grass is reaching up to you.
The new heat engulfs you through to your bones. You grasp blindly for the expanse of a thick veined neck, wrapping yourself around him.
Digging your face into his shoulder, it takes one glance at the scarlet robes to know who it is. Oliver's panting, one hand holding you against him while the other steers the broomstick down to the floor.
You're trembling, no thought occupying any space beyond Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver--
"What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
The voice is distant, said against your temple but echoing as if from the end of a long corridor. You don't register where hot tears are wetting your cheeks, erupting over your face without being called.
His words prompt you closer: a tight arm furling over his shoulders and wrapping around him like a vine around an old tree.
"O-Oliver ..."
The hand over your waist tightens. "Sh ... it's fine. You're fine."
The broomstick lands shakily, Oliver's boots squelching into muddy grass. You barely realise you're back on ground when another hand is tugging you off, but you cling tighter to the sweaty red neck: shaking your wet face against his well-pressed robes.
"C'mon, princess ..." His calloused hands pry you from him, gently like you're a piece of china sitting on the very edge of a high shelf. "It's Pomfrey, she's gonna look after you."
You think you feel a kiss press into your hairline before you're being scooped up into a new set of arms. Madam Pomfrey is warm too, smelling like antiseptic and maple syrup.
There's another swell of noise erupting from the supporters above and you're being lead away.
Oliver watches your figure, slumped against the school nurse until you've disappeared into the medical tent.
His heart is going wild, slamming against the walls of his ribcage. Beside him his hands are shaking and he's sucking in thick gulps of air, he finds it still isn't enough oxygen.
There's another splatter where Angelina has landed a few feet behind him. She's panting too, tugging on the edge of his robes and pointing up into the sky.
"Wood!" She's frantic, "They won, Cedric caught the snitch!"
His mouth is dry when he swallows. Rain catches in his eye when he looks up, half the Hufflepuff team is no longer in the sky and the Gryffindors are all on their way down.
"I ..." feeling is returning to his fingertips, "is ... where's Harry?"
Angelina points in the direction of the medical tent. Above, the pitch is engulfed in a bright white light and Oliver catches the wispy end of a shining phoenix chasing between disappearing Dementors. It's a patronus. Dumbledore's, Oliver figures somewhere in his muddy brain.
"Is everyone else okay?"
Angelina nods. Her eyes flicker to the medical tent then back at him. "Is she?"
The image returns to him: the mass of darkness engulfing your figure in the sky. The terror that ripped through him like he was being torn apart from the inside, the whistle of the wind that stung over his ears and how it blocked out his mutterings of please, please, please--
He shakes his head. "She's too tough for her own good. She'll ... she'll be fine."
But it comes out like he's trying to convince himself more than Angelina.
-
Oliver doesn't see you for a few days.
Two, to be exact, and his skin itches the entire time. A deep itch, like it's coming from his bones.
It's only on Monday evening at dinner, with the Hufflepuff table whooping, that you come strolling back into the light of his eyes.
Your head is down, flushed with all the attention, and when you sit, kids are rising from their seats to tackle you into side hugs. He can tell you're embarrassed but he can't gather himself enough to care: the warm rush of relief flooding his stomach so much so that if he dared open his mouth it would all come rushing out.
You look fine. All limbs attached and smiling, it settles him.
He doesn't snap at Archie when he knocks his shoulder with a "you're staring" and his dinner suddenly looks more appetising when he peels his eyes off your figure down to his plate. He finds that he doesn't care as much as he usually does where Enzo's lanky arm is strung over your shoulder.
The week passes in a flurry.
While you share several classes, Oliver doesn't share a single word with you. It's hard not to notice that you're working very hard not to interact with him.
In Muggle Studies, you arrive late and keep your nose tucked deep into the pages of a textbook he knows you couldn't care less about. You're up and out of the classroom before he's even zipped up his bag. It's the same in Potions and Arithmacy.
While going days without talking to each other is not unusual, this time he can tell itâs on purpose. He pretends that he doesn't care.
The rain has cleared and when Friday arrives the sunset is red and orange and purple, granting Oliver with a rare enchanting view out his bedroom window where it's setting behind the East tower.
It's in this quiet, peaceful moment that Archie comes bouncing in with some news of a party happening in the Ravenclaw dormitory.
He's indifferent but Archie is nothing if not convincing.
"Come on, dude. You're literally a hermit crab." He sighs, falling back against his own poster bed across Oliver's. "There will be girls."
"There's girls everywhere, Arch."
His eyebrows wiggle, "And alcohol."
It takes a bit more pestering and the Weasley twins rushing in after him with the same news (and a far less patient approach) to get him up off his bed.
He digs in his cupboard for the last pair of clean jeans and a somewhat suitable purple jumper, tugging them on with a grumble, before he's being dragged by both arms - a twin on each side - across the castle to the West tower wherein resides the Ravenclaw population.
The common room is bustling with seventh years, he recognises them from all houses, and a table set up to the side with some trays of food. He's barely made himself comfortable when Katie Bell is shoving a red solo cup into his hand:
"It's Angelina's brew." She informs him.
He can believe that. The liquid is strong, burning down his throat followed by the barely there after-taste of pumpkin juice. Oliver downs the whole thing in one go.
The music swells louder and he's three cups of Angelina's concoction deep when you come tumbling through the entrance portal.
You're drunk yourself, he can tell by the way you're giggling and half leaning on Cherry Stretton. Bumping through people, not passing without leaning back to apologise to them tipsily, you head straight into the arms of Angelina and Alicia Spinnet. They smile in surprise, engulfing you in their arms.
Despite his and your long-held rivalry, it had done nothing to stop the rest of his team from sweetening up to you. The twins called you their favourite yellow tie at regular intervals and the girls found you nothing less than endearing. Oliver could lie and say he hated it.
Instead, he wrestles his way to where Katie is situated with more to drink, filling his cup and downing it.
-
The room is twisting in a flurry of colours and faces and it's the lightest you've felt in almost a week. You giggle against Enzo, his dreads tucked safely back in a bun while Cedric sets a Dragon-Barrel Brandy shot on fire and hands it carefully over.
Enzo's head knocks back, slipping the burning liquid down his throat with a wince. There's a cheer at his accomplishment, and suddenly Cedric's knocking your elbow: "you're next, Cap!"
After the match-gone-wrong, Madam Pomfrey had held you down in the infirmary until Monday morning. You were fed copious amounts of chocolate - in the form of bars and drinks and cakes and ice creams. By Saturday night you were - surely a couple kilograms heavier - and feeling fine, but Pomfrey was nothing if not paranoid:
"That was no light ordeal you went through, dear. I'm not letting you out of my sight until I'm happy with you."
In all honesty, you'd prefer if the whole school forgot it ever happened.
If Pomfrey didn't fret and your friends didn't come by every meal time and your team stopped sending you get better! letters and nobody mentioned it ever again.
More than anyone, you wished Oliver would forget. The ordeal, or maybe just you as a person.
You'd made a stupid decision under the heat of stadium lights and the influence of racing adrenaline, trying to chase for Harry, and he'd made a stupider decision coming to save you from yourself.
When it got quiet in the infirmary past dusk and Harry's shadowy figure was long since snoring in the bed across yours, you could feel Oliver's touch. Could feel it's strong hold wrapped around your waist and the voice against you the back of your neck and the lips at your temple.
You never reminisced long: for with his touch came the writhing, scalding fear burrowing a hole in your chest.
He could tease you, he will tease you.
Oliver had saved you from the clutches of a dementor moments from your soul being sucked out your body and you'd cried in his chest the whole time, refused to let him go in front of the whole school. It was a mortification you would never live down. And if Oliver decided he was going to use it against you, even once, you were sure you'd melt into the floor in shame.
It's what's made the Firewhiskey and Lemon squash concoction Cherry had handed you back in her room so easy to toss back. It stung and steam rose out your mouth where you'd panted for air. There was another ... and another, they went down the same.
The walk across the castle to reach the Ravenclaw Tower had been wobbly and you'd laughed with your friends loud enough to wake up the whole castle you're sure, but it dissolved the fear that clung to your bones. The fear that he was here, lingering between the people in the crowded blue common room.
Now the liquor is fading. Numbing to a dull buzz and you decline Cedric's offer at a burning shot, thinking about how proud you'll be of yourself when you wake up tomorrow morning in bed rather than wrapped around a toilet seat and hauling up guts into the bowl.
The party, not unlike yourself, is dimming.
Students are crawling away into all corners, each with their own excuse. I have a potions essay to do or No, dude, I'm too drunk for this or Flint wants us down at the pitch for drills at eight tomorrow morning, I gotta head to bed.
The crowd, though thinning, is beginning to clump into respective circles across the room. You glance annoyed at the fireplace where the flames crack merrily. Even with your short skirt and thin satin top, the heat of the common room is stifling.
Enzo is on his fourth burning shot, it's lost it's appeal to the crowd but he seems undeterred, knocking Cedric in the shoulder with the empty shot glass motioning: another! You yawn, playing mindlessly with the ruffled sleeve of your shirt.
"Oh no," A harsh tug at your hand draws you from the lure of sleep that's fogging your mind. "The night is young, no yawning!"
Cherry has your wrist in her grip, Enzo's in the other. He blinks blearily down at his friends.
"Huh?"
"Come on," Cherry's brown eyes roll far back in her head. "Fred says they're starting Seven Minutes In Heaven. Let's go join--"
"Seven minutes--?" you laugh between words, "Cher, are you mad?"
She whines, pouting like a kicked dog. "It'll be fun. Besides, when last did you have a good fucking snog? Too long, I say!"
Somehow, you're not only convinced across the room into a spot onto the floor in a circle of a couple others, but a drink has ended up in your hand and its contents quickly down your gullet.
For the nerves, you assure yourself.
Before you know it, Angelina - who's conveniently settled beside you - is topping up your plastic cup with a nearly empty bottle of Daisyroot Draught. "This is the good stuff. Katie stashed it in, her sister works at a brewery."
You smile nervously, nod, and take a tentative sip. The pre-existing buzz in your head convinces you it's not so bad.
