#like they finally got to close that chapter???

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen. 

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through. 

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant. 

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that. 

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.” 

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth. 

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire. 

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms. 

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it. 

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it. 

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him. 

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.” 

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down. 

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him. 

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him. 

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed. 

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy. 

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be. 

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect. 

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything. 

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago. 

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant. 

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb. 

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit. 

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right. 

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby. 

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off. 

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you. 

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad. 

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up? 

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for. 

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless. 

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months. 

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been. 

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. 

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?” 

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something. 

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual. 

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better. 

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it. 

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time. 

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down. 

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was. 

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat. 

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him. 

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him. 

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

 “Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?” 

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number. 

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

 “What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[epickiya722]

Folks, you're not going to like what I have to say. I just know it and I'm warning you of that. I said it once before, but leaks really do make some folks act out in ways that I can't understand. We ain't even got a full translation and already people are saying this ship is canon and that ship is canon... and whatever else. Jumping to conclusions when you don't even have all the facts.

Look, I'm not saying Hori is the best writer. I'm not saying Izuku and Ochako is a bad ship (it's not, there's worse... a lot worse).

But I do think some people are jumping ten steps ahead and I doubt that they are canon romantically. This isn't me being in denial because I could care less about the ship. It's not a ship that makes me sit up at night and cry and want to punch a wall and harass people. No ship for me does.

So far, from what I can gather from the very little information Izuku wants to see Ochako more because... THEY LITERALLY HAVEN'T SEEN EACH OTHER A LOT. In the last chapter, Izuku states that the class haven't been able to catch up and whatnot because over the years they got busy with their careers. The last time they probably had a proper conversation was in high school.

Izuku and Ochako wanting to meet up more doesn't automatically mean they're going to date. Let's not forget, Ochako is one of the first people to become a close friend of Izuku's in their first year. They clicked because they were so similar. They mirror each other even!

They're best friends if anything and wouldn't you want to see your best friend after not seeing them for a long time?

So far, it just feels that this epilogue is them accepting their own feelings about everything that has happened, like a self-reflection and self-acceptance type of deal.

Sometimes, you realize something about yourself when encountering someone who is like you. That's how Izuku and Ochako are to me.

It takes them identifying with the other to come to terms about themselves.

"But the blushing! The handholding!"

So blushing automatically means "I have romantic feelings for you", is what some of you are saying?

Just gonna forget all the times they and others have blushed out of embarrassment or happiness? That even some characters have the blush stickers to show their sweet innocent nature, like Ochako for most of the story?

Izuku blushed at Katsuki in the final chapter out of happiness, so it can't apply here, too? Why does blushing got to only be used in a romantic sense?

Seeing Izuku blushing looking at Ochako is funny when considering he's holding an (possibly) alcoholic beverage in that same shot. My guy is probably drunk. 😆 Jokes aside, jokes aside.

This is Ochako and Izuku, we're talking about here. They're the Queen and King of MHA characters who blush a lot, no matter what is going on.

And the handholding? In MHA? It happens a lot between characters! It's not like anything new or Izuku and Ochako are going to get cooties.

Look, I might make some people laugh or hate me for this one but when I saw this... I was reminded of this.

For those that don't know, that is from the Predator (1987). Yes, that Predator.

Two characters that have been friends for a long time and just happy to see each other.

We seen this kind of handshake like this before between characters of different and same genders. Either as a greet or as an agreement.

Izuku and Ochako are just agreeing to see each other more and that they should allow themselves to live happy lives. That doesn't mean they're going to start dating and having babies the following week.

"Bakugou is being treated like his wingman!"

Ah, stop right there. Katsuki encouraging Izuku to talk to Ochako isn't like that strange because between Izuku and Katsuki, Katsuki is the one to most likely reveal his emotions. He is more in touch with his emotions than Izuku who while emotional tends to keep everything in.

Katsuki isn't playing wingman. He's playing advisor and someone who has experience with emotions.

Seeing Izuku stumbling over his words and being all nervous trying to talk to Ochako is so in character for him. He has never been too good expressing his emotions.

I doubt Katsuki would be like "go tell her you want to marry her". He is more like "go talk to her, you're friends, remember? Been forever since you had a proper conversation."

It's the same case with Himiko pushing Ochako towards Izuku. She is encouraging her to be happy and not be stuck in the past. Not "go get married".

Happiness doesn't mean you must be in a romance.

Just me, again, but I feel like some people are really just jumping the gun here. If you really are thinking Izuku and Ochako being canon is bad for your ship, that's... I'm sorry, this will be mean of me to say, but that's ridiculous.

A ship being canon shouldn't stop you from enjoying the ships you do like. What ever happen to "ignore canon"? Oh, I guess that becomes irrelevant when you want to cause panic and bash and panic and bash and panic and bash.

Like a handhold like that shouldn't make you feel threatened by that ship.

Just continue shipping your ships! Take it from someone whose favorite ship is of two characters who haven't been seen interacting before.

Even still, with just leaks alone, it doesn't mean they are canon. I have my ships and there's moments in whatever the story makes me ship them but I also don't think every little behavior is meant to be romantic.

The thing I know I'm going to hate about this epilogue isn't even the chapter itself. It's the reactions.

I know some people are going to say this chapter is queerbait and use to it to even go as far as to bash Ochako given she is the woman and it's routine to hate on the woman. It ain't queerbait if Katsuki and Izuku wasn't going to be explicitly a couple themselves. Let's not forget it's Shonen Jump and even though the queer coding can be there, we can't have everything.

Also, I also know that some fans of IzuOcha are going to use this chapter to justify their "authority" of "best ships" and harass people like "my ship is better than yours" and be only concerned about Ochako being a housewife.

I don't think Horikoshi is the greatest human and MHA is a flawless story but some of you are no better to these characters and the story.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 23

Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Tiny smidge of brief angst, but flufffff

A/N: Only a few more chapters to go..... 😭🫶🏻

The warm scent of roasted vegetables and garlic filled Sam’s apartment as he moved around the kitchen, Wanda and Natasha chatting at the table. A few candles flickered on the counter, their soft light casting a cozy glow. The night had started lighthearted, with jokes and reminiscing about old times, but there was an underlying tension—Sam had been quieter than usual.

As the three of them sat down to eat, Sam finally cleared his throat, breaking the casual flow of conversation. “So, there’s something I need to tell you both.”

Wanda and Natasha exchanged curious glances, but Natasha was the first to speak. “What’s up?”

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been offered a big promotion at the VA. It’s… it’s a lot more responsibility, a lot more pay, and honestly, it’s kind of my dream job.”

“That’s amazing!” Wanda said, clapping her hands together. “Congratulations, Sammy! You deserve it.”

Natasha smiled, but her brow furrowed slightly. “That is amazing! Buuuuut, why do you look like someone just told you your dog died?”

Sam let out a nervous laugh, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “Because there’s a catch. The job’s in Washington... I’ll be moving in a week and a half.”

The table fell silent. Wanda’s excitement dimmed slightly, her smile softening. “Oh, Sam… that’s… wow.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s a big change.”

“It is,” Sam admitted. “But it’s the right move for me. And don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, but leaving all of you behind? That’s the hard part.”

Wanda reached across the table, placing a hand over his. “We’re happy for you, Sam. Really. We’ll miss you, but this is huge.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll miss you like crazy, but you’ve got to do what’s best for you, and we'll always be here you know that"

Sam smiled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks, guys that really means a lot.”

Sam took a sip of his beer, his eyes darting between Wanda and Natasha as if he was working up the nerve to say something else.

“Who else knows?” Wanda asked cutting him off, taking a sip of her beer.

“Well, now that you both know, I should probably let you in on a little secret,” Sam said, his tone teasing but hesitant. “You two are actually the last ones to find out, don't hate me"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “The last ones?” she asked, her voice tinged with mock offense. “Wow, Sam. Save the best for last?”

Sam chuckled. “Exactly. Had to save the best for last, thats right!.... I told Bucky first—obviously…then Y/N, then Steve.”

Wanda leaned forward, smirking. “So, basically, you told everyone else first.”

“Listen,” Sam said, holding his hands up defensively. “I wanted to tell everyone together, but, uh, let’s just say there’s been a lot going on lately.” His gaze flicked to Natasha for a split second before he looked away.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam hesitated, taking another sip of his beer. “Well, I, uh… I heard about what Steve said to her after the whole thing between you two.”

Natasha froze, her expression hardening. “What do you mean? What did Steve say?”

Sam’s lips parted, then closed as he struggled to find the right words. Wanda’s head whipped toward him. “You’re not just gonna leave us hanging, are you?”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Look, it’s not really my place to say what exactly happened. But… yeah, I heard about it all"

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “We haven’t talked all week. After I told her we, I needed space, we’ve been taking that seriously this time.”

Wanda nodded slowly, her voice soft. “She hasn’t mentioned it to me either. We’ve just been talking about the little trip Bucky planned for them.”

"What trip?" Natasha questioned "I didn't know about a trip"

Wanda sighed "They're at that Cabin you all went to for summer when you were kids, and too be fair you asked for space from her not the other way around, probably why she didn't tell you...."

Natasja groaned rubbing her hands over her eyes. Sam’s gaze softened, his usual teasing edge replaced with concern. “Nat, I think she's been through a lot lately. She didn’t tell me much, but I know she ran into Steve after she left you, and well he said some pretty outta pocket things to her.”

Natasha blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to process his words. “What… what things?”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell.... But from what I’ve pieced together, She’s been carrying a lot on her shoulders—between the things with you, what Steve said both times, and just… everything.”

Natasha’s expression was unreadable, her eyes distant. After a long pause, she murmured, “I should’ve handled things better. I let my feelings get in the way, and now…”

Sam reached across the table, resting his hand on hers. “Nat, it’s not too late. You and her have been through worse and come out stronger. Just… don’t let this fester for too long”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Wanda gave her a reassuring smile. “Start by talking to her. You know she’s always willing to hear you out, you’re besties for a reason”

Sam nodded, his tone firm but kind. “Exactly. You’ve both been through too much together to let something like this tear you apart.”

Natasha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll try. I just… I didn’t realize how much I let this all spiral. Ugh, thanks guys.”

He gave her a small grin. “Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I can’t move away knowing my kids aren’t playing nice.”

Wanda burst into laughter, smacking his arm playfully. “Your kids?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, shrugging with mock seriousness. “I need all my children to get along before I leave. I can’t abandon this dysfunctional little family otherwise.”

Natasha let out a reluctant chuckle, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Okay, Dad. We’ll figure it out.”

Sam raised his beer. “That’s all I ask. Now, who’s ready for dessert? I made brownies, and I’m not letting you two leave without trying them.”

As the brownies were passed around the table, the mood lightened, but Sam couldn’t shake the subtle tension radiating from Natasha. He glanced at Wanda, who gave him an encouraging nod, as if silently urging him to address the elephant in the room, the one between him and Wanda, the one Natasha didn't even know about. Wanda only knew because she got here 30 minutes before Natasha and Sam thought who better to ask if he should tell her what he knew than someone who lived with Natasha 24/7 and knew her like the back of her hand.