In the circle is a couple Gryffindors you recognise, some giggling Slytherin girls, a Ravenclaw you can't name and three members of your quidditch team. There's an open spot on the side you don't take note of.
That is until Archie Kumar is steering a grumpy, visibly drunk Oliver Wood into the open place and collapsing beside him.
Your breath catches in your throat, heart sinking into your stomach like a stone. You're halfway off the floor, suddenly desperate for the loo, when Cherry - on your left side - drags you back down to the floor.
Maybe it's Katie's sister's brew, but you tumble too easily back onto your bum.
"Relax. Just don't look at him, okay?"
You suck in another breath, eyes trained on the white moon outline sewn into the rug. "Yeah ... okay."
It doesn't hold long and when you find the Gryffindor captain again, his gaze is trained on your face. It's stone cold. You gasp quietly and look away.
"Right!" George Weasley is on his feet, setting an empty Firewhisky bottle into the centre. "Who's first?"
Alicia shuffles forward on her knees, the first of the group to move, and the bottle goes spinning. It lands on the Ravenclaw boy. He grins and she does too: Fred wolf-whistles when they stand.
The "heaven" in question is a tall oak cabinet leaning against the back wall of the common room. The pair disappear into its depths and conversation rises again as the circle waits.
You sip your drink in large gulps, trying to hold conversation with Angelina against Oliver's hot gaze that's burning a hole through the side of your face. It's difficult: the Gryffindor girl is so drunk that she's talking with her eyes closed.
Seven minutes later, there's a chorus of "time's up!", Alicia and the boy emerge another ten seconds later. They're rearranging their clothes and Alicia is as scarlet as her quidditch robes. The boy is grinning like the cat who caught the canary. You're suddenly struck with the violent urge to throw up.
The game goes on like that, round after round. Lee Jordan and Jane Emmet (your beater), Katie and Wyatt (your other beater), Cherry and a pretty Slytherin girl you don't know - she's especially chuffed when she returns, red lipstick smeared over her chin.
You're working very hard not to look at Oliver, much less think about him, but it's proving difficult. Every time the bottle takes its spin, your stomach churns.
It had occurred to you during the time that Alicia and that boy were in the closet that there was a very real chance that Oliver could be called up when one of those pretty Slytherins take their turn at the bottle. The thought had made you down the last of your drink and immediately want to vomit it all back up into your cup.
The image of their slender arms curling around his criminally wide-set shoulders, Oliver pushing them back against the inside wall of the grand closet. Would he make noise? Would he sigh or groan against their lips or whisper something about how beautiful they looked tonight in their ears--
"Ollie, you're up mate."
You can't remember who said it, but the words stripped your gaze off Angelina and straight into the pooling brown eyes you'd been avoiding all week long.
He sighed, grumbling under his breath and only with a less-than-gentle nudge from Archie, did he lean up on thighs that flexed unfairly -- bloody hell, stop it! -- and wrap his hand over the neck of the bottle: it went spinning.
The only sound you could hear was the twist of the glass against the woven rug and the hum of your own blood rushing past your ears. It stopped.
"No fucking ways." Enzo cracked from two people down.
A hand landed on your shoulder, shaking you half off your arse: Angelina. "You're up, babe! Go!"
The bottle was pointing irrefutably at your little spot in the circle.
Oliver's face was as white as you'd ever seen it when you dared look up.
"I-I'm not going in with him--" It was the first thing that came to your mind and went spluttering out your mouth.
George was laughing so hard that he'd fallen all the way onto his back. The roar of the group was ear-splitting.
"There's no ways I'm going in with her!"
"Let's end this feud once and for all," Katie bellowed over their heads. "Captain versus captain!"
You're being knocked from all sides, hands crawling under your arms and lifting you off the floor. Across the circle, Oliver is experiencing the same and before you know it: the wooden doors of the cabinet are creaking open.
"Go on!" Lee's finger is piercing your side.
Oliver is beside you but you won't look. You take one last look over your shoulder at Cherry back on the floor, she does nothing but offer a sympathetic shrug and mouths "sorry, dear".
Your hand reaches before Oliver's, flinging the door open with maybe a little too much force. It bangs against the wall behind it.
"Let's get this over with." You mumble, only half concerned that he heard you.
You slouch climbing in, the top is low and the space is even more cramped than what you assumed. To your surprise, Oliver is stepping in after you. He takes his turn at slamming the door, shutting it this time.
It's dark inside, but not enough that you can't see. Light is peaking in through the cracks and he's leaned back against the opposite wall to you.
In the narrow space, your legs are twisting around each other to stand: his one knee situated between yours. In the dimness, he folds his arms and you notice for the first time the jumper he's wearing. The purple one, you recognise it as the one he's had for years. Time has taken its toll where the jumper is clinging to life around his frame, Oliver having grown at least three times wider while the jumper has remained the same size.
"Go on, Wood, give her a kiss!"
The voice is unrecognisable but it knocks your tongue back into your mouth where you'd been ogling at his torso.
His arms are folded, proffering you with a glare that could cut through steel. He makes no visible sign that he'd heard the shout at all. You mirror him, folding your own arms.
"I'm not kissing you."
His head cocks. "Oh, so you're talking to me now?"
You suck in a sharp breath. It's not the response you're anticipating. "What?"
"So we're playing dumb?" He leans just a fraction closer. You can smell the linger of alcohol on his breath, but it doesn't work hard enough to drown out the smell of peppermint that follows him around. "Doesn't suit you, princess."
"I'm not playing anything. I don't know what you're talking about." You double down. It's probably not sustainable but the heat of his body almost against yours and the thrum of liquor in your blood makes the decision for you.
"Y've been avoiding me all week."
"I haven't"
"You're a bad liar."
You swallow hard. Embarrassment is rising again, making your head spin. Oliver's chest is puffed up in anger, you can tell because you've had five years to learn the look like the back of your hand. Except, now - as it has been for a longer time than you care to admit - it's harder to focus on the waves of fury reflecting off of him when his face is just so ... beautiful. Nose scrunched and lips pulled tight into a grimace.
It's what makes you change tactics, you think.
"So what if I was? Why does it matter?"
His arms unfold, eyes rolling so far that his head knocks back against the wood of the cupboard.
"Why?" you press, "Did you miss me, Wood?"
"Maybe I did."
He's looking at you again. For what feels like the hundredth time just tonight, your breath escapes you in a rush and your lungs struggle to grasp back at it. Your face softens without meaning to.
You blink at him.
"You did?" It's a whisper.
His arms are still folded but something clement passes like a shadow over his features.
"No."
His face betrays his words, eyes soft and lip daring to curl up at the edge.
The air in the tight space goes cold. Or maybe it's your blood. It's more likely the look on Oliver's face: like he hasn't just turned your organs to slush. You're all the way sober now.
"I'm not kissing you." You repeat dumbly, but it's gentle.
Merlin, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.
"You mentioned." He's almost, almost, smiling. It's gentle too.
The space between you falls quiet. You're suddenly overly focused on the brush of his knee between yours. His swirling brown eyes catch on the split of light creeping in past the hinge on the door.
It stays like that until your voice creeps nervously out. "I was embarrassed. Am, I am embarrassed."
A thick brow tightens in confusion. "Why?"
You huff, almost annoyed. Your eyes train on a dark spot by your intertwined feet. "Come on, Wood."
"What, about the match?" The alcohol thickens his accent.
Your silence seems to answer his question. The apples of your cheeks are warming again.
"What was I supposed to do, leave you to have you bloody soul sucked out yer body?" His voice is rising, "No, princess, I'm not apologising for that."
It's an outpour that you're not expecting. Oliver's clearly in the mood to shock and surprise tonight.
Your lips tighten around the words that are all fighting for the spot at the tip of your tongue. Silence reigns while they argue, he's still watching you with exasperation set into the lines of his face.
"Princess." You settle.
His expression twists again. "What?"
"You always call me that. Why?" It's a question that you buried long ago. But his proximity, in conjunction with the night you've had, unearths it.
It's his turn to look surprised. He grumbles some indiscernable Scottish blabber before-- "It's because y'are a princess. Spoilt and bratty. Always gets her way."
There's no malice to his response, you find. It draws a chuckle from the depths of your chest.
"Aye, right." You mimic his accent and his quip, one he's used many times at you.
He laughs. It's not a sound you hear often and it's setting your whole nervous system alight like a tangled bunch of christmas lights. His whole body's shaking with it, head resting back against the wood again, and you really do think you might grab him and kiss him -- when the door flies open again: seeping his whole body in yellow light.
Alicia's standing at the opening, grin wide as night is wide and clearly expectant on catching you with your tongues down each other's throats.
If she'd given you another three seconds she just might have.
"Oh." She slumps in disappointment, looking back over her shoulder and shaking her head to the expectant crowd. They groan collectively. "Well, love birds, your time is up."
You'd almost forgotten where you were. Oliver clears his throat, the ghost of his laugh impossible to find on his face, and clambers over your legs out into the common room again. He doesn't pass without brushing his hand over yours.
-
It's nearly three in the morning when Enzo finally lets up.
His long legs are sprawled across the midnight blue couch in the middle of the common room. Fiona, a lovely Ravenclaw girl you'd met just tonight, shrugs at you: "Don't stress it. He can crash here tonight."
The party is long since dead. Seven Minutes In Heaven had looped another three rounds before everyone had gotten their chance in the dusty cupboard and began to grumble in boredom.
You'd avoided Oliver's eyes the whole time again, sure that if you looked he'd be able to read the fondness on your face.
It wasn't long after that the last of the students dissolved in the direction of their respective bedrooms. With your dear friend in good hands with the Ravenclaws, you loop your arm with Cherry - knocking against her side towards the portal.
You've barely pushed it ajar when she breaks off you, "Hold on, I need to get my Transfig notes from Jacob!"
"Cher, it's three in the morning?"
Alcohol is directing her legs in the opposite direction clumsily, "I'll wake him. If I fail another quiz, Mcgee's gonna have my arse."
She's gone before she catches your call: "I'll find you outside!"
The portal creaks where you shove it open again. The corridor is dimly lit and colder than the common room and a shiver chases up your exposed legs.
"Bloody hell." You run a hand over your forearms.
It's quiet too, and empty besides the Gryffindor captain leaning against the stone wall closest to the entrance you've just emerged from.
"Merlin," your eyes find his. "Not you again."
The flush over your cheeks is warding off the chill.
Oliver shrugs. "Me again."
An awkward silence permeates. Against better judgement, you shuffle forward, leaning against the wall beside him. He doesn't react, arms folded and staring into the inky abyss of the corridor leading out to the rest of the castle.
"Why're you out here?" You ask, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.
"Archie." He huffs out, voice wrapped in annoyance. "He's in there with Penelope. I gave him ten minutes."
Ah, Penelope Clearwater. She'd joined the game in the last round. A good thing too because Oliver's friend was looking more crestfallen as the bottle spun again and again, surpassing him each time. Penelope had taken the last turn, ending up with her hair in every direction and Archie's spectacles leaning half off his face when they emerged from the cupboard.
"You?"
The eddy of average conversation is strange, but you find you like it.
"Cherry." You hum. "Something about quiz notes."
He drops his head back against the wall.
"That what they calling it now?"
It startles you, head tilting to stare up at the side of his face with a grin: "oh, Woodâs got jokes now? I didnât know it was possible for you to make a joke."
His eyes flutter shut, a twinkle of laughter bubbling out of his frame. Tucking his head down to his chest, he shrugs against his own light chuckle. "I have them. I just donât share them with you."
You giggle back at him. "Right. Well then you better stop smiling there, someone might walk past and think weâre friends."
He shakes his head, the sound of his snicker fading but leaving behind the imprint of a smile. "Nobodyâs gonna think that."
You lean back again, eyes drifting over the low ceiling. Quiet falls again - not uncomfortable - and you let it linger for a moment. A thought tugs on a loose string in your mind, not a new one, but one youâve carefully buried over time.
It comes falling out your mouth. "You ever think about how it might be ... if things were different?"
The question grants you a look out the side of his eye. "Different?"
"Yâknow," you shrug, the very last remains of alcohol are ebbing and unsureness is replacing where it stood. "If we ⌠we hadâ"
"If you hadnât suckered me in the bloody nose?" His words are unexpectedly fond.
You laugh at him, "If you hadnât deserved to be suckered in the bloody nose."
He draws in a long breath, not answering. It prompts you.
"We could have been friends." You whisper, more to your chest than to him really.
But he hears it. "We would never be friends."
It stings sharper than it should. Your shoulders go stiff and the corners of your eyes sting inexplicably, turning the corridor blurry. A dying fire revives in your chest, blistering the cave, reminding you why Oliver Wood has been nothing but a stake in your side since you were thirteen years old.
"Of course. How stupid of me, for a minute I forgot what an absolute arsehole you are." You push off the wall, intent in going to dig out Cherry from the depths of the Ravenclaw dormitory. "Goodnight, Wood."
An arm wraps around your waist, not unlike it'd done a week ago in the air of the quidditch pitch, lurching you into him until you're pressed back against the cool stone of the corridor wall.
Oliver looms over you, crouched so that your nose bumps against his. "Don't sulk, princess."
It all happens at once: his hands grab onto the fat of your hips, digging in there like he really does hate you, and lips crash against yours like maybe he doesn't at all.
He stays there, unmoving for a second that feels a year long.
Where the inside of your brain had been buzzing with runaway threads of thought, ribbons streaking out in all directions: they disappear in a sizzling light. Oliver Wood is kissing me.
You melt against him, tipping up onto your toes and latch onto muscled shoulders. He seemingly takes that as his cue, pressing you closer against his body with his arm - lifting you half off the wall.
He tastes like the remnants of Firewhisky and pumpkin juice, the flavour setting every nerve ending in your body on fire. Lips soft but persistent while his hands grip onto you like you'd dissolve into dust if he didn't.
It's aggressive, but familiar in that way. Oliver is nothing if not hot-blooded and his touch, darting between your hips and your face is turning you tipsy again.
"If you want a friend," It's muffled when he speaks, punctuating his words with hot wet kisses, "go be friends with Ryo."
It's only in this moment, with his desperation mirroring in the glimpses of sugar brown irises you catch where he's fluttering his eyes over your face, that it dawns on you.
"Jealous much?"
He growls lowly and it makes you giggle against him, your hands slithering up into the hairs at the base of his neck. Oliver shakes his head against you, still huffing in disbelief.
"Shut up." It's accent-heavy and bleeds a hole through the bottom of your stomach. "You're such a fucking brat."
"And you're a fucking prick."
He huffs lowly, you press harder to him: solidifying the sentiment. Somehow the bickering makes it all sweeter, like you're dissolving cotton candy against your tongue where his swoops over it.
You'd just about forgotten where you were when a creak echoes down the corridor. Halfway to ignoring it in favour of Oliver's touch, your situation dawns on you in the same moment it does him.
Like you'd both licked the end of a live wire, you and Oliver jolt back a foot, hands diving to your respective sides.
Cherry is standing against the light of the common room behind her, a lanky Archie parked beside her. Their eyes are wide and Cherry's hand is against her jaw in shock.
"Oh my god." She mumbles against it.
Blood is rushing to your face and out the corner of your eye, Oliver is running a hand over the hair that's sticking in all directions from the influence of your fingers.
Cherry is laughing breathily, eyes still wide and white in surprise. "Oh my god."
Archie's eyes are flickering between you and Oliver.
"Sorry to interrupt." He says, a smirk curling onto his features.
It jumpstarts your entire system. You step forward, grabbing Cherry by the arm.
"Well," you nod at Archie and at Oliver, not daring to meet his eyes, "goodnight then."
You march with fervour, half-dragging her in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room until your figure disappears behind the next corridor.
Oliver stands with his hands hanging at his side dumbly. He swipes a finger of his bottom lip, still tasting the strawberry lip gloss you'd left there.
"Can't say I didn't see this coming, mate." A hand claps over his shoulder.
He groans, running both hands over his face, and Archie shakes him lightly.
"So ... how was it?"
With another groan, Oliver shoves Archie's hand off of him. "Bloody hell, Arch."
Archie throws his head of curly black hair back, laughing so loud it bounces off the wall. "That good, huh?"
(part two/final part)
-
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đ˛đ¨đŽđŤ đĄđ¨đ§đ¨đŤ, đĄđ'đŹ đ đŹđ˘đŚđŠ | đŚđŻ. đ
summary: an unplanned hard launch reveals more than a relationship. it exposes the biggest simp of the century.
content warning: requested by @animeandf1lover. fluff. crack adjacent (in the beginning). profanity. bestfriend!logan sargeant. boyfriend!max verstappen. humor. max yap-stappen. jimmy and sassy verstappen. my personal hc of max using cat emojis unironically. no part two requests, please!
pairing: max verstappen x hijabi fem!poc!reader (fc: shahdbatal)
genre: smau.
from, serene: other titles i thought of; simp, i love my gf, down bad, lord of the simps, or president of the simp club. haven't written for max alone in a while, i missed him !!! pls ignore the typos on the interview clips otherwise i will cry. enjoy, lovelyâs xxx
â join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents âť
instagram ⢠jimmyandsassy đ ⢠monte carlo â
liked by yninsta, maxverstappen1, logansargeant, and 123 others
jimmyandsassy love life
view comments
maxverstappen1: how are you going to caption this "love life" when there's not a single photo of me in it đ
⼠maxverstappen1: you called me the love of your life this morning on ft đ ⼠maxverstappen1: omg are you breaking up with me and taking the cats with you đđđ ⼠yninsta: max the cats chose the caption not me!!! ⼠yninsta: you're still the loml baby, i'm not going anywhere đđ ⼠danielricciardo: u guys are perfectly made for each other :)
maxverstappen1: my babies đť why did you put mommy on the last slide? she's too pretty to be there!
⼠jimmyandsassy: m prettier than mommy - sassy ⼠maxverstappen1: hey! you get your looks from your mother be nice đ ⼠charlesleclerc: max mate đ with every comment you make on this account i hope you know i think less of you with each one đđť ⼠alexandrasaintmleux: he's only saying this because i told him it would be cute to make a priv acct with leo that's like this! ⼠yninsta: you should! the kitties love it :) ⼠charlesleclerc: you're all mentally disturbed. electric chairâĄď¸đŞ
logansargeant: i have post notifications on and i have no clue how max gets here faster than me.
⼠logansargeant: jimmy? sassy? do you tell him when you're about to post đ§ ⼠maxverstappen1: logan the cats can't speak english or use a phone be serious. ⼠logansargeant: THEY DON'T HAVE OPPOSABLE THUMBS EITHER BUT THEY STILL POST AND REPLY TO COMMENTS ⼠jimmyandsassy: don't yell at daddy! 's mean - jimmy ⼠maxverstappen1: yeah logan don't yell at daddy đ ⼠logansargeant: can't believe there was a time i thought you were a respectable man smh
roscoelovecoco: cool cats đ
⼠jimmyandsassy: big dawg đś
landonorris: they're so pretty i just wanna pet them
⼠landonorris: i wished cats liked me,,, ⼠jimmyandsassy: nobody likes you! hope this helps - sassy ⼠landonorris: STOP HIDING BEHIND YOUR CATS AND COME FIGHT ME SIS đ¤Źđ¤ş
alexalbon: please don't kill me :)
⼠jimmyandsassy: why would we kill you? we like alex - jimmy ⼠oscarpiastri: oh they're so going to claw your eyes out mate đ ⼠georgerussell63: it's been nice knowing you alex đ ⼠charlesleclerc: fly high alexander đď¸đđť ⼠schecoperez: gone too soon đââď¸ âĽ jensonbutton: if she kills you, logan will have a car to race this weekend. she's so going to get rid of you đ ⼠yninsta: what. logan has his own williams? are u guys okay???
twitter ⢠yn's spam twt
igstory ⢠yninsta uploaded to close friends story!