Sam took a deep breath, setting down his beer. “Hey, Nat,” he started casually, but there was a seriousness to his tone that made her look up. “There’s, uh… something else I think you should know.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, already bracing herself. “What now, Sam? You moving to the moon next?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah, this one’s not about me. It’s about Steve.”

Her posture stiffened at the mention of his name, but she tried to play it off. “What about him?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “When I talked to Steve recently, he mentioned something… about you.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her lips tightening. “What exactly did he say?”

Wanda’s gaze darted between them, her brow furrowing with concern. “Sam, don’t dance around it.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, she told Steve that you’re in love with him.”

Natasha froze, her eyes widening for a split second before narrowing into a sharp glare. “She what?”

Sam held up his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. She didn’t mean anything by it. It just… came out.”

Natasha pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. “Why the hell would she say that? That wasn’t hers to tell.”

Wanda reached out, trying to calm her. “Nat, wait—”

“No, Wanda,” Natasha snapped, pacing the length of the kitchen. “I didn’t want him to know! Not like that. Not—God, why would she do that?”

Sam stood, keeping his voice calm. “Because she thought he deserved to know, Nat. She wasn’t trying to hurt you. She cares about you, and she thought—”

“Thought what?” Natasha interrupted, spinning on her heel to face him. “That I needed her to play matchmaker? That I couldn’t handle my own feelings?”

“Natasha,” Wanda said gently, standing as well. “She didn’t mean to overstep. You know she’s just been trying to keep everyone together.”

Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Well, she’s doing a great job of it, isn’t she?”

Sam sighed, stepping closer. “Nat, come on. You know her. She’s not trying to make things worse. She’s just… juggling a lot right now. And so are you.”

Natasha shook her head, her frustration palpable. “I don’t even know what to do with this. Steve hasn’t said a damn thing to me about it. Does he know how humiliating that is?”

Sam hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Maybe he’s trying to figure it out... You’ve had feelings for him for years, and he’s been untangling his own mess with her. It’s a lot for everyone.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her emotions warring on her face. After a long moment, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I just… I didn’t want him to know like this. It feels so… exposed.”

The tension in the kitchen hung heavy as Natasha paced, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Wanda, seated at the small dining table with her glass of wine, raised her hands to diffuse the brewing storm. “Okay, but to be fair, Nat… you meddled between Bucky and Y/N for years. You practically shoved them together.”

Natasha stopped mid-step, her head snapping toward Wanda. “That’s different.”

Sam, leaning casually against the counter with a brownie in one hand and a beer in the other, raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How exactly is it different?”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her voice clipped. “Because they were obviously in love with each other. Anyone with eyes could see that. They just needed a push—a little guidance.”

Wanda wasn’t buying it, her expression skeptical. “And what exactly do you think you and Steve are?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, exasperated. “That’s not the same, Wanda. Steve doesn’t…” Her words faltered, the usually sharp edge of her tone softening just slightly. “He doesn’t feel that way about me.”

Wanda sat up straighter, her voice gentler but still firm. “You don’t know that. You’re assuming, just like Y/N assumed with Bucky for years. Maybe it’s not the same, Nat, but… if you’re not even willing to try, how will you ever know?”

Natasha scoffed, clearly uncomfortable, her fingers tapping nervously against the counter. “It’s not about trying, okay? Steve’s not… he’s still hung up on her. Everyone and there pet knows that. I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Sam, who had been quiet through most of the exchange, let out a low whistle. “Yikes, this got real heavy, real fast.”

Natasha shot him a look, but Sam raised his brownie defensively. “Hey, I’m just saying. All this angst? It’s like being back in college.”

Wanda couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension breaking slightly. Natasha’s lips twitched, but her frustration still simmered beneath the surface.

Wanda placed a comforting hand on Natasha’s arm. “You have every right to feel the way you do. But maybe this is a chance to finally have that conversation with him. No more guessing, no more waiting.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glistening slightly. “Yeah, because those conversations always go so well,” she muttered bitterly.

Sam reached out, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Nat, you’re one of the strongest people I know. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Thanks, Dad.”

Wanda smiled softly, her voice teasing. “Hey, he’s just trying to get all his kids on good terms before he leaves.”

That finally earned a small, reluctant smile from Natasha. She looked at Sam, her anger softening. “I’ll figure it out. But if this goes sideways, you’re explaining to Steve why I threw his ass out a window.”

Sam grinned. “Deal.”

Before anyone could say more, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. The door opened, and Steve walked in, looking tired but still managing to offer a small smile. “Hey.”

Sam perked up immediately, pushing off the counter. “Perfect timing Stevie. Brownie or beer?” He held up both as an offering.

Steve chuckled lightly, hanging his jacket by the door. “Why not both?” he replied, running a hand through his hair before stepping into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?”

The three of them exchanged a quick glance before Wanda, ever the smooth one, piped up. “Oh, you know. Just solving the world’s problems over alcohol and baked goods.”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Natasha, who quickly busied herself with clearing a nonexistent mess on the counter. “You okay?” he asked her directly, his tone quiet and concerned.

Natasha didn’t meet his eyes, her voice brisk. “Fine. Just tired.”

Steve didn’t push, nodding slowly before reaching for the beer Sam had handed him. “Well, I’m gonna chug this beer and devour some brownies, long day.”

As he moved toward the living room, Wanda watched him go, then turned to Natasha. “You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually, you know.”

Natasha shot Wanda a warning look, but her shoulders sagged slightly as she leaned against the counter. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sam, finishing his brownie, clapped his hands together. “Alright, that’s my cue. I’ll let you ladies work out all the feelings. Steve and I are gonna dive into this six-pack.” He winked and walked toward the living room, leaving Natasha and Wanda in a lingering silence.

Natasha finally sat down across from Wanda, swirling her glass of wine but not drinking. “I don’t know if I can, Wanda. Talk to him, I mean.”

Wanda tilted her head, her voice soft. “Why not?”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh. “Because I’ve been standing on the sidelines for years. Watching him pine for her, knowing I’d never measure up. How do you even start a conversation after that?”

Wanda reached across the table, her fingers brushing Natasha’s. “You start by being honest. No more sidelines, Nat. You deserve to be happy too.”

Natasha’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but she quickly blinked them away. “Easier said than done.”

Wanda smiled gently. “Yeah, but the best things usually are.”

As they finished dessert, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. Sam stood to start clearing plates, and Natasha leaned back in her chair, glancing over at Steve. “Hey, you mind stepping out to the balcony with me for a second?”

Steve raised an eyebrow but nodded, grabbing his beer before following her outside.

The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the balcony. Natasha leaned against the railing, her arms crossed as she stared out at the skyline.

Steve joined her, standing a few feet away. “What’s on your mind?”

Natasha hesitated, her fingers gripping the railing tightly. Finally, she sighed and turned to face him. “Sam told me you know.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

She rolled her eyes. “About me, how I feel about you.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his expression softening. “So it’s true.”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, her voice quieter now. “It’s true.”

Steve stepped closer, resting his beer on the railing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter,” Natasha said, her tone a mix of frustration and resignation. “You were always looking at her. Always chasing after her. And I was… I don’t know. Just there.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, his gaze falling to the floor. “That’s not fair, Nat.”

“No,” she snapped, “what’s not fair is sitting on the sidelines, watching the person you love pine after someone else. Watching them hurt over and over, knowing there’s nothing you can do because they don’t see you that way.”

Steve’s eyes met hers, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Natasha said bitterly. “Because you were too busy looking through me.”

Silence hung heavy between them, the weight of her words settling deep in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha held up a hand, stopping him.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad,” she said, her voice softer now. “I just… I needed to say it. For me.”

Steve nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Nat. For not seeing you. For making you feel like you didn’t matter.”

She offered a small, bittersweet smile. “I know you didn’t mean to. But it doesn’t change how it felt.”

Steve reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You matter to me. You always have.”

Natasha shook her head, stepping back. “I can’t do this, Steve. Not right now. You need to figure out what you want—who you are—before you even think about coming back to me.”

Her words hung in the air, final and unwavering. Steve nodded, his heart heavy with regret. “I understand.”

“Good,” Natasha said, her voice steady. “Because I’m not going to wait around forever.”

With that, she turned and walked back inside, leaving Steve alone on the balcony, the weight of her words settling deep in his chest. He stared out at the city, his mind racing with everything he’d lost and everything he might never have.

The cabin glowed warmly under the soft flicker of candlelight and the crackling fire. The bottle of wine between you and Bucky was nearly empty, the two of you leaning comfortably against the couch on the plush rug. You took a sip from your glass, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, when Bucky suddenly set his glass down and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" you asked

"For loving me, for letting me love you."

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. "There's nothing and no one i'd rather have than you, Buck."

“I need to ask you something,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You tilted your head, smiling softly at him. “Okay. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about what you told me… about Steve. What he said to you. That you shouldn’t be with me, that you should be with him.”

You exhaled slowly, setting your own glass down. “Bucky…”

“It’s been bugging me,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours, vulnerable and searching. “I mean, do you—do you think he really meant that? Or was he just… hurting?”

You reached out and took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “Bucky, I think Steve was hurting. A lot. But there’s no way he really meant it. And even if he did… it wouldn’t matter. You’ve been my person since we were kids.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Really?”

You nodded, your voice softening. “Do you remember the first time you tried to push me on the swing? You said, ‘Sit here. I got you.’ Then you fell on your ass and scraped your knee.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly smooth, was I?”

“No,” you teased, leaning closer. “But you’ve always been there for me, Buck. Always. I’ve never had a single doubt about that.”

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Thank you. I just… I needed to hear it. With everything that’s been happening—with Steve, and now with Natasha.”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “What do you think is going to happen with them?”

Bucky sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling you closer so you were tucked under his arm. “I don’t know. Natasha’s tough as nails, but Steve? He’s in his head a lot. They both deserve to be happy, though. Hopefully, they figure it out… together.”

“I hope so too,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “They both deserve a happy ending.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, the weight of the topic settling between you. Then you shifted, sitting up and looking at him. “Speaking of happy endings… Sam told me.”

Bucky blinked. “Told you what?”

“About his promotion, the big move.” You studied his face, waiting for his reaction.

Bucky let out a sigh, his thumb brushing against your hand. “I wanted to tell you, but he asked me not to. I’m sorry—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You don’t get to apologize for that. Sam trusted you with something big. I could never be mad at you for keeping that promise.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “It’s gonna be weird, though. Him being halfway across the country.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice quieter. “It’s going to be weird for all of us.”

Bucky shifted, his hand gently cupping your cheek and turning you to face him. “We’ll figure it out. Just like we always do.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “You and me, right?”

“Always,” he said softly.

You let the moment linger before a thought struck you. “So… what’s our next step?”

Bucky frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you said, gesturing vaguely, “we’re together, but we’re still living as roommates. Two separate bedrooms, two lives in one space. What do we want to do about that?”

Bucky tilted his head, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “What do you want, doll?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. “I’d love to get a house someday,” you murmured, your voice carrying a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Something with a backyard. Maybe even some space for… you know.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a teasing smile, his blue eyes sparkling. “Kids?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze searching yours.

“Maybe,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. “What about you? Do you… want that?”