[caption1; guess i'm bringing jimmy with me][caption2; target confirmed. bravo six going dark.]
logansargeant: please don't make my team principal disappear ⤡yninsta: i will make him suffer inshallah đđ˝ ⤡logansargeant: think about jimmy and sassy! they'll miss you đ˘ ⤡yninsta: ,,,i will subject him to a painful lecture about his mishandling of the race weekend ⤡yninsta: instead of death đ
alexalbon: are we chill? ⤡yninsta: i have no quarrel with you đđ˝ ⤡alexalbon: oh thank god. i was going crazy in my room hiding from you đŽâđ¨
maxverstappen1: come to me when you're done with james đ˝ ⤡maxverstappen1: you're surrounded by the wrong shade of blue :( ⤡maxverstappen1: how's logan doing? ⤡yninsta: he's okay considering they gave his car away. ⤡maxverstappen1: bring him with you, i will tell him exactly what i think about wiliams treating him that way
f1 twitter
FIA press conference: pre-race australia ⢠max, charles, logan, zhou, yuki
post-race interview clips ⢠max verstappen
twitter ⢠the internet reacts
instagram ⢠logansargeant ⢠melbourne â
liked by oscarpiastri, yninsta, redbullracing and 546,789 others
logansargeant me and you, and you and me, just us, and your boyfriend max.
tagged: yninsta, maxverstappen1, betterhelp
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maxverstappen1: you have me saved as âynâs boyfriend - INGORE đâđâ
⼠maxverstappen1: thatâs not very nice âšď¸ ⼠yninsta: logan! change it before you make him sad ⼠logansargeant: fine đ ⼠logansargeant: iâm going to mute him instead.
⼠yninsta: logan and max get along great guys i promise!
⼠yninsta: max asked him if he was okay with asking me out before our first date and logan said âmate you donât have to ask, i know youâll treat her rightâ đ ⼠logansargeant: that is NOT public infoâźď¸ delete pls ⼠maxverstappen1: you didnât have to say any of this schatje đ
⼠user1: max asked logan for permission to date her? what in the wattpad fanfic is happening rn ⼠georgerussell63: this is great blackmail- i mean info đ
oscarpiastri: acting like you hate max but you called me screaming in joy about playing padel with him đ
⼠logansargeant: oscar please. my reputation is at stake here đ ⼠oscarpiastri: hey instagram comments- i misspoke. logan sargeant HATES max verstappen! thatâs all, thanks. ⼠user2: dis guy đ¤Śđťââď¸ âĽ user3: osc sarcasm check: â
user4: if max verstappen offered to fly me out to hang out with his gf i would not leave his messages on read ijs đ¤ˇđź
alexalbon: DAMN he even said please đś
⼠yninsta: not too much now alex 𤍠⼠alexalbon: đ¤đł ⼠user5: alex were u silent or sileNCED ⼠user6: i could feel the threat through the screen
jensonbutton: but did you take him up on his offer? thatâs what we need to know!
⼠maxverstappen1: he did. left me on read for 6 minutes before he broke đš ⼠logansargeant: it was on his private jet, paid for, and i got to see my best friend- ofc i said yes! iâm not stupid.
user7: tagging betterhelp on the sc of maxâs desperate ass texts is NASTY work logan đđđ
⼠user8: nothing wrong with sending the homies links to therapy sites ⼠user9: thereâs definitely something wrong with how down bad max is for his girl. i know that much 𼴠⼠user10: are u srs? bc thatâs a man who doesnât play about his woman! i can tell đľâđŤđŤŚ
instagram ⢠maxverstappen1
liked by yninsta, redbullracing, danielricciardo and 2,126,989 others
maxverstappen1 championships are worth winning because i take the trophies back to her.
tagged: yninsta
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yninsta: championships are worth winning because YOU drove like crazy for them.
⼠maxverstappen1: two things can be true at the same time đ ⼠maxverstappen1: i donât know if they would matter as much if i didnât have anyone to praise me for it. ⼠yninsta: iâll convince you that they are more than that one day đđ (good thing iâm never leaving you x)
yninsta: Řب ŘŮات٠(the love of my life)
⼠maxverstappen1: no you are mine âşď¸đ¤
user11: no the fuck he didnât.
⼠user12: GIRL HE FUCKING DID
user13: nahhhh he got it. he got it all.
⼠user13: championships, monaco living, the finest woman, expensive cats and carsâLIKE LEAVE SOMETHING FOR THE COMMON FOLK MAX ⼠maxverstappen1: my bad đââď¸ âĽ user14: he donât even mean ts ⼠user15: oh iâm bout to crash out đ¤Şđ¤Źđš
charlesleclerc: okay. thatâs a good caption đ
⼠maxverstappen1: take a deep breath charlie, no need to be angy about it :) ⼠charlesleclerc: i knew youâd ruin it. iâll be seeing you max 𤍠⼠user16: yo what tf 𤣠⼠user17: did charles leclerc just ominously imply his plot for maxâs demise?! ⼠user18: bro what đ @/user17 ⼠user19: what are you gonna say next? âtheyâre going to participate in a duel of arms đ¤â ⼠user16: âa battle of fisticuffs, more likely it seems đ¤đ¤đ¤â
user20: oh my daysâ sheâs beautiful đŚ
⼠maxverstappen1: sheâs the prettiest woman iâve ever set my eyes on đ ⼠user21: donât worry max, we believe you! ⼠user22: you truly are blessed to be dating her.
danielricciardo: boys what are youâre wagers? max yaps more/less about his gf to us now that theyâre public?
⼠landonorris: more +ÂŁ500 ⼠lewishamilton: more +ÂŁ1000 ⼠logansargeant: more +(iâll match lewis in american) ⼠schecoperez: have faith in max! ⼠schecoperez: +5 grand take it or leave it.
user23: sheâs majestic! in that first photo, sheâs giving padme from star wars 𤊠beautiful!!!!
⼠yninsta: tysm âşď¸ this might be the best compliment iâve ever received !!!
instagram ⢠ynspamacct
liked by maxverstappen, lilymhe, charlesleclerc and 893,430 others
ynspamacct i won't unprivate my main, but here's the bf max content i know you all want :)
tagged: maxverstappen1
view comments
user24: max said: princess treatment only đđť
⼠maxverstappen1: ***queen treatment đ¸đ˝ ⼠user25: oh. the simp allegations are true. ⼠maxverstappen1: you doubted how much i love my gf? crazy. ⼠user25: i won't do it again, i promise.
logansargeant: why do you wear heels if you know theyâre going to make your feet hurt?
⼠maxverstappen1: bc sheâs knows iâm going to hold them for her and carry her home đ ⼠ynspamacct: bc i feel tall 𼺠and max doesnât mind carrying me home !!! ⼠ynspamacct: oops âşď¸ we mustâve replied at the same time hahaaa user26: iâm going to slam my head into the nearest wall, viciously. ⼠ynspamacct: donât do that! life is worth living i promise đ°
user26: first photo made my tummy flip for some reason đŤŚđĽ´đ¤¤
⼠ynspamacct: you should see a doctor! that doesnât sound healthy :) ⼠user27: u better stop thirsting over her man like that đł
lilymhe: boundaries đ§đťââď¸đđťââď¸
ynspamacct: exactly đ
user27: breakfast in bedâŚwhat did he want from you đ¤
⼠ynspamacct: âŚnothing? or, just quality time i guess! heâs sweet like that 𼰠user27: ,,,i didnât know that was an option. ⼠ynspamacct: being treated like a queen comes with accepting thatâs how you deserve to be treated, and that itâs the *only* way youâre going to be treated đ ⼠user28: SPEAK ON IT MY GOOD SIS đŤ
user29: this relationship is dear to me đŞ
user30: m-men arenât shit? who knew that was possible.
⼠user31: i thought all we had was tom holland đ ⼠maxverstappen1: iâm honored to be added to the roster ⼠user32: i cannot take this man seriously now. ⼠user33: why bc he loves his gf and you canât even seem to find the way to a shower or a therapy session đ ⼠user34: WOAH VIOLATION
yninsta: max, maxie-max, maxie !!!
⼠maxverstappen1: i love you most, schatje đđ ⼠yninsta: aw you beat me to it đ ⼠yninsta: i love you foreverrrr #1 đđ ⼠user35: oh iâm gonna cry :)
Š httpsserene 2024 - most photos from pinterest and edited by me. fc is shahdbatal.
#f1 x reader#f1 smau#max verstappen x reader#f1 x poc!reader#max verstappen x poc!reader#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant fluff#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#max verstappen x yn#f1 x female reader#platonic! logan sargeant x reader#f1 fic#ââË・â. series special: formula 1#sereneâs chapters.#sereneâs fave.#⥠ŕź*.ďž love interest: mv.
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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK
Pairing:Â Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk thatâs probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count:Â 12k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isnât the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesnât smile, he doesnât appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesnât help that heâs incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. Youâve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist đś: on the way home
A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! đ Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe đ)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I donât know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! đ
Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always đĽ°
Jung Hoseokâs smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. Itâs light and infectious, but more than anything, itâs genuine. Thereâs comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; thereâs this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.
It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his familyâs company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. Youâd see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.Â
You wouldnât have expected that five years after that, youâd be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.Â
He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. Heâd spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, heâd preside over meetings with vigor, and heâd start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.
Itâs that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with âyou worked hardâ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.Â
âThank you for all that youâve done,â Hoseok says. âI know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. Iâm gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.â
Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that itâs Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseokâs executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change heâll be experiencing starting next week, heâs the one affirming and comforting you, something thatâs rare for someone of his stature and something youâll definitely miss.Â
âYou know I donât cry, but I just might,â you respond, earning you a chuckle. âBut really, I⌠I canât thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials werenât like the others butââ
âMs. Cho,â he interjects. âThe only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them wouldâve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.â
âYouâre a good boss, itâs that simple,â you return the compliment now. âYou were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a personâs confidence, you know?â
âI know that now,â he smiles again. âBut really, I donât think I couldâve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkookâs lucky heâs taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.â
At the mention of the manâs name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.Â
âNot a fan of him, I see,â he eyes you curiously.
âI donât mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,â you explain. âI may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.â
âYes, I do confirm that,â Hoseok chuckles. âJungkookâs quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But heâs brilliant and creative and youâll learn a lot from him, too. Heâs being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think thatâs you. His father thinks thatâs you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.â
You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company wonât ever really go away. You didnât graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. Youâre thankful for the trust that youâve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.Â
At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. â___, as your former boss and as your friend, Iâm here to back you up. Jungkookâs family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?â
He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that youâll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesnât want you to go through that again.Â
âOkay. But I didnât mean to imply that heâs a jerk just because he doesnât smile,â you clarify. âI guess I meant to say that⌠Iâll miss working for you. Thatâs all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. Iâll miss being with A-yeong, too.â
âI know you also meant to say that Iâm the best boss youâve ever had,â Hoseok chuckles, though you donât miss the sadness in his eyes, too. âBut Iâll just be two floors above you. Youâll still see me everywhere. And A-yeongâs gonna miss you, too, thatâs why she canât let you go without having dinner out, that Iâm apparently not invited to.â
âWeâre just gonna gossip about you, donât worry,â you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times heâs cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. âBut thank you again, Hoseok,â you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because thatâs what he is, and itâs a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. âYouâve treated me well, and Iâll never forget that.âÂ
âThank you, ___,â he smiles once more. âIâll finish setting up my new office now. Iâll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, heâll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.â
âOh, so heâs coming today?â You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. Youâre clearly uninformed about this. âDidnât he just arrive last night?â
âYes, he did. I thought heâd at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say heâll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,â Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. âI know itâs short notice so you donât need to brief him or anything yet. Youâve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.âÂ
âOkay, but Iâve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,â you say, having prepared all the documents heâd need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing itâs your job to help him with that.Â
âOf course you have,â Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. âIâll see you in half an hour.â
You sulk in your seat once heâs out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, youâre the one who isnât. Youâd held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking youâd have the entire weekend for that, so youâre caught off guard at having to face him today. Itâs one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; itâs another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.
Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseokâs assistant, youâd only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when heâd fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didnât really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.Â
But youâd definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. Youâre not exaggerating when you say that youâve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when heâs talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his fatherâs infectious charm and his motherâs youthful energy.
Youâve gotten used to Hoseokâs passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because itâs what he loved to do with her. Youâre unsure how youâll manage assisting someone whoâs the complete opposite. Youâve heard of Jungkookâs abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, heâd say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps thatâs why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that youâd always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.
You didnât think those times that youâd one day be having him as your boss. You didnât expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.Â
Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support teamâs office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but youâre stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.Â
She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.Â
âItâs only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,â she laments. âWhy did they appoint him as President so soon? They couldâve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!â
You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.Â
âWe always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sisterâs place,â you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. âAnd much as heâd like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. Heâs just two floors above us, though. Iâm sure he wouldnât mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.â
âNo, Iâm bitter,â she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.
âWell, at least the new Vice President isnât a stranger,â Manager Lee chimes in.Â
âI heard the CEOâs son doesnât smile,â Do-hyun counters. âHow do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesnât think thereâs anything worth being happy about? I also heard heâs a workaholic, so what if he demands that we canât leave the office until he does? And that heâs kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have toââÂ
âYah! Those are just hearsay, and we donât listen to those,â you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.Â
And if those are, itâs your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that thereâs no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. Youâve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you werenât burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.Â
But then again, itâs natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it couldâve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, youâre now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.Â
âYouâll meet him soon, and Iâll make sure heâs properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,â you say. âLetâs just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.â
The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.Â
âOkay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,â you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.Â
Youâre busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.
âMr. Ri,â you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. âWhat are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?âÂ
Knowing youâre referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.Â
âIâm here as Jungkookâs chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,â he clarifies. âIâve just driven him from his penthouse.â
âOh,â you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. âSo, heâs here.â
âHe is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesnât waste his time when he starts next week. Heâs at Hoseokâs office right now. I believe heâs supposed to sign some documents?â
âOh shit,â you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Riâs demand for you to slow down.Â
With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseokâs office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the Presidentâs assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.Â
âHi, ___. I was just about to call you,â she says. âCEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, theyâre waiting for you.â
You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkookâs voice.
âI still prefer my old assistant,â he says, obviously displeased. âHe was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didnât even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesnât know any other foreign languages when thatâs one of my requirements.â
âSon, youâre being too harsh,â CEO Jeon chides. âMs. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. Sheâs worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how sheâs been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.â
â___ is great, Kook. Sheâs incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesnât need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,â Hoseok argues.Â
âI still want my old assistant. Itâs more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,â Jungkook insists. âIâm just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I canât be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that Iâd much rather give my attention to.â
âAnd Iâm saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,â the elder Jeon counters. âPlus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and thatâs harder. Itâs just not practical, especially since youâre due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.â
âBut Iââ
âGood morning, gentlemen,â you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already canât stand his judgmental and entitled ass.Â
You walk towards the middle of the room where theyâre congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that youâd overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.
âGood morning, Ms. Cho,â CEO Jeon says. âI know youâve seen him a few times but Iâd like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.â
Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesnât meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if itâs the last thing you think he deserves. Â
âMy pleasure, Mr. Jeon,â you respond. âI was told that youâd like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. Iâve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,â you add, handing him an iPad. âThis has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. Thereâs also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments youâre overseeing. Youâll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. Iâve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if thereâs anything missing that youâd like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.â
âHmm,â Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders youâve prepared for him.
In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that youâve provided to him, youâre given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last yearâs gala.Â
As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, youâre reminded that this is the first time youâve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.Â
Heâs unfairly handsome.Â
Heâs got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes theyâd be the lucky one heâd choose to be with for the night.
The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.Â
âIâm sure Iâll find something thatâs missing,â he states.
âIf theyâre relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,â you respond, knowing full well that youâve included every possible document that would be of use to him.Â
âIâll be the judge of whatâs relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,â he counters.Â
âOf course, Mr. Jeon,â you say, conceding. âWhatever it is, then Iâll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.â
Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections heâs missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you donât mind. Heâs the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.
Once heâs done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. âIs there anything else, Ms. Cho?â
âI suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,â you say.Â
Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. Itâs at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.
âYou can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,â the older man says.Â
âThat can wait. Iâve had enough of engaging for today,â Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.Â
âIn that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.â
You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You donât miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that itâs fine, that Jungkookâs someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesnât faze you. It doesnât change the fact that you wish he wasnât your boss though, or at least, that he wasnât such a jerk like what heâs being right now.
Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.   Â
Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.Â
âOn the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,â you start, thankful that thereâs not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. âOn the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down theââ
âIâve been here before, Ms. Cho,â Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. âThis is my familyâs building; Iâm very much aware of how the floors look like.â
Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation heâs trying to make you feel isnât gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, thatâs the only thing that will keep you going.
Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics wonât work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.Â
Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell heâs already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think heâs processing the information and making sure he remembers them.Â
There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.Â
âIâm sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But Iâm here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as Iâd like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,â he starts. âMy cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, donât expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because thatâs what I commit myself to and thatâs the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?â
âYes, sir,â the team answers in unison.Â
âWe commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,â Manager Lee says. âAs the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.â
âThatâs good, and thatâs what I expect,â Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.Â
âIs my room still being sanitized?â He turns to you.Â
âYes, sir.â
âWhy did it need to be sanitized? And why today?â
âItâs protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I donât need to come here tomorrow, as he doesnât like any of his staff working during the weekend,â you reply. âThis should be finished this afternoon. Iâve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.â
Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that heâs heading out to meet his friends.
âIs there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?â You ask, thankful that you donât have to deal with him for the rest of the day.
âNo.â
âOkay then, sir. Iâll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?â
âSure,â he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. âJust keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.â
Heâs gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once youâve heard the elevator ding that indicates that heâs gone. When you get there, youâre greeted with everyoneâs frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.
âI donât like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!â She complains. âI miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?â
âAish!â You reprimand her. âDonât speak like that. And donât let those few minutes determine everything for you.â
âWell, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I donât like him. No matter how good-looking he is,â Chin-sun says.
âHe is, right!â Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. âIâve seen him around but I didnât think heâd be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that heâs a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe thatâs why he doesnât have a girlfriend! Heâs probably too snobby andââ
âYah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,â you scold her this time. âThatâs your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?â
âEvery washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?â Do-hyun responds.Â
âAnd since when do we listen to gossip,â you scowl at her. âSure, heâs not our favorite person right now but we donât have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!â
âPeople talk, I guess,â she shrugs. âAnd heâs often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. Iâm not saying theyâre all accurate⌠just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?â
âNo, I donât, and we shouldnât be sticking our noses in places where they shouldnât be,â you say.
âFine, but itâs just a heads up,â Do-hyun says, turning serious now. âYouâre his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and thatâs just how our worldâs set up.â
âSheâs right,â Chin-sun chimes in. âI mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out⌠You just got lucky that Mr. Jungâs pretty chill and has a wife whoâs even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.â
Youâd laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know theyâre both right. Hoseok wasnât perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.
But with Jungkook as a single man, youâre unsure what personal business youâd end up being involved in. You just wish it wasnât something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isnât something you can even really talk about with others.
âWell, I donât wanna think about any of that right now,â you sigh, knowing youâve got enough to worry about, such as how youâre going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesnât want you around.Â
But if heâs gonna be a hard-head about it, then youâre just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because youâre determined to prove yourself constantly, and youâll just show him that he needs you, and he doesnât really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.Â
You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. Youâre no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didnât notice the time fly by; before you know it, itâs 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.
âHi,â she chirps, hugging you in greeting. âAre you ready?â
âIâll just pack my things,â you say, walking to your desk.Â
A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. âThis looks so different from how it used to be. And thatâs good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. Heâs into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.â
You know that despite her kindness, she wouldnât lie, and you could only hope that sheâs right. You think it looks nice, but itâs what he thinks that matters; youâll just have to wait until Monday to find out.Â
As youâre about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.