He didn’t answer right away, but the way his expression softened made your heart skip a beat. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. The weight of his next words felt like a vow. “A house, a backyard, a family. With you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with emotion. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your chest tightened, the sheer sincerity in his tone leaving you breathless. But then, his lips twitched into a grin as he added, “But… in New York?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your fingers brushing against his scruffy jaw. “Maybe… Boston?” you offered, the word feeling both foreign and perfect on your tongue.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his grin widening into something radiant. “I don’t care where we are, as long as I’m with you,” he said earnestly. Then, his tone shifted, a playful but serious edge creeping in. “But you know, we don’t have to wait.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, tilting your head in question. “What do you mean?”

Bucky’s hands slid to your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your sides as he leaned closer, his voice low and certain. “I mean, I don’t want to wait to start my life with you—our life. I think we’ve waited long enough. If we both want this, why not now? Time’s never on anyone’s side, and I don’t want to waste another second without having all of this with you.”

Your breath hitched at the raw truth in his words, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. “You really mean that?” you asked, your voice a shaky whisper.

He smiled, his lips brushing softly against yours before he pulled back just enough to answer. “I do. I just want to live my life with you already. So…” His eyes searched yours, his voice dropping to something intimate and vulnerable. “Boston?”

You felt the word settle deep inside you, grounding and exhilarating all at once. “Boston,” you whispered back, nodding as your lips curved into a smile.

Bucky’s grin returned, wide and boyish, and before you could say another word, he cupped your face and kissed you, long and sweet, as if sealing a promise. When he pulled back, his eyes shone with happiness. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I think I have some idea.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one lingering and slow. “Boston,” he murmured again, as if savoring the sound of it. “It’s going to be amazing, doll. Us, a house, a backyard…” His grin turned mischievous. “Maybe even a dog before the kids, huh?”

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly full. “One step at a time, Barnes.”

[sussysatann]

‼️‼️Solmare will no longer be updating Obey Me! & Obey Me! Nightbringer. ‼️‼️

They will release the final Nightbringer chapter and final app content this December.

Text reads as follows:

“Dear Denizens,

Thank you for playing and supporting Obey Me! and Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We would like to inform you of an important notice regarding the future of the games looking forward to 2025.

As Obey Me! celebrates its fifth anniversary and we continue to work to grow the series outside of the games, we have had to make the difficult decision to make December be our final new content for the Obey Me! and Obey Me! Nightbringer apps.

In addition to events, Chapter 60 will also bring to a close the story of Obey Me! Nightbringer.

From January 2025, we will be transitioning to a new era in Obey Me! with new forms of content, in-person events and merchandise that will all further the world of Obey Me!. The cards and stories you have obtained in both will remain available to you, and past events will continue to be periodically re-released.

We have exciting plans for the future of the series and hope that you will stay tuned for upcoming announcements.

All of us here on the Obey Me! team would like to extend our deepest thanks to everyone who has been with us since day one, who sought comfort in Obey Me! during the pandemic, who came out to see us at in-person events, who tuned in to the anime, Otaku FM, Boys in the House and character songs, and who joined us on this crazy journey from Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We promise you that this will not be the end of the seven brothers, the Devildom, or of Obey Me!

Keep an eye out for our full December event schedule which will be posted in-game and on social media shortly to see everything we have planned for the end of 2024.

Again, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

We'll see you back in the Devildom again soon - The Obey Me! team”

They also released a second statement relating to the announcement;

The text reads as follows;

“Thank you for enjoying Obey Me! Nightbringer.

We are sure that the previous news likely came as quite a shock, however, in order for you to fully enjoy December with the brothers, and all of the demons, angels, sorcerers, and reapers; we're bringing you the schedule of upcoming events.

We've got lots prepared, so we hope with all of our hearts that you will enjoy them.

•December Event Schedule

December 1 - December 31

Thank you all for supporting Obey Me! Nightbringer.”

[hrrtshape]

WHY YOU NEED TO STOP PUTTING YOUR DR ON A PEDESTAL; AN HONEST REALITY CHECK.

there’s a trap many of us fall into when we start exploring shifting. we paint our desired realities in the richest, most alluring colours, drenching them in perfection until they seem untuchable. we idealise them so much that they become glittering towers in the sky, places so divine that even imagining stepping foot in them feels unworthy. and here lies the issue: by putting your dr on a pedestal, you’re not making it feel closer or more real—you’re making it feel impossibly far away.

let’s talk about that pedestal.

picture this: your dr is a dazzling glass tower, shining under the sun, perched high on a hill. you spend every day staring at it, marvelling at its beauty, its magnificence, and its promise of joy. in your mind, it’s the place where you’ll finally be whole, where all the cracks in your current reality will be smoothed over. it’s not just a tower; it’s a sanctuary, a dream, and a destination all in one.

but here’s the problem. the tower is so high, so grand, that every time you try to approach it, the climb feels steeper, the air thinner. the more you idolise it, the more fragile and distant it becomes, like it’s made of something that might shatter if you ever got close enough to touch it. and here’s the truth no one wants to admit: the tower isn’t keeping you out—you are.

by building it higher and higher, by putting it on this untouchable pedestal, you’ve turned your dr into something you worship instead of something you live. shifting isn’t about staring at the tower from below; it’s about realising that the tower is already within you.

𖥻 IS THERE A DANGER TO THE PEDESTAL MINDSET?

when we idolise our drs, we unintentionally sabotage our ability to shift. we start believing that our current reality is inherently lesser, a shadow of what life could be. this mindset creates a wall—a psychological divide—between where you are and where you want to be. here’s the kicker: shifting is built on alignment, and alignment comes from balance.

if you see your dr as something so perfect that it feels worlds apart from you, how can you align with it? how can you step into the energy of your dr self when you’ve decided she’s a goddess and you’re just... you?

the more you idolise your dr, the harder it is to believe you’re worthy of it. when you put it on a pedestal, you start thinking, i’ll never be that confident, that successful, that happy. my life will only be good if i’m in my dr. but that’s a lie you’ve built to justify your fears.

your dr isn’t better than your cr—it’s just different. it’s another chapter in the book of you, not the entire story. by seeing it as this holy grail, you’re forgetting that you’re already holding the pen.

𖥻 THE PRESSURE COOKER EFFECT.

when you idealise your dr, you’re creating a constant, underlying tension in your life. it’s like saying to yourself, this reality isn’t good enough; i’ll only be happy once i’m in my dr.

over time, that mindset becomes suffocating. you start living in a pressure cooker of your own making. every time you wake up in your cr, even if it's variance differentiates in weather (because, after all, you shift in seconds). every visualisation that isn’t “perfect” sends you spiralling. and soon, you’re stuck in a loop of self-criticism, thinking: why can’t I just do it? what’s wrong with me?

this isn’t just about shifting anymore—it’s about the way you’re training your brain to respond to disappointment. you’re teaching yourself to tie your self-worth to your success in shifting, and that’s a slippery slope into anxiety, self-doubt, and burnout.

𖥻 THE EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER.

idolising your dr doesn’t just create pressure—it also messes with your emotions in ways you might not even realise.

⋆  PERFECTIONISM. you start obsessing over every detail of your dr, trying to script it perfectly, visualise it perfectly, and shift perfectly. but perfectionism is a breeding ground for anxiety.

⋆  DISSATISFACTION. your dr starts to feel gray and empty in comparison to the glittering lifestyle of your dr. even good moments in your current life might feel “meh” because they’re not dr-level exciting.

⋆  IMPATIENCE. shifting becomes the only thing you care about. you stop appreciating the present moment because all you can think about is getting to the “better” one.

⋆  BURNOUT. all this emotional investment takes a toll. you might find yourself feeling drained, unmotivated, or even resentful of shifting altogether.

𖥻 YES, YOU CAN LET GO OF YOUR CR. BUT NOT AT THE EXPANSE OF YOUR SANITY.

it’s true: shifting is all about focusing on your dr. you’re putting your energy into aligning with that reality, visualising it, scripting it, feeling it. but here’s where it gets tricky: if you try to completely ignore or resent your cr, you’re creating resistance.

imagine you’re running away from a place you hate. every step you take, you’re looking back over your shoulder, furious at where you are, desperate to get away. that energy is frantic. it’s messy. it’s like trying to light a candle in the wind—it won’t stick (sadly).

now, instead, picture gently turning your back on your cr. you’re not obsessed with it, but you’re not screaming “UGH, I HATE YOU!” at it either. you’re just walking toward your DR, eyes forward, calm and steady. that’s the vibe we’re going for.

𖥻 YOUR CR ISN'T THE VILLAIN IN THIS STORY.

your current reality (CR) isn’t some ugly, tragic prologue to the "real" story that starts in your dr. it’s part of your journey. every moment in your cr—yes, even the bad ones—is shaping you into someone stronger, more capable, and more ready to live the life you dream of.

when you dismiss your cr as nothing more than a waiting room for your dr, you’re rejecting the very tools you need to shift. your cr is where you’re learning the emotions, habits, and energy that make your dr possible. it’s the foundation of the glass tower.

yes, your dr is your focus. yes, your cr is temporary and, in many ways, irrelevant to where you’re heading. but here’s the key: if you let your cr control your emotions (even through hate or frustration), it’s still controlling you.

⋆  you don't have to love it.

⋆  you don’t have to obsess over it.

⋆  you just have to stop letting it hold emotional power over you.

when you’re in a toxic relationship, the first step isn’t to scream at the person and obsess over how much you want out. it’s to emotionally detach. you say, “this doesn’t serve me anymore, and I’m ready to leave when the time comes.”

𖥻 THE TRUTH ABOUT YOUR DR.

your desired reality isn’t perfect. that might sting to hear, but it’s true. there will still be challenges, still be tough days, still be mornings where you wake up feeling off. the difference is that your dr is scripted to match your deepest desires, so it feels more aligned with who you are. but even in your dream life, the human experience remains constant.

by putting your dr on a pedestal, you’re not preparing yourself for the fullness of that experience—you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. shifting isn’t about stepping into paradise; it’s about stepping into a version of life that feels more like you. you'll still have days where you're overwhelmed, disappointed, heartbroken.

think of shifting like holding a ball underwater. at first, it’s easy to keep it there. your doubts, fears, and this pedestal mentality act like weights, holding the ball just beneath the surface. but as you keep pushing, the ball starts to resist. you feel the pressure building. you can sense it wanting to break free, and you press down harder, thinking that control is the key.

but here’s the thing: the ball isn’t meant to stay underwater. the harder you try to hold it down, the more energy it builds, until finally—BAM! it bursts out of the water, faster and higher than you could’ve ever imagined.

that’s shifting. the more you force it, the more you struggle against its natural flow. but when you let go, when you allow the process to unfold with ease, the ball flies.

your dr isn’t something you have to wrestle with or control—it’s something you align with. stop forcing it. stop holding it down with expectations, self-doubt, or perfectionism. let the ball rise. let shifting happen naturally, as it’s meant to.

𖥻 YOUR DR SELF IS ALREADY YOU.

let’s get real for a second: who do you think your dr self is? she/he/they are not some alien version of you. they're YOU, but with a different body, a different set of circumstances. you can start embodying them right now.

do you think your dr self wakes up every morning hating their life? no. do you think they spend all of their time obsessing over where they're not? also no. they're living, thriving, existing. start doing the same in your cr. feel like them. act like them. love like them. it'll help in the long run.

when you embody the energy of your dr self in the present, you’re aligning with their frequency. and that’s when the magic happens.