âIâm sorry about Jungkook, ___. Heâs stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isnât always like that, and this isnât me making excuses for him,â your former boss says.Â
âWhy, what did he do?â A-yeong asks worriedly.Â
âBasically implied that Iâm not qualified for this role, among other things,â you respond. âBut itâs okay. Not like I havenât heard that before.â
âAnd you know thatâs not true,â Hoseok comforts you. âHeâs not good with change, thatâs all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and heâs just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, donât take them to heart. Heâll get a word from me, and heâll definitely get one from his father.â
You want to say that itâs not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; heâs your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But youâre not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that youâve experienced a bit of what itâs like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.
âHeâs probably just tired,â you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. âAnd he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. Iâm just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and heâll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.â
âBut that matters though,â Hoseok insists. âI got things done because we worked well together. Heâs gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And Iâll make sure that he does.â
âI know you said you want to look out for me but I donât think itâs a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,â you say, letting him know youâre serious and you mean business. âIâll be okay, donât worry about me.â
You give him a comforting smile, and you hope itâs enough to quell Hoseokâs own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and itâs the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.Â
You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.Â
All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.
Jungkookâs apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you havenât been to yet, as itâs one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.Â
You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. Itâs Monday, after all, and itâs your first time here; you donât want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.Â
Youâre about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.Â
There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and itâs probably due to the boxing heâd just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way heâs panting heavily.Â
You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if youâre the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you canât deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.Â
âYouâre here,â he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.
âI asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,â you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. âPerhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if youâre not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.â
You donât actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and heâs the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistantâs scheduled to come. You wouldâve appreciated it if he says you donât need to apologize, but he doesnât.
âItâs fine, I just finished,â he huffs.Â
He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.
âSo, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jungâs outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?âÂ
âSure. I just donât have any staff with me so youâre on your own. Iâm fine with anything though. Iâm not usually hungry in the morning,â he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.
You follow him, careful not to enter spaces youâre not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.Â
âHow will you prepare my clothes from there?â He huffs. âOf course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.â
You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. Heâs already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.Â
You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. Thereâs really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.
Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.Â
He looks away and says itâs fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where youâve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.
âThatâs⌠thatâs all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,â you say. âI can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes andââ
âIâm having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,â he says, as he takes a bite of his food. âSo, whatâs my week like?â
You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings heâll be having this week, including who theyâll be with and their purpose. Theyâre mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and youâre thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkookâs questions are more specific than you expected.Â
Sure, heâs a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, heâll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, heâll be involved in crafting policies; heâs also free to manage his own construction projects, and thatâs what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.Â
You suppose itâs why his questions donât stop, even after heâs cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes heâs made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that heâs also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you canât help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly donât feel too annoyed.Â
But of course, he has to ruin it again.
âI need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,â Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. âAnd I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe youâre trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.â
âYes, sir,â you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that youâre unsure of the need for them before the meetings.Â
Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know youâll be cramming to get everything done.Â
You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and itâs times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so youâd at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.Â
Itâs not to say that work wasnât overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now youâre stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isnât enough.Â
You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkookâs room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.Â
Itâs an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasnât exactly a good start of the day.Â
They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkookâs coffee, remembering from his former assistantâs notes how he wants it. Heâd put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time youâre doing it for him.
His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.
âTwo espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,â you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.
He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.Â
How bold of you to assume that heâd thank you or even acknowledge it, as if heâd shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasnât.Â
You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.Â
It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didnât miss the way heâd acknowledged them with âgoodâ and âwell done,â and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you canât process how itâs his non-acknowledgment thatâs just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, youâre unsure if thatâs on him or if thatâs on you.Â
Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. Thereâs a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.Â
You saw the excitement in your team membersâ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that youâre all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your dayâs been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period heâs giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.Â
You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that youâre all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, youâd have to match Jungkookâs ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.Â
Youâre clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you donât have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that youâll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.Â
You donât realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkookâs form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if youâre done with the annotated documents.Â
âIâll send it in five minutes, sir,â you say, hoping heâll at least give you that.Â
âOkay,â he responds. âCome to my office after youâve sent it.â
âYes, sir,â you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.Â
You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. Itâs quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and itâs at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.
You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if youâre too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkookâs eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but itâs not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.Â
It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkookâs assistant.
âDo you need to step away, Ms. Cho?â He asks, not meeting your eyes.Â
âOh, itâs not⌠uh,â a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. âI just had a busy lunch break.âÂ
You settle for that, a hint that youâd spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt youâd get anything close to that from this man.
Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesnât ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.Â
Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.
âMr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,â he instructs his chauffeur. âSheâs too busy right now.â
âWill do, Mr. Jeon.â
Taking minutes of a meeting when youâre starving is not a good thing. You know this because youâve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. Itâs also not rare to miss out on lunch because thereâs a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.Â
But just because youâre used to it, it doesnât mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. Theyâre so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that youâre documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You donât even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but itâs really not helping your concentration.
You hope the way youâre nibbling your lips doesnât give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.
[From: Min Yoongi] you didnât have lunch, did you?Â
You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.Â
You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and thatâs on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.Â
It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.Â
You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didnât hear you because heâs already on the phone and heading out the door. But itâs that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. Youâre not surprised anymore to find out who itâs from.
âEat,â Yoongi says from next to you. âI could see your hands shaking from across the table.â
âWhat about you?â You ask, your lips in a pout once more.Â
âYou know I donât eat these things,â he shrugs.
He doesnât, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and heâd saved these so he could give them to you.Â
âTen years later and youâre still trying to make sure I eat, huh?â You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.
âIf I donât, who would?â He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. âYou have a bad habit of not doing that.â
âWell, duty calls. What can I do?âÂ
âTake care of yourself even if itâs hard,â he replies.Â
âSays the man who rarely does it himself,â you chuckle.Â
âYou know, the best advice I give are the ones I donât actually follow, so disregard the fact that I donât even do what I say because they apparently work,â he says. âBut I mean it, ___. Eat this now.â
âThanks, Yoongi,â you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.Â
Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose itâs enough to not make you faint at this moment.Â
âAnd eat a proper dinner, okay?â He follows up.
âIâll be off late, so Iâll just grab something from the convenience store,â you say. âThatâs as proper as I can afford tonight.â
âAish, fine,â he shakes his head. âBut let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts wonât taste as good without one.â
âThat would be life-saving,â you dramatically say. âWhat did I do to deserve a friend like you?â
âDonât know. I mean, Iâm not that great,â he shrugs.Â
You playfully roll your eyes. âIâll save the compliments once I have the coffee.â
âYeah, yeah, whatever,â he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.Â
You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that youâll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. Itâs 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.
âThis is all they have left,â he says. âI hope it can last you until tonight.â
âIt will,â you smile. âThank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I donât think I wouldâve survived all these years without you.â
âWow, all because of coffee and snacks,â he laughs, teasing.Â
âItâs a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,â you tease back.Â
âYeah, whatever,â Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.Â
Youâre thankful that after everything thatâs happened, youâre still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.Â
âAnyway, Iâm quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume itâs still here? Unless itâs in the archive room,â he continues.
âItâs within five years so it should be here,â you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.Â
You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.
âNeed help?â Yoongi asks.
âAnd what help could you give, huh?â You tease again, earning you a playful groan.
âYou brat.â
You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.Â
âJust make sure I donât fall and embarrass myself further today,â you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.Â
You feel Yoongiâs arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and itâs moments of relief like this one that youâre glad youâre afforded after a long day like today.Â
From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, heâs never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isnât agitated or serious.
He knows that thatâs probably on him. Heâd spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But heâd been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.Â
Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that heâd be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone heâd only heard of as Hoseokâs assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didnât even impress him.
Jungkook doesnât like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; thatâs the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.
But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. Heâs been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didnât really plan to.
That doesnât mean that he didnât plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. Heâd been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.
He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. Heâd never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and itâs the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesnât get rattled the next time you counter him.
Thatâs why he demanded more work, which he didnât intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. Heâd seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what heâd bought but heâd left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.Â
Maybe there wasnât enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesnât think heâd ever see that directed at him, considering how heâd been to you on his first day, but maybe thatâs also good; that could be his defense. Maybe itâd help quell that initial attraction that he doesnât want and cannot allow at all to grow.
It doesnât mean it doesnât agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like thereâs something there.
Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isnât exactly advisable, but heâd gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.
But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.
âHey, Yoon,â he says as he opens the door. âCan we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.â
Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkookâs voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didnât expect the two would have.
âThis building is a good starting point,â Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. âIf this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. Iâll just ask ___ for the files I need.â
âYou two seem close,â Jungkook says too quickly.Â
Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didnât expect heâd hear. More than that, he tries to read whatâs underneath it, knowing that his friendâs tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.
âYou could say that,â Yoongi replies. âShe did say that no oneâs looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldnât have survived all these years without me.â
âSo youâre actually friends?â
âYes.â
âWere you more?â
Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer heâs looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.
âDoes it matter?â The older man asks.
âJust donât want to be surprised, thatâs all,â Jungkook shrugs. âIf thereâs an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.â
âIt happens here a lot,â Yoongi responds. âI mean, it gives people something to gossip about but itâs how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.â
Feeling like he wonât get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesnât know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.Â
But itâs what prompts Yoongi to reply.Â
âWe met when she was just an intern,â he says. âWe used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.â
Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.
âI also asked her out before,â Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. âYou just canât help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didnât want to lead me on because she didnât feel anything more. She also doesnât like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.â
âHow are you still friends?â
âAsks the guy whoâs still friends with his ex,â Yoongi laughs.
âChaerin and I are civil, thereâs a difference. And we havenât spoken in years.â
âYou loved her, though,â Yoongi counters. âI never got to that point.â
âThis isnât about me,â Jungkook huffs.Â
Knowing itâs a topic that his friend doesnât like talking about, Yoongi relents. âI moved on. That was years ago,â he says. âAnd it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, sheâs not from here and her friends arenât here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didnât think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? Thatâs all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.â
âHow brave,â Jungkook remarks.Â
âYou mean mature?â Yoongi corrects. âYes, thatâs what I am, and itâs the best I could be for her. Especially since sheâs got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, thereâs just so much to do for your first day on the job.â
âDonât remind me,â Jungkook groans.Â
âI will. Only so you could feel bad.â
âI already do. Thatâs why IâŚâ
âBought the pastries,â Yoongi finishes. âI mean, I didnât order them.â
âWas any even left for her?â Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and heâd been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.