𖥻 LETTING GO IS THE ULTIMATE MOVE.

when you stop putting your dr on a pedestal, everything becomes lighter. you're no longer holding a ball underwater, no longer climbing an impossible tower, no longer staring at a reflection that feels foreign.

you’re just... being.

and in that being, shifting happens.

𖥻 FINAL THOUGHTS: YOU ARE THE TOWER AND THE BALL.

at the end of the day, the pedestal doesn’t exist. the tower is already within you, built from your desires, your energy, your belief. the ball doesn’t need to be held underwater; it’s ready to rise when you are.

your dr isn’t out of reach—it’s just waiting for you to step into its rhythm. so stop idolising, start aligning, and let yourself live with the freedom of knowing that every piece of magic you’re dreaming of is already yours.

let the tower crumble, let the ball rise, and step boldly into the life that was always meant for you.

[moonmaiden1996]

Bound By Fate Chapter 7

I know I usually update on a Friday or a Saturday but I couldn't help myself. I am obsessed and this chapter has been my favorite to write!

Chapter 1,2,3,4,5,6

For the most part, in the coming days you’d managed to stay in the shadows, keeping out of the crew’s way as they took inventory and prepared the provisions you assumed were stolen goods from their latest raid. The scent of saltwater mixed with the sharp tang of sweat and the ever-present burn of tobacco that lingered in the air. It was a familiar, chaotic scene—one you’d long since grown used to. But then, the sound of footsteps behind you sliced through your thoughts, halting them in their tracks.

Beckman stopped a few paces away, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light. The steady rhythm of his boots on the wooden deck was deliberate, a cadence that commanded attention without a word. His eyes met yours—sharp, assessing—as if reading you like an open book with a single, piercing glance.

“Evening,” he said simply, his voice low, almost too neutral, but there was an undertone to it that you couldn’t ignore.

“Evening,” you replied, keeping your tone steady, despite the unease creeping up your spine.

He didn’t speak immediately, his gaze still fixed on you. His eyes were cold—like shards of ice—peeling back layers you didn’t realize were there. You felt exposed under that scrutiny, as if he could see straight through you.

Finally, Beckman took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up and dissolving into the cool night air. It hung between you, lingering like a barrier, adding to the stillness of the moment.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, his voice flat, but there was something else there—an edge, or maybe a warning. You couldn’t tell.

You shifted slightly, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Is that a problem?” you asked, your voice deliberately calm. Was he making conversation, or was there something more behind his words? You weren’t about to indulge him.

“Not yet,” he answered, his tone colder now, sharper. “Just an observation.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t one to speak without purpose, and this didn’t feel casual. His words were deliberate, measured—as though he was testing you in some way.

“If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” you said, irritation bubbling up despite your best efforts to keep it in check. You didn’t want to stand here in silence any longer, didn’t want to keep playing these unspoken games.

Beckman didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you as he took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with controlled ease. He spoke again, his voice deliberate and measured, each word like a stone dropped into water, rippling with consequence.

“You should stay close to the crew when we reach Westrow to restock,” he said, his tone casual, but the words carried unmistakable weight. “Shanks... won’t take kindly to you wandering off. You know he’s always watching.”

The words struck harder than you'd expected. Beckman didn’t need to say it, but you understood. Shanks wasn’t just protective. The way Beckman phrased it, it felt like a warning—like a promise that if you stepped out of line, there’d be consequences. The thought of being watched, of being kept so tightly under his control, made you feel small and trapped.

You nodded, throat tight, and for a moment, it felt like the whole air had grown heavier, more suffocating. You weren’t sure if it was Beckman’s words or the weight of the growing realization that something was about to shift—something you couldn’t control.

Beckman studied you for a moment longer, his sharp gaze still fixed on you, before he flicked his cigarette away into the darkness. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small leather pouch, tossing it toward you. The faint sound of coins inside rattled as it landed in your hand.

“Here,” he said, his tone unchanged. “You’ll need this. It’s for new clothes. Clothing tends to... disappear on a ship this size. One shirt looks like another. Least now you can get women’s clothes. Won’t be so many mix-ups in the laundry.”

The weight of the pouch felt heavier than the coins it held, settling into your palm with an eerie finality. It meant you were staying. Beckman’s words sank in slowly, and you felt the chill creep up your spine.

You swallowed hard, the urge to question him rising in your throat, but something in Beckman’s eyes stopped you. There was no room for defiance here. No space for argument. This was the way things were, and you were too small to fight it.

Beckman gave you one last, unreadable look before turning away, his boots clicking steadily on the wooden deck as he walked off.

“Stay with the crew,” he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying the weight of a final warning. “Shanks is... protective. You don’t want to see what happens when he feels threatened. Be on deck in five.”

The words hung in the air, thick with menace. Protective? It felt more like a cage—one you couldn’t escape from. Possessive, you thought. That was the word. And it suffocated you, tightening with every step. Honestly, you were surprised you could leave the ship, but if Shanks was always watching, what could you do? Where could you go?

xxxxxxxxxx

As you wandered the deck, trying to find some peace, you overheard the low hum of voices from a few of the crew members. Hongo, Lime Juice, Yasopp, and Lucky Roux spoke in hushed tones, but their body language gave them away. Their eyes flickered to you when they thought you weren’t watching, but as soon as you noticed, they quickly turned their gazes elsewhere. There was a tension between them, a silent understanding that didn’t quite reach you, but you could feel it, just beyond your reach.

You approached the railing, resting your hands on the cold wood. The rhythmic rocking of the ship beneath you did little to calm the unease coiling in your stomach. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him approach until his voice rang out across the deck, full of life.

Shanks’s laugh shattered the stillness, loud and carefree, a stark contrast to the knot of tension in your chest. He was at the center of a small crowd of men, his presence undeniable. As always, he radiated power, but tonight something about his laugh felt strained, like a mask hiding something darker underneath.

You didn’t know what to make of it. His fingers brushed against your arm in a casual touch, but there was something deeper there—something possessive. You shuddered involuntarily and took a step back, though you didn’t dare pull away completely. You couldn’t.

“We made anchor,” Shanks said with his signature grin, but there was something behind it—something off—that you couldn’t quite place. His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long. “Are you ready to disembark?”

Westrow. The word itself twisted in your stomach. You had no idea what awaited you there, but the idea of walking into it blind made you feel even more trapped than you already were.

You nodded, giving him the answer you knew he wanted. The one you had no choice but to give. You would follow him, just as you had no choice but to follow everything else.

The ship creaked as it docked at the bustling port of Westrow. You stood at the edge of the deck, your eyes scanning the town as the crew disembarked, the familiar hum of the market and the salty breeze from the sea mingling in the air. It was a town alive with energy—a far cry from the isolating weight of the ship. Shanks was quick to join the crew on the docks, his magnetic presence drawing attention, his laughter already rising above the sounds of the market.

You stood near the edge of the gangplank, hesitant to take the first step, but Beckman’s eyes lingered on you—silent but watchful. His presence always made you feel like you were being measured, even when he didn’t speak. The crew scattered quickly in all directions, their mission clear—to stock up on supplies. You were left to follow, keeping close to the familiar faces, the ones who didn’t look at you with discomfort, even if it was thinly veiled.

As Shanks turned to lead the way, you fell into line behind him. The others joined in, and you let yourself be swept along.

xxxxxxx

The marketplace was alive with color and sound, but to you, it felt like a maze of chaos—one where you were an unwilling player. The crew went about their business, laughing, haggling, and making deals that could just as easily be for treasure as for mundane trinkets. You kept your distance, walking a few steps behind them, moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd but never truly part of it. You were out of place in the frenzy, your body tense and on edge, trying to make yourself invisible.

Shanks had disappeared into the crowd, his absence like the silence before a storm. It never went unnoticed. You could feel the absence of his presence in a way you couldn’t explain—like an invisible thread pulling at you, always drawing your attention. You tried not to look for him, tried to ignore the gnawing sense of unease that crept into your chest every time he was out of sight.

You hadn’t intended to stop at the stall, but something drew you in. The vibrant fabrics, the colorful dresses, the soft texture of the material as your fingers brushed against them. The merchant, an oily-haired man with a lopsided grin, immediately took notice of you. His eyes roved over you, not with the curiosity of a typical merchant, but with something darker, more calculating.

"Quite the lovely lady we have here," he said, his voice smooth but laced with a familiarity that made your skin crawl. "Need help picking something special, love?"

You recoiled slightly, your stomach twisting at the unspoken implication in his words. You wanted to pull away, but he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His gaze traveled down to rest on your chest, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

"You’re the only woman aboard, aren’t you?" he mused, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Bet you’re a right little goer, especially to serve all those pirates. I imagine you could use some proper clothing. Something... more fitting for someone like you."

You took a small step back, but before you could retreat further, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a painful grip. His fingers were cold and rough, and his breath smelled faintly of stale liquor. "What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m sure we could work out a special discount," he purred, tugging you closer, his body invading your space.

You yanked your arm, trying to break free, but his grip tightened. "Let go," you snapped, your voice sharp, but he only smirked, unfazed.

"Oh, come on now," he laughed lowly, his eyes narrowing in a way that made your pulse race. "You don’t have to pretend. I know what women like you do on board those ships. Why don’t you let us landlubbers have a go... or maybe you need to be treated the way you used to."

The force of his words made you stumble back, but his hand was relentless, dragging you toward him. Panic surged in your chest, and you felt for the first time an electric charge sizzle under your skin—powerful, moving from a dull hum to a sharp, searing hiss. But before you had even a moment to think about your vibrating skin, his palm collided with your face in a sharp slap, the impact sending a jolt of pain through your skull.

The crack of the slap echoed in your ears. You felt the sting of it, your lip splitting open, blood spilling from the cut, warm against your skin. You gasped, taken aback, but the merchant didn’t release you. His fingers tightened around your arm, pulling you closer again, his breath hot on your ear.

"You’re just like the rest of them," he sneered, voice low and venomous. "All the same. But you’ll come around. You’ll see."

Everything felt blurry in that moment, the edges of your vision spinning with the sting of your split lip. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, a mixture of fear and fury, but before you could react, you heard it—like a distant rumble that sent a chill down your spine.

Shanks’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the noise. "What the hell is going on here?"

The merchant froze, his eyes flicking to you, then to the source of the voice. But the moment he smelled the blood, something in him changed. He didn’t release you. Instead, his eyes hardened, and his grip on you only grew stronger.

Shanks didn’t need to say another word. His aura alone sent a ripple through the crowd, sending the spectators crashing to the floor in unconscious heaps. His Haki. You saw it in his eyes—the shift from casual disinterest to something darker, something dangerous.

His gaze locked on yours for a moment, his eyes flicking down to your split lip, and the air around him seemed to crackle with rage. A growl rumbled from his chest, low and threatening, and you could see the change in him, the primal fury that burned behind his gaze.

"Let her go," Shanks’s voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable threat.

The merchant hesitated, his bravado faltering as he looked between you and Shanks. "I—I didn’t mean no harm," he stammered, his voice shrinking under the weight of Shanks’s fury.

"You did mean harm," Shanks snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "And you’re going to regret it."

In the blink of an eye, Shanks was on him. His fist blurred with movement, striking the merchant’s jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled back, crashing to the ground, but Shanks wasn’t done. His rage was unrelenting, each punch landing with brutal force, a fury unleashed with no intention of stopping.

"Shanks, stop!" someone shouted from the crowd, but no one could move. No one dared intervene. The force of his blows continued, each one fueled by the fury of someone who had just witnessed something precious to them harmed.

You stumbled back, shock flooding your senses as you watched the destruction unfold before you. The violence was raw, a side of Shanks you had never seen before, and yet, in that moment, you understood. You were his. To harm you was to hurt him, and that was something no one could get away with.

The chaos in the marketplace seemed to freeze. You tried to flee, to escape, but before you could make it far, two strong arms wrapped around you. You barely managed to gasp before you were lifted off the ground, carried away from the scene.

"Move!" Beckman barked, his voice commanding and cold. The crew parted like a wave, making way for him as he pushed through the stunned crowd. Hongo and Yasopp flanked you, their hands firm on your shoulders, guiding you away from the storm that raged behind you.

"We’ll protect you, don’t worry," Hongo murmured, his voice low but steady, his eyes glancing nervously over his shoulder.

But no matter how far you moved from the scene, the roar of Shanks’s fury followed you. Burnt in your eyes. His face was distorted, muscles bulging, staining underneath his skin, fist painted in blood as it repeatedly collided with something that was once a head. The violence echoed in your mind, the image of his rage still burning in your memory.  You were safe from the man but were you safe from Shanks?

Then, the roar came again—louder this time, deeper. "Get away from her!"

Shanks’s voice, ragged with anger and something else—something raw—cut through the air like a blade. Beckman turned quickly, stepping in front of you, his hand raised to block the approaching threat.

“No,” Beckman’s voice was sharp, filled with authority, unyielding. “You need to calm down.”

The two men locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was silence. No words, only the crackling tension in the air. Then Beckman spoke again, his tone colder than the chill creeping up your spine.

"You gave us an order, Shanks. The old order. Do you remember?"

Shanks’s eyes burned with fury, but there was hesitation in them. He was torn between the power he wielded and the depths of his desire. “Screw the old order. She’s mine. Give her to me!” His words were a growl, hoarse with longing and anger.

Beckman stood his ground, his gun now drawn, aimed directly at Shanks’s chest. “No one touches her,” he said coldly. “Not even you.”

The crew, ever loyal, moved to form a protective barrier around you, their faces set and unyielding. Yasopp, Hongo, Lime Juice—each of them standing between you and the storm that was Shanks.

“You gave us an order, Shanks,” Beckman repeated, his voice unwavering. “We’re here to protect her. Even from you.”

Shanks’s fists clenched. His anger burned bright, but for the first time, he seemed unsure of how to proceed. The crew had chosen their side. And it wasn’t his.

Hongo stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Time to go, let’s move."

And as you were guided away, your heart thundered in your chest. You could still hear Shanks’s voice, a fury like nothing you had ever imagined, but in the midst of it, there was one thought that clung to you like a shadow.

Please please please let me know what you think!!!!!

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST!

@commanderfreethatdust @hauntedluna

[yeokii]

DEJA VU ⏖ ꒪ 이희승

CHAPTER NINETEEN — ominous ass

warnings death threats !! WC ⎯ O.4K

You seem nervous. It had been the first time you were going to see Heeseung after you both briefly broke up over the phone. It wasn’t long enough to let the sting settle but still made you feel like you were seconds away from throwing up.

“Yn?” Heeseung called out to you, seeing you at the car park of HYBE where he specifically asked you to meet him at.

“Hi.” You let out a breath.

“I just.. need to talk to you.” He said, looking at all the different cars, and not sparing one look at your face.

“It was about time.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Yn listen, I’ve been thinking about us alot and alot of other things leading to our…break up and I realized how much I neglected you alot.” Heeseung looked undoubtedly worried, “ At the time, with the comeback and everything I got so frustrated I didn’t even know how to treat you right. You’re truly a great girl, Yn. And I think you deserve someone who doesn’t chicken out whenever the stress gets to him.”

You look at him for a moment. A part of your wanted to smack him for blaming all of this on his stress with the comeback and not even mentioning Julia. It was ridiculous. But that little wound which stung the moment you saw the face you used to adore so much had opened into a bigger one and the only thing running in your mind was to run to him and kiss him silly.

But you couldn’t.

He wasn’t yours anymore.

So then you asked him what was eating you for days.

“Did you really meet Julia that day?”

Heeseung finally met your hurt eyes, filled with tears. “Yes.”

“And..did you kiss her?”

Now he realized how much it hurt when he asked you that. The own girl that he called his, asking him the question he avoided from practically everyone else. And that look on his face alone gave you all the answers you needed.

You couldn’t say anything else. You just looked at him with a bittersweet smile and left the car park leaving his confused feelings stranded. But he knew one thing; he was sure he just lost his most adored girl forever.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 chapter eighteen ･ chapter twenty | m.list ★ !

YE0KII'S N0TE ?! I love this part

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© yeokii — do not copy, repost, translate any of my works on any platform

[misahyochaeng]

“C'est la vie”

Jihyo x Fem!reader.

Chapter 1-(?)

Other chapters here:

tw: angst, cursing, mentions of violence, NOT PROOFREAD.

—

Jihyo tapped her pen on her dark colored meeting table, she had her legs cross as she analyzed the company stat numbers on her file paper.

She found herself at a high-stakes meeting about the company’s flagship luxury brand. The company in financial trouble due to increasing competition, declining market share, and a terrible PR scandal that left the whole company in practical shambles.

She radiated authority, control, that’s all she needed—all she wanted in life, she bit on her customized pen as she stared at her workers who had fear in their faces. Almost like a bomb was about to go off in seconds, one of them spoke up.

“Ma-Ma’am, last quarter's revenue dropped 15%. At this rate, we won’t make it through the next fiscal year without drastic measures." they stammered, fiddling with their note pages and scribbling down rather stressfully, trying to scan Jihyo’s face for any sign of approval.

“Stop staring” she bit back at the worker “S-sorry ma’am..” they jolted as they put their head down in shame, shoulders hung low. “We’ll cut back on unnecessary expenditures. Focus on high-margin products and reduce reliance on underperforming lines.”

Yoo Jeongyeon, a close friend and other worker in the meeting stood up, a bit of authority in her words; she knew Jihyo, she knew how important the company was for her and how stubborn she was— she retorted in a scolding tone. “That’s not enough, Jihyo. The competition is eating into our market share. Investors want results.” she stared into her eyes, Jihyo’s darkened and narrowed, her patience was wearing thin.

Jihyo cursed under her breath, taking a heavy sigh before speaking up. “Then we remind the market who we are. Revamp the flagship brand. Launch a bold campaign that no one can ignore. If we can dominate the luxury sector again, we’ll be sure to pull through”— she bit the inside of her cheek.

Another worker interrupted, Sana, the company manager, almost like a relative to Jihyo, “How do you plan to finance this ‘bold campaign’? The bank rejected our last request for additional credit.” she used air quotes.

Jihyo clenched her fist, gritting her teeth as she spoke up, voice husky with annoyance. “Fucks sake, we don’t need them. I’ll negotiate with new partners.” her pen snapped lightly from the tight grip she had on it, the ink bleeding into her palm.

That’s when someone slammed the door open, “Jihyo-ssi… about that,” her mother walked in the room, the atmosphere growing even more tense. “What the hell are you doing here” Jihyo uttered with resentment “Have you been overhearing this entire conversation? This is none of your business.”

Her mother slid a file to her end of the table, “That’s not the point. I want to talk to you about that... There’s an alternative. We’ve been in talks with the Beaumont Group.” Jihyo’s eyes widened, she tried maintaining her compuse, not allowing herself to be vulnerable infront of anyone.

“The Beaumont Group? The one we've been competing with for years?” Jihyo’s eyes widened as she closed herself off more, the pen still staining her hand—a quiet mark of the decisions she could no longer avoid.

“They’re willing to partner with us... under one condition.” Her mother took off her sunglasses, i look of worry and slight guilt in her eyes, Jihyo knew something was off. “And what’s that?” her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

Her mother hesitated. "A marriage. Between you and Y/N Beaumont. It’s non-negotiable."

Jihyo stood up abruptly, the disgusting name leaving her mother’s mouth was her last straw, and knowing she’d had to marry that putrid woman made her blood run warm, the pen finally snapping in half, it fell to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You want me to marry someone for the sake of this company?!”

“This isn’t just about you, Jihyo. It’s about saving what your family built” Jihyo’s mother muttered, this time more sternly.

Jihyo sighed, her coworkers stared at the commotion in fear.

“Get out.” she mumbled as everyone stood still.

“Get the fuck out!” everyone picked their bags in a rush as the room fell empty little by little. Jihyo’s mother sat down next to her

“Listen to me…”

—

Three clicks of a camera.

Multiple flashes.

“Y/N over here!”

“Move your hands more to the side”

“Perfect!”

“You’re so beautiful, Ms. Beaumont! A true doll!”

You smiled, moving to your best angle, adjusting your head and giving a picture perfect smile.

“That’s it, Y/N! Hold that pose—turn your head slightly to the left. Perfect. You’re killing it!”

You shifted effortlessly, your chin tilting just enough to elongate your neck, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile. You knew you were untouchable—at least, you liked to think so.

From the corner of the studio, your manager—and childhood friend—, Momo, approached hesitantly, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The lines of worry etched on her face stood in stark contrast to the polished, almost ethereal scene before her. “Love, we need to talk, it’s important.”

You didn’t flinch. Eyes stayed locked on the camera as if her voice had no place in your world, “Momo, dear, can’t you see i’m a bit busy right now? Unless it’s about booking Paris, it can wait.” you said inbetween your smile.

“This can’t wait, Y/N-ie.”

The photographer lowered his camera, a hint of irritation crossing his face. "Can we get five minutes? You’re ruining the shot here, ass-face.”

“First of all, who are you calling Ass-Face?! It better not be her cause the only ass-face you’re getting is yours when you see your paycheck after this shoot, cock sucker.” You exhaled sharply, the sound of your frustration cutting through the studio hum. With a flick of the wrist, you waved off the crew and turned on your heels, the hem of your gown trailing behind you like a stormcloud.

"Fine. Five minutes, Momoring, what is it?."

You said as to stepped off the set, towering in stilettos, every inch of you still radiating the effortless control of a goddess. Yet, as you faced Momo, the faintest flicker of annoyance darkened your expression.

Momo hesitated, looking anywhere but directly at you. She ran a hand through her hair, the tension palpable. "Your parents have been in talks with the Park Family. They’ve come up with a... plan to strengthen both families’ positions."

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “What kind of plan..” a pit grew in your stomach as your anxiety grew. “An arranged marriage. To Park Jihyo."

For a moment, you blankly stared, the words sinking in like a hollow stone dropped into a body of water. Then, you laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the studio like glass shattering. "You’re joking, Momoring. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard." you slapped her shoulder playfully.