âSort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.â
âYou sure you donât like her anymore?â Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesnât understand. He finds you attractive, thatâs it. He doesnât know why his mind searches for more answers.
âYou donât have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?â Yoongi responds. âAnd she needed it. Heavens know the support sheâd need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.â
Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because heâs the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldnât call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.
âHey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say itâs from me?â
âThe food hallâs closed,â Yoongi says.
âThe cafe down the street, then?â
âYou canât be fucking serious,â the older man groans.Â
But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because itâs easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space thatâs become comfortable because heâs been the only one inside for so long.
So Yoongi does as heâs asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what itâs for.
âJust thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day youâve had,â he says.Â
âHey, those are delicious,â you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. âBut thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.â
âJust make sure to eat on time so I donât have to buy your dinner again,â he teases. âI mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?â
âOkay,â you smile brightly. âGet home safe tonight.â
Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. Thereâs this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow thatâs enough to lessen the guilt for now.Â
He still doesnât know if heâll ever see that smile directed at him or if heâd ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; itâs trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. Heâll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesnât push you away in the process.
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The Past Records ⣠event information full translation
The story about the merciless, arrogant man and the unfulfilled promise
ę° Ö´ Öş âš @ notice âš Öş Ö´ ęą this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization purposes. this post is subject to edits and updates as more information is revealed. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please donât repost these or claim these as your own!
âś Card and event duration
â Hey, big brother, promise me somethinâ. When ya fill your pockets, take me to the moon. â
â I gotcha. Donât matter if itâs money, magic, or anything else I gotta use. I will take ya there. â
On the night the moonlight illuminated us, Iââmade a promise.
This is a memory from the past of a merciless and arrogant man, one known to none other.
This will double function as Judeâs route release event and a past records event, similar to Roger!
Event duration: 11/22 12:00 â 12/03 22:59 JST
⡠Collection rewards
As you continue to send hearts, you can collect various cards and items featuring Jude, including:
4 different expressions of young Jude (â
3 cards)
Torso attire of his outfit when he was young, his adult one will be featured in his birthday party
After you send 570 times, you will receive a â
4 card of Jude, who had lost âźâźâź
Additionally, by sending your hearts 500 times to an individual suitor, you can receive a debt collection document (?) that Jude has sent them!
Just what sort of deal went on between the two of them�!
If you send to Jude, you can obtain his document addressed to you!
As a collection bonus, you can get an event-exclusive label. The labels below are ones you can get by sending to an individual suitor, and they indicate what their relationship is!
William: Biting sarcasm goes over his head â Harrison: Both are readers and writers â Liam: A useful cat
Elbert: They are each otherâs patron âAlfons: A bothersome offense to public morals â Roger: Former doctor and his patient
Kate: The robin who knows of Judeâs past â Ellis: A contractual relationship â Victor: Hates him especially, and Victor likes him
Darius: A recent patron to each other â Nica: They both dislike people who are like themselves â Ring: A dog with a hearty appetite
The story appears to have 8 chapters, including the ECB, which you can collect as you progress through the event. The card is associated with a story as well.
Everything will be told from Judeâs point of view.
⸠Ranking rewards
Individual rankings: If you rank in any suitorâs top 100, you will get an avatar where they are holding a Jude plushie for the respective suitor.
General rankings: By ranking in the event, you can get avatar items and special limited labels, either denoting that you ended in the top 1, 10, or 100 places (see above).
âš Fever (lucky time) schedule
ăšăăźăŞăź2ĺ = Story 2x â ă¨ăšăłăźă2ĺ = Escort 2x â ă¨ăšăłăźă2ĺ = Escort 3x
Do escorts and read the story during lucky time to collect more hearts and progress through the event!
Escort 3x will occur twice throughout the duration of this event âŞ
âş What are âThe Past Records?â
The Past Records refer to a collection event series where you are able to grasp the villainsâ past.
In the past, other stories in this series were released, featuring the relationship between Elbert & Alfons (from late 2023) and Ellis & Jude (early 2024).
Good luck to all those participating and ranking âŞ
#ikemen villains#ikevil#ă¤ăąăĄăłă´ăŁăŠăł#ikevil jude#ikevil jude jazza#jude jazza#ikemen villains jude#cybird ikemen series#cybird ikemen#cybird otome#ikemen series#otome game#otome#ikevil translation#ikevil translations
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Cat got her tongue - LN
Summary: Y/n is in heat and is too shy to ask for Landoâs help. While her lovely boyfriend decided to be a tease.
Warnings: SMUT, horny!shy!reader, teaser!Lando, fingering (f!receiving), pet names, penetrative sex, unprotected (donât do that), orgasm denial (i think thatâs it lemme know if missed any)
Notes: My first fic hit 1k iâm so happy, thank you for you guys support. Also still English is not my first language so sorry if anything sounds weird. Hopes you guys enjoy đ
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Y/n is probably the shyest person Lando ever met, and thatâs also his favorite thing about her. However surprisingly, Y/n and Lando have a very high sex drive. Because of y/nâs shyness, she never says no to Lando, but he always makes sure sheâs ok with it of course.
However, today was another case. They were chilling on the sofa in Landoâs apartment. Her boyfriend was sitting on the ground playing Fifa while she was lying on the sofa reading her new book. Everything was going alright, Y/n managed to focus and successfully finish 2 chapters until she reached the âspicy partâ of the book.
âWith a groan, he pushes into her while she gasps out loud, adjusting to his sizeâŚâ
Y/nâs face starts burning as she squeezes her thighs together as she looks down at her boyfriend. As much as y/n wants to ask Lando, which she knows he will be willing to help her, sheâs too shy. Normally, y/n never has to ask for an orgasm, sheâs actually getting too much of it. Landoâs friends tease him saying that theyâre like bunnies, always on top of each other. However, in this particular situation, she needs him. Y/n tries to shift her attention back to the book, but the words just fly through her head and she canât help but imagine Lando on top of her. Y/nâs whole body was on fire and her face practically looked like a tomato and ready to explode at any given moment.
âLan-â Y/n canât help but call out for his help
âHm?â Lando asks, eyes still glued to the screen
Y/n sat up and looked at him but didnât reply
âWhatâs wrong baby?â Lando turns around to look at her red face
Y/n still doesnât reply but looks at him with teary puppy eyes, hoping heâll get it and help her out. Lando did indeed figure out whatâs going on with his girlfriend but instead of helping her out, he decided to be a tease
âCanât help you if you donât tell me, hm?â He questions in a teasing tone, moving up to join her on the couch, face only inches away from hers. His hands were on her hip as he guided her to straddle him. Y/n had her arms wrapped around Landoâs shoulder as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, still struggling to get her words out because of her shyness and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be satisfied. Hip grinding down onto his crotch letting out some quiet whimpers.
âUse your words, princess,â Lando said in a stern voice, whispering in her ears.
âNeed youâ Y/n canât help but let out a small whimper, given sheâs almost half naked, only wearing panties and Landoâs sweater, sitting on her fully clothed boyfriend.
âAt least use your manners, god,â Lando says mockingly. Watching her cute face getting flushed everytime she gets shy, Lando just canât stop teasing his beloved girlfriend. âWhatâs the magic word?â
âPlease?â She mumbled into his neck
âGod, youâre so fucking cuteâ Lando chuckled. Their hands moved down to take off her panties. His fingers start going up and down her folds, collecting your wetness. âYouâre soakedâ
Y/nâs face gets even redder, looking like a chili at this point. She hates it when he says things like that, just because it makes her even more embarrassed than before, which is also why he loves dirty talk, he loves seeing her crumble for him. Landoâs fingers start rubbing her clit in a circular motion, drawing soft moans from her.
âI-Iâm closeâ Y/n moans as Lando inserts two fingers inside of of her. Thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, he starts scissoring her, touching her G-spot in every thrust. But just when she was about to cum, he took his fingers out. She finally removed her face from his neck just to look at him in confusion.
âNot yetâ
âI want you to ride meâ Lando whispers in her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Y/n frowns and pouts looking at him, not happy from being denied her orgasm and being demanded to ride her boyfriend. Well, not that she had a problem with it, just that she is shy, and sheâs pretty much a âpillow princessâ, and Lando loves her since he prefers being on top anyways. However, since heâs in the mood for teasing her to her breaking point, Lando makes her ride him.
âThatâs the only way youâre getting off, princessâ Lando states looking at your pouting face, extremely unsatisfied with her boyfriend.
Y/n shuffles to unzip his pants and pull down his boxer, revealing his hard member, now leaking precum. She lowers herself slowly, having a hard time adjusting to his size. After taking in all of him, Y/n starts bouncing on his cock. She tries biting her lips to muffle her moans, throwing a tantrum since sheâs still not happy from her orgasm denial earlier. However, her intentions fail miserably, as Lando's hands sneak down to stimulate her clit and she canât help but let out a loud moan. His mouth covered her nipple and start sucking it, adding to the pleasure.
Y/nâs legs were shaking from the overstimulation and her speed slowed down. She can barely ride him at this point and just grinds on him, but it wasnât enough. She knows she needs his help, but still finds it hard to speak up.
âAll you have to is ask, bunny,â Lando said as he saw her slowing down
âPlease,â Y/n says with tears welling in her eyes, on the brink of rolling down.
Lando holds her hips and starts moving her up and down on him, combined with his thrusts upward, heâs hitting all the right spots. The sounds of their skins slapping together with wet sounds of her arousal and his precum filling the room. Y/nâs pretty sure that their sofa is ruined for good but thatâs not their focus right now.
âLan Iâm cummingâ The overwhelming feeling took over her, pushing her to the edge.
âCum for me princessâ
Y/n squeezes her eyes shut as sheâs about to cum âEyes on me babyâ Lando demands, always loving to see her face when sheâs falling apart for him. Y/n keeps eye contact with him while she cums, just the way he likes it, and lets out a loud squeal, milking him as he spills inside her. Lando lays her down on the couch as he pulls out of her, parting her legs and staring at his cum leaking out of her hole. Lando takes his phone takes a picture and puts it in his hidden album.