Momo didn’t laugh.

"You’ve met Jihyo before. At the charity gala last year."

Your laugh cut off abruptly. Eyes narrowing as the memory surfaced—Jihyo, stiff as a board, barely speaking, radiating cold disinterest; that was until the most expensive luxury piece of her brand snapped off your neck, falling to the floor and shattering in pieces. The argument you had blared your ears, and tears swelled in your eyes as you thought about it again.

"Oh, that Jihyo. The one who spent the whole night glaring at their phone and avoiding eye contact, until i ‘broke’ her shitty brand necklace!? You’re telling me I’m supposed to marry them? I didn’t even fucking break it!!" Your voice cracked slightly at the end, the weight of the word "marry" pressed down on you like a stone.

Momo tried to speak up, a hand caressing your side to comfort you, "I know this isn’t what you want, but—"

"What I want? You think I want any part of this? I don’t even know them, Momo!"

You ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of you that even Momo looked startled.

"Y/N, this is bigger than you. It’s about your family, your legacy—"

You pulled Momo close, going to whisper in her ear, voice breaking slightly, "It’s always about them, isn’t it?" Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out your body. For once, you didn’t have a quick retort or biting comment. You looked down at your shaky hands, noticing the faint smudges of makeup from touching your face, you wiped them on your gown without caring.

"I need a minute." Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back to the set. The photographer called out to you, but his voice barely registered. You slipped back into position, forcing a smile onto your face. The camera flashed, capturing her perfection.

But in that moment, you felt anything but perfect.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 10

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: FLUF, Smut!

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter is the FINAL chapter. I’ve loved creating this story with @cheekygirl2309. I’ve had so much fun and enjoyed reading all of the love and support for this story. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few months were so amazing. Jensen was true to his word and invited Josh’s parents to every big event we had. I was grateful they came and felt like they were family. Jazzy was also so proud of her new last name. 

When we went to the school to change her name, she proudly announced she was an Ackles. The secretaries smiled and congratulated her. In public she would introduce Jensen as her daddy. Since our engagement and the adoption, social media had exploded with stories and pictures of all of us. 

Jensen and I officially went public and most of the fans were supportive. I did my best to tune out the negative and focus on the positive ones. It was hard at times, but I knew I had Jensen to help navigate me through it. 

Jensen and I talked about the wedding and we both agreed we wanted a small, intimate ceremony with just our children, close family and friends. Since Jensen officiated his wedding, Jensen reached out to Jeffery Dean Morgan to officiate ours. He was thrilled to do it. I was excited to meet him and his family. We had FaceTimed, but never met in person. 

Jensen and I also wanted to write our own vows. It took me by surprise when he mentioned it. I was nervous, because how do you really put into words how someone saved you when you thought you weren’t worth saving. I love Jensen, and I only hoped I could put it into words good enough to show him how much he means to me. 

Our wedding date was set, we were going to have a Spring wedding. Mid-April, at dusk, and hopefully under a tent. I of course told Jensen we needed a backup plan in the event of rain. “It’s Texas sweetheart, I don’t think it’s going to rain.” “Still, I’d like a backup plan.” I chuckled.

“Okay, how about we have it at The Allan House, right here in Austin? It has space inside and out. So if we have to move it inside we can still have it in the same place. The ceremony and reception can all be there.” He pulled it up on the computer and the photos were breathtaking. I smiled, “Jensen, it’s beautiful. Do you really think we can book it?”

“Absolutely, I know the owner, so I’ll give them a call.” I playfully rolled my eyes, “Of course you do.” Jensen laughed and called. When he got off the phone he smiled, “We’re all set, sweetheart. Are you ready to start planning our wedding?” 

I smiled and pulled him in my arms, “Yes, Jensen! I’m more than ready.”

*Time Jump 3 days before the Wedding*

“Jensen, I need to go with Gen and Nichole to pick up my dress. When is Jeff coming in again?” “He should be here today. His wife and the kids will be coming in tomorrow I believe. He’s going with me today to get fitted for his tux. I gave the tailor his measurements, so I hope it fits.” “Me too, Jens. Okay, I’ll be back later. I love you.” “I love you too, the kids are going with mom and dad for the afternoon, so when you get back they won’t be here.” 

I grabbed my stuff and nodded. As I got to the door I heard Jensen clear his throat. “Did you forget something, darlin’?” I turned on my heels and chuckled, “Nope.” I said, popping the “p” as I leaned in and kissed him goodbye. “How could I ever forget kissing you. It’s one of my favorite things to do.” 

Jensen chuckled, “Oh and what are some of your other favorite things to do?” I smirked, got really close to his lips again and said, “you”. Then kissed him again. He grabbed my hand as I tried to pull away, “Then what’s stopping you?” Jensen pulled me flush to his strong body and I felt his arousal straining against his jeans. 

“Baby I have an appointment at the dress shop. I don’t want to miss it, unless you want me to get married naked.” Jensen wiggled his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes and playfully hit his chest, “Jens, I’m not getting married naked. Sorry to disappoint you.” Jensen threw his head back and laughed. 

He kissed me again and we said our goodbyes. 

I arrived at the dress shop with a few minutes to spare. Gen and Nichole were waiting outside for me. They hugged me and we walked in. “Y/N! So happy to see you. Your dress is ready. Are you ready to try it on one last time?” I smiled and nodded. 

Gen and Nichole sat on the couches and waited for me. When I came around the corner both of them gasped and I saw tears in their eyes. Sally, the owner, walked behind me and fluffed the dress as I stood on the platform. “Okay, Y/N, one last touch.” She placed a veil on my head. I took a deep steady breath looking in the mirror. I looked over my shoulder at Nichole and Gen with tears in my eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Jensen isn’t going to know what hit him.” I stood there looking in the mirror and the realization hit me. I was about to get married to Jensen and I had nobody to walk me down the aisle. 

Tears started to fall. My mother had passed away not long after Josh, and my father left us when I was two. Nichole rushed to my side and pulled me close, “Shh, it’s okay sweetie. You have me, Gen, Jared and the kids.” “I know, and I love you all so much. I just don’t know how I’m going to walk down that aisle alone. My mom walked me to Josh.” 

She pulled me tight, “I can do it if you want me to.” I smiled, “I know, but I need you standing up there with me and making sure Jensen doesn’t pass out.” We all three laughed. Gen was by my side too, “Honey, you’re one of the strongest people I know. You can do this. Jensen, all of your babies and all of us are there with you and for you. You know Jared would walk you down the aisle if you wanted him to.” 

I nodded, “Yeah, he offered, but I don’t want to take him away from Jensen. He needs his brother by his side. Okay, enough of this crying. Let’s get me out of this gorgeous dress and you two into yours.”

I changed into my regular clothes, while Gen and Nichole got into their dresses. When they came out they were absolutely breathtaking. “You two are so beautiful.” Nichole squealed when she realized the dress had pockets, “Y/N! Look! It has pockets.” We all laughed, “Yep, I made sure they did, and so does mine.” 

With our dresses in hand we headed out to get some last minute things for the wedding. Gen was keeping my dress at her house so Jensen wouldn’t see it, and I already had the kids’ outfits for the wedding. The girls were wearing matching dresses and Zeppelin was wearing a tuxedo that matched Jensen’s.

Jensen and I selected Navy blue, white, and gold as our wedding colors. The main colors being blue and gold. My dress was white, and the back opened into a beautiful navy blue that ran the length of the dress, and around the top of the bodice was blue. The girls’ dresses were navy blue, with white flowers on the skirts. Jensen and Zeppelin were wearing navy blue tuxedos, and his groomsmen were wearing grey. 

As the day approached, my nerves were starting to get the better of me. I thought about my wedding with Josh and how I was so nervous before, I actually threw up in the bridal suite. I really hoped this one would be different.

*Wedding Day*

I woke up early, stretched and reached for Jensen out of habit. My heart faltered a little when my hand hit the empty bed. He stayed with Jared last night. We decided we wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony. I was so excited to see his reaction when he turned around and saw me at the other end of the aisle.

I got out of bed, showered and went downstairs to a note on the counter and an artificial rose. I knew that handwriting from anywhere, it was Jensen. I smiled because I knew he snuck in last night after I went to bed to leave this for me. 

I opened the note and smiled as I read it.

My love,

Today is the day we promise before our family and God to be together forever. The road that led us here was bumpy, but we got through it together. I can’t wait to see how beautiful you’re going to look in your dress. I know you’re going to take my breath away, like you have since the day I met you. I love you, darlin’, until that rose I left you dies. I’ll see you later, beautiful.

Love,

J

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text.

Me: Thank you for my wonderful surprise this morning. I’ll love you until the rose dies too. 

Jensen: I’m glad you liked it. I love you so much baby.

Me: I love you too, handsome. I can’t wait to see you in your tux. You know what it does to me, and wait until your fans see it. They are gonna go feral. 😘 🤤

Jensen: Ha! They go feral over everything.

Me: Of course they do, have you seen you?!

Jensen: Every single day in the shower. 😉

Me: Oh you’re so mean. Now I can’t stop thinking about you naked.

Jensen: Then mission accomplished. 😂 

Me: Okay, Mr. Ackles, you’re going to pay. 

Jensen: Ooo how?

Me: *1 image sent* this is what I’m wearing under my dress

Jensen: Damn baby. Now that’s mean. I can’t wait to take that off of you. 

Me: Patience my love. Just think the whole time I’m standing next to you, dancing, we’re walking around, that is what is under my dress. Just waiting for you.

Jensen growled and adjusted his pants when he read what I wrote. 

Jensen: You’re killing me.

Me: Oops, sorry baby. 😘 I love you, I need to get ready to leave or Gen and Nichole are going to drag me out of here. 

Jensen: Yeah, Jared is banging on the door. I love you too baby. See you soon.

Gen, Nichole and I arrived at the Allan House to get ready for the wedding. Jensen’s mom had the kids, and Josh’s parents were there to help with them too. My hair and makeup was done. I wore my hair half up and half down, with ringlets cascading over my shoulders. 

Jensen was across the property in the groom’s suite when there was a knock at the door. Jared opened it and saw Bill. “May I come in?” Jared stepped to the side. Jensen was in his tux and turned to shake Bill’s hand. “Bill, thank you for being here with us today. It means so much to Y/N and I.” 

“You’re welcome. Jensen I wonder if I could talk to you in private for a minute?” “Of course. Jared, can you give us a minute?” Jared nodded and left the room. “Bill, you wanted to speak to me? Is everything okay?” “Oh yeah, everything is perfect. Y/N is like a daughter to me, us. Even before she married Josh she was part of our family. When she married Josh and had Jazzy we felt on top of the world. After Josh died, a part of her died with him, but she kept that sweet, caring heart we all loved so much. We were so thankful when she met you and fell in love again, and even more thankful you were willing to have us in your lives. We can never repay you for that, son. Jensen, Margaret and I would like you to have this. I wore them when I married Margaret, and Josh wore them when he married Y/N. We want you to have them so when Jazzy gets old enough you can give them to her to use in her wedding.” 