âDo you have to stare?â Y/n asks, squeezing her thighs together to hide it.
Lando just chuckled and went to get a towel to clean her up.
âI love you so much, even though sometimes i think cat got your tongues, youâre so cuteâ
#lando norris#lando smut#lando x you#lando imagine#lando x reader#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fic#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#f1 smut#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#smut
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âRough night?â
Steve jumps for the second time in far too short of a timeframe. He gasps in surprise and clutches at his chest. He didnât hear any guests enter.
âFuâ I mean, you startled me.â Steve manages to sputter. Cursing in front of guests is definitely not appreciated.
Steve takes a deep breath before looking up, and when he does he is face to face with a guy roughly his age.Â
Except this guy is nothing like Steve at all. All long hair, leather, and tattoos. His eyes do not leave Steve as he puts down a guitar case. It is littered with stickers, but one stands out in particular: âCorroded Coffinâ.
Steve makes a mental note.
âWelcome to the Indianapolis Sweetwater Hotel. How can I assist you tonight?â The words are familiar on Steveâs tongue â he has said this exact line a hundred times before.
âEdward Munson, I booked for three nights.â The guy leans on his arm against the desk, leans close while he watches Steveâs hands move with a smile playing on his lips.
Steve opens the register. His hands feel clumsy under Munsonâs close watch as he flips to the current date.Â
âMr. Munson, I have you right here. One moment.âÂ
Steve turns around to gather the key and he feels the guyâs eyes burn into his back. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, almost like static.
âThere you go,â Steve says as he puts the key on the desk and gently pushes it in Munsonâs direction. Before he can pull his hand away, however, Munson grabs him by the wrist. Itâs so forceful it pulls Steve forward and they now are face to face â so close he can feel Munsonâs breath on his lips.Â
Munson looks at him, eyes so dark they are nearly black, so intense itâs like they're cutting straight through him. Munsonâs eyes dart downward to Steveâs lips, then to his chest â his name tag â lingering there for a second.Â
âSteve,â he says, dragging his name like heâs tasting it.
And then he looks up again, holds Steveâs gaze for another second before letting go of his wrist. He grabs the key off the desk, throws it, and catches it overhand with a practiced ease.Â
âYou workinâ tomorrow?â Munson asks, studying him like a predator.
Steve is still a little dazed by what just happened. Assaulted, he thinks, but his boss would probably not take it seriously. âEh, yeah, I am.â
âGood.â Munson smiles at him, toothy. Dangerous. Steve feels like a piece of meat under his gaze. âEnjoy the night.âÂ
With a careless wave, Munson leaves for the elevators and Steve realizes he forwent a lot of his duties just now. It doesnât matter, apparently, because Munson seems to know his way around. Perhaps he is a regular â or maybe all hotels are quite the same.
Steveâs wrist is red where Munson held it and there are two indentations where he dug his nails into Steveâs flesh. He rubs at it, looking back at his crossword puzzle.
'9. Creature of the night.'
Vampire, Steve writes down.
---
Chapter one is out now! â Part 1 â AO3 â
If you liked this, please consider dropping by AO3 âĄ
#steve x eddie#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#POV steve harrington#vampire#horror#my fics#wip#ster writes steddie#TGS
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Sukuna
[Chapter 1] Offerings
Story Masterlist - Next Chapter â
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
Sukuna is missing something, heâs not sure what it is but he knows that heâs bored. Heâs bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty.Â
Heâs done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didnât. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesnât feel like thatâs enough anymore. Thereâs something that heâs missing, but heâs not quite sure what it is.Â
He has everything a man could possibly wantâ Although he isnât exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isnât going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesnât have much of a guide though, therefore heâs lost in how to fix his problem.Â
âUraume.â Sukunaâs voice isnât all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukunaâs every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or heâs upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two.Â
âMy king.â Uraume kneels down before him. Heâs quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. Itâs unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldnât trust anyone else with it though.
âWhat do men usually do?â He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesnât remember that stage of his life, and heâs sure he wasnât happy either which is the reason why heâs the monster he is now.
âIâm not sure.â They sound reluctant. âIf you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.â
âGet out.â He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesnât want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.
âThereâs a woman with an offering.â A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. Thatâs his answer.
Sukuna wants a successor.Â
âTake it to the servants, answer to her needs.â Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard taskâ Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.
âPlease eat, Haru.â You put the bowl beside the young boyâs mat. Youâve been slowly watching your brotherâs health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because itâs not something thatâs affecting anyone important.Â
Itâs not a disease thatâs affecting anybody else, really. Itâs not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that thereâs no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he canât keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.
âI did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.â You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. âJust one bite, Haru.â
âIâm sleepy.â Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.
âJust one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.â You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and youâre fighting back a smileâ Itâs barely any progress, if you can even call it that. âOpen up.â
Thereâs a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, âIâll get you some water.â
âHeâs finally eating something.â You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isnât all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that itâs a sign of him getting better but it really doesnât mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything thatâs made for him, but he throws it back up.Â
âI really wish this meant he was getting better⌠But we both know that heâll get worse tomorrow.â She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know sheâs right. You donât like hearing it though, youâre helpless. Thereâs nothing more you can do for Haru, youâre just waiting for the day to come.Â
âI really think he can get better.â Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you donât even believe yourself. Youâve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You canât just accept that fact though, heâs your baby brother, you canât let him go. âLet me get his water.â
âIâll get it⌠Think about what the medic said.â Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that youâve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,
âYour best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.â âBut if he thinks itâs beneath him, heâll kill you.â
You donât want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. Heâs not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself.Â
âIâll be back, I have to figure something out.â You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which youâre thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what youâll do next.Â
You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.
âMy king, thereâs a woman with an offering.â It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. Itâs unnecessary, purely materialisticâ Itâs a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna canât judge, he's the sole winner in the end.
âLet her in.â He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you.Â
Youâre trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because thereâs tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at deathâs door is no easy feat.
âRise.â He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You donât dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that heâs staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how heâs found her. âWhat do you want?â
âMy brotherâŚâ Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You canât start crying in the middle of it, youâve gotten this far, heâll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. âHeâs sick. The medic canât cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.â
Heâs not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. Heâs more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you donât look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesnât want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesnât want one of them carrying his heir.
What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence thatâs written all over your face. Youâre the perfect lily that he canât wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.
âWhat do you have for me? Open the basket.â He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that itâs not enough. You donât know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. Heâs usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, âWhy do you come to me with this?â
âPomegranates arenât native to the land, and theyâre scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.â You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses itâs creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you donât gain points for creativity, no one ever has.
âPomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?â Heâs mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. Heâs right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? Heâs not like you, heâs not just going to eat it. Youâre usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, thereâs no answer from you, and he orders, âLook up at me.â
Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and youâre in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isnât a human. You were terrified earlier, but now youâre simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldnât wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.
âDo you really think Iâll do anything with the fruit?â His voice sounds serious, but thereâs a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. âYou have a voice donât you? Use it.â
âNo, my king. My apologies.â Itâs strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate. Â
âIâll give you a chance to redeem yourself.â Heâs thinking about how merciful he isâ Which isnât entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what heâs thinking for you. âI have a proposal for you.â
âA whatâŚ?â Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, itâll surely be something that you have yet to hear.Â
âBear my child, and Iâll forgive you.â He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, thereâs no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then.Â
âUraume!â Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesnât want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and theyâre in the room, waiting for their kingâs command. âTake the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.â
âWaitâ Youâre serious?â You dare to ask. You havenât even agreed, yet heâs getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. âYou donât even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?â
âWhatâs your name then?â He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you donât, youâre screwed. âThere we have it. Take her, Uraume.â
âWait!â You shout, but Sukuna isnât going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, theyâd be dragging you outside but youâre not just anybody.Â
Youâre the woman that will carry King Sukunaâs heir.
#[bonds of fruition]#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryoumen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna jjk#sukuna x you#sukuna jujutsu kaisen
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[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader
Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)
Mafia!TF141*F!Reader
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.
The customers become so ânormalâ, almost feels like you arenât in the same area as before â if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.
Itâs morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you havenât had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.
Lilting the song thatâs fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, youâre such a genius.
Youâre totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.
âPardon me?â He calls you again, but youâre left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.
Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body â which his khaki coat canât even hide â have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as youâre about to respond.
âmmsadjsmmâ The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the breadâs still stuffed in your mouth.
âehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?â Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didnât just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.
âEnglish breakfast, please.â He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat.Â
His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said manâs tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the ficâŚÂ okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.
The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.
You canât help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.
âDonât finish your breakfast?â
âJust trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.â you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question â Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sirâ
âCall me John, love.â The man â John sets his cup on the table before continuing âAnd no, IÂ havenâtâ
âThen⌠would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I canât finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isnât a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.
âI would love to.â
You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.
Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about Johnâs preference.
âHow much pepper would you like, John?â
âWould be great if itâs more.â
âAlright.â
You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.
How much is âmoreâ?
The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.
You shake it 10 times, since more is better.
Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.
âIt surely smells great.â John praises before diving in.
You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.
âItâsâ itâs okayâŚloveâŚâ He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isnât more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.
âHereâs water!â You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, youâre busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you donât see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.
A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isnât that lucky as it flies with Newtonâs help and clatters on the floor.
âShit! Iâm so sorry!â You stabilize yourself in Johnâs support. But wow, now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.
âNo worries, love. Itâs just a shirt.â
Even though John attempts to calm you, you still canât help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as Johnâs, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an âinsufficient funds :(â into your face.
You really donât want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you donât need them.
âSorry boss, Iâm late.â
You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on Johnâs chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.
âWhat happened?â
I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you canât answer with this, so you face John for help.
and heâs looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.
You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.
a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!
No John Price is harmed in this chapter.
tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143
#cod imagine#cod x you#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#soap x reader#soap x you#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x you#gaz x reader#gaz x you#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#price x reader#price x you#john price x reader#john price x you#tf141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf141 x you#mafia!tf141
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