Bill handed Jensen a small box, when he opened it there were beautiful gold, sapphire and diamond cufflinks. “Bill, these are beautiful, I can’t take them. They belong in your family.” Bill placed a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, “Son, you are family. They belong with you and Y/N.” “Bill, I’d be honored to wear them, thank you, sir.” Jensen and Bill exchanged a hug as he took the box. 

I was standing in the bridal suite taking deep breaths, looking at myself in the mirror when there was a knock on the door. Nichole answered it and when I looked up I saw Margaret and Bill. “Wow, sweetie, you’re stunning.” Margaret said as she pulled me into a hug. 

Bill stood to the side and just looked at me. I took a deep breath, “Do I look okay?” I asked him. He stepped forward, “Sweetheart, you’re even more beautiful than the day you married Joshua. Jensen is a lucky man.” He hugged me and I felt the tears burn the back of my eyes. 

It was a few minutes until the ceremony started and I still felt a pang of sadness about walking down the aisle alone. Jensen’s mom and Margaret got the kids in place, Gen and Nichole got in place and I took one last look in the mirror. 

Bill was standing at the door waiting for me. “You okay, kiddo?” My eyes flicked to him and he saw the tears in mine. He pulled me in a hug, “Shh, you’ve got this sweetie. That man out there is in love with you and I know you two are going to be incredibly happy.” I nodded. Then it hit me. I might not have grown up with a father, but I had a dad and he was standing right there with me. 

“Bill?” “Yes, sweetie?” “If you say no it’s okay. I completely understand, but would you do me the honor of walking me down the aisle?” “It would be my honor to do that.” I nodded, he took my arm and we walked outside. 

The sun was just starting to set, so the twinkle lights under the tent were sparkling with the orange glow from the setting sun. It was breathtaking. 

I heard the music start for the kids, Gen and Nichole. Then came my music. Bill took my arm and we walked out and around the corner. Jeff motioned for everyone to stand. 

Jensen turned around and locked eyes with me. I saw tears in his eyes. I walked down the aisle, my eyes never leaving his. Trying to steady my breath, because damn did he look amazing in his tux. 

At the end of the aisle, Bill hugged me, and gave my hand to Jensen. He shook Jensen’s hand and then hugged me again. Nichole fluffed my dress and I handed her my flowers, taking both of Jensen’s hands. 

He leaned over and whispered, “God you’re so beautiful.” I smiled. 

Jeff began the ceremony and it was time for our vows. Jensen went first. "The day I met you, I knew I had found something special. You were hurting, scared, and alone. I vowed to protect you, to love you, and to give you the happiness you deserve. I promise to always be your rock, your confidant, and your love. I'm grateful for the chance to be a part of your life. You've brought light into my world. You've shown me the meaning of unconditional love. I promise to be the best husband and father I can be. I'll always be there to support you, to encourage you, and to love you. Together, we'll build a future filled with love, laughter, and happiness. I'm so grateful for the chance to love you and our daughter. You've given me a reason to live, and a purpose. I promise to always be there for you, to provide for you, and to protect you. I'll cherish every moment we share, forever. I love you, Y/N."

My breath hitched, as the tears pricked my eyes. Then it was my turn. "When I first met you, I was lost in a storm. You were the lighthouse, steady and strong, guiding me to safety. You didn't just take me in; you welcomed me and my daughter into your heart. I promise to love you, cherish you, and honor you always. Thank you for being my hero. You saw me when I couldn't see myself. You loved me when I thought love was a distant memory. You're not just my partner, you're my protector, my provider, and my best friend. I promise to be the best wife and mother I can be, to love you unconditionally, and to build a beautiful future together. I've found in you a love that's rare and true. You've shown me what it means to be loved and cared for. I promise to be your constant, your support, and your joy. Together, we'll face whatever life throws our way, hand in hand. I love you, Jensen.”

Jeff smiled and Jensen nodded at him, “Jensen and Y/N have also written vows to their children, which they will say now. 

Jensen began, "Jazmyne, I promise to always be here for you, to love you unconditionally, and to guide you on your journey. I promise to be a loving and supportive dad, and to always be there to listen and to help. When you came into my life I had no idea what was missing. You and your mom were the missing pieces in my life. I will spend the rest of my life being the dad you deserve, and helping guide you through life’s trials, and love you until all the stars fall from the sky.” Jazzy leaped in his arms and held him tight. “I love you too, daddy.”

I took a deep breath and looked at JJ, Arrow and Zeppelin. “JJ, Arrow and Zeppy, I promise to always be a source of love, laughter, and support for you three. I'll be there for your triumphs, your setbacks, and everything in between. We will tackle it all together. I vow to honor the bond you share with your dad, and the love and bond you had with your mom. I am extremely honored to be a part of your lives, and to watch you grow. I’ve loved you three since the beginning and I’ll love you three until all the stars fall. Together the six of us will be a family and will always be there to take care of each other. I love you three so much.” They hugged me tightly, “We love you too.”

When I stood up, Jeff smiled. “Jensen, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” 

Jensen looked at me and smiled, “I do.” Then Jeff turned to me, “Y/N, do you take Jensen to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” I looked at Jensen and smiled, “I do.” 

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jensen, you may kiss your bride.” Jensen pulled me flush to him, leaned me back and kissed me deeply. Cheers and applause erupted. When Jensen pulled me back up we turned to face everyone. “It is my honor to announce for the first time, Mr and Mrs Jensen and Y/N Ackles.” 

Jensen, and I took each other’s hands and walked down the aisle together. We walked into the bridal suite to wait for photos. Inside Jensen closed and locked the door. 

He walked over to me and pulled me in for another deep kiss. He pulled away and looked at me, “You are absolutely breathtaking, darlin’. Are you wearing that thing you sent me under this?” He tried to pull my dress to the side and I giggled. “Yes I am, but you’re going to have to wait to see it. If you mess up my hair before pictures, Gen and Nichole are going to kick your ass.” 

He pulled me flush to his body, “Worth it.” I giggled as he started to kiss down my neck. I moaned as his hands started running up and down my body. Jensen’s hands slid down to the bottom of my dress and lifted up my skirt, revealing the dark blue lingerie I was wearing. 

Jensen bit his lip and growled. “Damn baby, this is beautiful, but definitely in the way.” I grabbed his hand, and that’s when I felt the cufflinks. “Jens, where did you get these?” “Bill and Margaret gave them to me. They wanted me to wear them when I married you, because you’re like a daughter to them.” I nodded, “That’s so sweet, Jens. These look like the ones Josh wore.” “That’s because they are, sweetheart.” I gasped, “Oh wow.” 

There was a knock on the door. It was Gen telling us it was time to get pictures taken. After pictures, it was time to enjoy the reception. We danced, ate, drank and had so much fun. 

As the night wore on the kids were starting to get sleepy. Jensen’s parents were keeping the kids for the night so Jensen and I could be alone. We had decided instead of a honeymoon with just the two of us, we were going on a family moon and taking the kids with us. We were leaving in two days, so Jensen and I had two days alone.

It was time for Jensen and I to leave the reception. Everyone lined up with sparklers and created an arch for us to walk under. When we got to the end, I turned around and hugged all of the kids and told them good night. Jensen helped me into Baby, and then walked around and slid in the driver’s seat. 

He took my hand in his and kissed it. “Ready to go home, Mr. Ackles?” “You better believe it, Mrs. Ackles. I can’t wait to get you out of that dress.” 

I chuckled and bit my lip. My body tingled with anticipation of what was to come. 

Jensen pulled into the driveway and walked around to my door. He opened it and offered me his hand. When he pulled me out of the car he pulled me flush to his body. His lips hovered over mine. I could feel his hot breath on my lips. I swallowed hard, my heart beating wildly in my chest. 

Jensen kissed me softly and took my hand, leading me to the door. Opening the door, Jensen looked at me, scooped me up and carried me over the threshold. “Welcome home, Mrs. Ackles.” He gently put me down and closed and locked the door. 

As soon as the door was locked, Jensen’s lips and hands were back on me. He kissed down my neck and to my cleavage. I tilted my head back and let out a moan. “Jens, please.” 

Jensen took my hand and led me upstairs to our room. He moved my hair to the side and started to unzip my dress. I shivered when his fingers brushed against my skin. When my dress was unzipped I let it fall at my feet. 

Standing before my husband in the navy blue lingerie I had on under my dress. Jensen bit his lip, “God this looks better in person. I am one lucky man.” I blushed.   

Jensen started to take off his tuxedo. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him strip. My thighs clenched together when he was down to his boxers. My hands ran up his toned chest and into his hair as I stood to kiss his lips. 

I could feel his arousal through the thin material of his boxers, and my arousal soaking my panties. 

Jensen laid me back on the bed, pulled me down to the side and threw my legs over his shoulders. He unsnapped the bottom of the lingerie, exposing my dripping core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked.” I bit my lip and nodded. He kissed up my thighs and when he got to my pussy he slid his fingers inside. I gasped at the sudden feeling of fullness. Jensen hooked his fingers up, and his mouth attached to my clit. He sucked and licked, pushing me closer to the edge. My hands gripping the sheets and then his hair. I threw my head back, moaning and begging him not to stop. 

“Oh fuck, Jensen! That feels so good. Don’t stop.” This encouraged him to go faster. I bucked my hips into his mouth. He sucked my swollen clit as his fingers continued pumping in and out of me, deeper and deeper. 

“Jens..I’m…gonna…cum..oh fuck!” I moaned and pulled his head into my pussy. I felt the sting of his beard rubbing on my sensitive skin. I came hard with a loud scream of his name. Jensen kept going, and as my legs tried to close, he held them apart. I came again without warning. My body is sensitive and overstimulated. I screamed his name again. 

Jensen finally leaned up, my release covering his face. He hovered over me and placed a kiss on my lips. I tasted my release and deepened the kiss. Jensen leaned up and removed his boxers, his cock pink and wet with precum. I leaned forward and took his cock in my hand. Guiding it to my mouth. I began to suck him down deep into my throat. Jensen hissed when I sucked him into his balls. 

“Oh fuck, baby! Just like that.” I continued to suck him. My hands gripped his thighs as I took every inch of him in my mouth. Jensen’s hands went into my hair and began to push my head onto his cock. 

“Yes, baby. Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours. God, you feel so good.” The sounds of his moans and me sucking filled the room. Jensen’s breath ragged. Then he pulled me off of him.

“Jens, what happened? Did I hurt you?” Jensen cupped my face, “No darlin’ that was amazing, but if you kept it up I would have cum down your throat and I want to make love to my wife tonight.” 

I smiled and nodded. He laid me back and crawled up between my legs. “You ready baby?” I nodded. Jensen took his length in his hand and lined himself up. With one thrust he bottomed out. Both of us were moaning as he filled me up. He stopped and allowed my body to adjust to his size. 

He always stretched me in ways that had my head reeling. He began to move. His movements, slow and deliberate. He was making love to me, without hurrying through to get to his release. 

His lips trailed over my body, our fingers finding each other and interlocking as he held my hands down on the bed. Our bodies moved together in slow, deliberate motions. My body was filled with desire, love and bliss. 

“I love you, Jensen.” I whispered. “I love you too, Y/N. So much.” 

“I want you on top, baby. I want to see your beautiful body.” I nodded, Jensen pulled out and laid down. I climbed on top, lined him back up and took him back inside. I placed my hands on his chest to steady myself. I began to rock my hips back and forth. 

Jensen’s hands held onto my breasts as I continued to ride him. He was in so deep I could feel his cockhead hitting my cervix with each thrust. I rocked my hips and bounced faster. Something ignited in Jensen, because he lifted his legs up, held onto my hips and began to thrust up in me. His thrusts grew faster as his moans became louder. “Oh fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. I’m gonna cum, baby.” 

“Yes, Jensen! Cum in me, fill me up with your seed.” A few more thrusts and Jensen was grunting, spilling his hot seed inside me. I could feel his cock twitch inside me. When I felt him stop, I climbed off, went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I came back with a washcloth and started to clean Jensen. Since he was extra sensitive he took the cloth and cleaned himself. 

When he was done he threw it to the side and pulled me close to him. Jensen cupped my face and kissed me deeply. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for coming into our lives, loving us and becoming my wife. I love you so much baby and I promise you I will love you until the end of time.” 

I smiled softly and looked into his green eyes so full of love, “I love you too, Jensen. Thank you for loving me and Jazzy and becoming my husband. I’ll love you until the end of time.” 

Jensen pulled me close to him, grabbed the blanket and put it over us. “Good night, darlin’.” I laid my head on his chest, “Good night, baby.” The two of us drifted off to sleep thinking about how an unexpected friendship could lead to this beautiful family and incredible love we created together.

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[moonchild9350]

Lavender Fields-Chapter 2: Observation

Summary: Your journey continues, this time with a new technician Hyunjin. You meet him for the first time, and he introduces you to something new while explaining how things will go from here on out.

Pairing: Hyunjin x humanoid fab!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, sci fi au, romance au

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: verbal/physical violence, mention of blood

Notes: the second chapter is here! Writing some of this made me feel fuzzy inside hehe

Taglist open-comment or message me to be added! (age must be in bio or pinned)

Series Summary: You, a humanoid from a different planet, was born within a lab here on earth in the near future, your days filled with servitude and testing within the labs to learn more about your kind as your kind are not able to feel emotion. you had nothing to look forward to until you met Hyunjin, a technician assigned to you. you learn much at his hands and invaluable lessons, enlightening your once purposeless life.

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, or repost elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Series Masterlist

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Hyunjin sat in his office, thumbing through your file as he nursed a cup of coffee. It was early in the day, the other orderlies and technicians slowly arriving after him.

Your file wasn’t big as you mainly kept to yourself, following whatever orders you were given. He turned page after page until he got to your story, his eyes raising at your traumatic beginning here on earth.

Hyunjin drummed his fingers on the desk, his mind racing. Is this how all of your kind started here on this planet? Born in captivity essentially and ripped away from your mothers at such a young age?

He felt his eyes sting, tears forming in the corner of his eyes at the thought. However, he must stay focused. He needed to come up with a game plan for your sessions.

He decided to make today easy, starting off your relationship by simply meeting each other. He had special permission to use the facility as he sees fit and he definitely intended to do so.

Sighing, he closed the yellow file and gazed upon your picture on the cover. He frowned as he took in your face, expressionless, but if he took a closer look, he could see melancholy in your eyes.

Taking a final swig of his coffee, he set his mug down and stood up, straightening out the lab coat he was wearing. He carefully stored your file away, placing it on top of some other important documents in his desk drawer.

Today begins your new journey he thought. Hopefully a good one at that.

--

You awoke with a start, gasping as your eyes snapped open. You stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths as you cleared your mind.

You seemed to have been awoken by a dream, images of Raoul dancing around your mind as he screamed at you. You yawned and rolled over, pulling your blanket closer to you as you had every intention of going back to sleep.

However, not even a second later, a lady’s voice resounded on the loudspeaker, signaling it was time to wake up. You stared at the wall for a moment, a heated feeling within you as you realized you’d be getting no more sleep that day.

Sitting up, you stretched, the pull on your muscles nice after being cramped up in a curled position all night. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you pushed yourself up, blinking away the rest of the sleep.

You continued your routine, making your way to the dressing rooms to change, to the rec hall where you ate breakfast, and then onto completing your tasks for the day.

Following the orderly, she guided you to the laundry room, the scent of fresh soap permeating the air. You breathed in the scent, your body relaxing at the scent of lavender.

You were led to the clean clothes, the orderly ordering you to separate the clothes and sheets and fold them.

You began your task in earnest, a strange feeling bubbling within at the feel of the soft fabric against your skin. Your quickly fell into a trance, as you rhythmically folded each gown and each sheet carefully and neatly.

There was silence in the room, no one daring to talk with the orderly pacing the room. However, you were so engrossed in the work in front of you, you didn’t catch the glances your peers threw you, their eyes wide as they watched you work.

Time passed and before you knew it, the buzzer resounded over the speakers, signaling work time was over. You carefully stacked the clothes you had finished folding, dusting your hands off on your dress.

You were about to follow the others out of the room when Raoul entered, his gaze trained straight on you. He walked with purpose as he pushed your peers out of the way to get to you.

As he approached, his eyes narrowed and he reached out to grab your arm, his fingers tightening around the flesh.

You winced at the pain, your eyes wide as you stared at the man in front of you.

“You’re coming with me,” he sneered pulling you after him, causing you to trip over your feet.

You followed the man, wondering where he was taking you. You passed corridor after corridor, the people you passed glancing after you both.

Raoul finally stopped in a narrow hallway pulling you in with him so no one could see. Raoul stared at you with furrowed eyes, his grip tightening so hard you could feel thousands of little zaps of pain shoot down your body.

You stared at the man in front of you, your heart beating faster by the second. You felt hot and clammy, something telling you within to run. You were unsure of this feeling so you just stood there frozen.

“You little shit!” Raoul spit in your face, as he dug his nails into your arm.

“You think you’re something hmm? Think you can get away from me?”

Get away from him? Think you’re something? What is he talking about? You frowned, your brain a jumbled mess as you tried to make sense of his words.

Raoul continued to dig his fingers into your arm so hard that trickles of blood started to drip from the wound. He looked down at the liquid that stained his fingers and scoffed.

“Look at that seems like you do bleed, just like us.”

You winced as he twisted his fingers in your arm, your eyes darting to your wounded limb and then back to his face.

“You haven’t seen the last of me, don’t worry y/n.”

He said this in such a dark tone, you tried to step back unsure of why you wanted to turn on your heels and run. Before you could do anything you would regret, an orderly passed by, shock plastered on her face.

“Ahh perfect, Grace! Please take y/n back to her room please until her next session and dress her wound. Seems she got hurt.”

The orderly whose name seemed to be Grace nodded and motioned for you to follow her. You ducked slightly and scampered away from Raoul to the safety of Grace.

You both walked to your quarters quietly, other orderlies nodding at Grace as they passed by. Once at your door, she pressed a white key on the keypad, the silver box turning green in acceptance.

She ushered you in and stepped in behind you, softly closing the door. Gesturing for you to sit, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a blue item that looked almost like a pen.

“Let me see your arm dear,” she said, reaching her hand out for you.

You presented your arm, watching as she examined the wound. She tsked as she shook her head.

“You need to be careful around that one.” She said, her voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“No worries though dear, your new journey starts today,” she said, her mouth turning up and her teeth showing.

You felt yourself relax in this woman’s presence, her words and tone posing no threat. She clicked a button on her pen like item, the object emitting a series of beeps. Once it quieted, she pointed the item at your wound and pressed the button again.

You felt a warm sensation underneath your skin followed by a rippling sensation, almost as if there was something crawling there.

Your eyes widened as you watched the puncture wounds slowly close up and disappear until your skin was blemish free and clear.

“There, all better,” Grace said, storing her pen like item back in her pocket.

“You’ll have to stay here until your sessions I’m afraid,” she said as her eyes turned downcast, “someone will come get you.”

At that she turned on her heels and walked away, shutting the door softly behind her. Once she was gone, you sat frozen on your bed.

You knew what the sessions were, having attended them daily since you could ever remember. However, what did she mean this would be the start of a new journey?

You got up and started to pace, putting one foot in front of the other counting one, two, three, four, five, until you reached thirty, just to turn around and repeat the same process.

You paced the floor you’re not sure for how long until you heard a beep, your head snapping up to look at the door.

The door opened and a man dressed in a white coat walked in. You eyed him as he came to stand in the center of the room, a smile on his face. His hair was pretty, the brown waves settling nicely on his face. His eyes seemed to sparkle as they took you in, a little brown mole perched perfectly beneath his eye.

“Y/n?” The man asked as he looked at you.

“Yes, that’s me,” you slowly responded as you stood in front of the man.

“My name is Hyunjin, I will be your technician going forward,” he said gently, the smile returning to his face.

You stared at him for a while, unsure what to say. Even though Raoul hurt you, he’s still your technician and you’ve grown used to him and his antics. A thought flashed across your mind, wondering what happened and why you were assigned a new technician. Maybe that’s why Raoul pulled you aside earlier today.

“Y/n…?” Hyunjin asked.

He was cautious, making sure he did not scare you. Yes, your kind didn’t have emotions but he knows you know what fear is as Grace noticed it on your face when she caught you with Raoul.

Hyunjin wanted to make sure you perceived no threat from him as he wanted this to be a positive relationship. He watched as your eyes refocused, almost as if you were elsewhere.

“Yes…, nice to meet you,” you politely said.

You watched as Hyunjin pulled out a folder, opening it to look at something before closing it back.

“Well, shall we proceed?” Hyunjin said, gesturing toward the door.

You nodded and followed him out of your room and down the hall. You both walked in silence, but you were attuned to his steps, they almost sounded more gentle than your previous technician.

You arrived at the labs and expected to settle in one of the rooms, however, Hyunjin continued to walk. You hesitated for a moment before scrambling to catch up.

Hyunjin looked over at you, smiling as he noticed the expression on your face.

“We’re going to try something different today. I’ll explain more once we get to our destination.”

You nodded and continued to walk until the hall ended and a door appeared. You watched as he put in a code, listening to the beep as it was accepted.

Hyunjin pulled on the handle and what was beyond slowly appeared. You had to shield your eyes as a bright but warm light started to filter into the hallway, blinding you for a moment. You hadn't noticed, but you had moved to hide behind Hyunjin, his body shielding you partially from the light.

He chuckled and lightly placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the world beyond the door. You noticed your eyes getting used to the light, the feeling warm on your skin.

You looked down to see if anything changed, but noticed your skin looked the same as ever. As you walked, you didn’t know where to look, trying to take in your surroundings as best as you could.

It seems that you were in a dome, the clear covering spanning from one end of the room to the other. The light was shining through illuminating everything within. You looked ahead and saw an area with a green floor, orderlies and technicians leisurely sitting around.

Hyunjin guided you to a spot on the green floor, smiling as he sat down on a blanket that had already been placed. His smile remained as he watched you sit, your eyes continuing to roam the space you were in.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Hyunjin said, gesturing around the room. “This is the atrium, where we come and take our breaks.”

“Atrium?” You responded, cocking your head to the side. “ you looked to the ceiling and pointed , “and is that…”

“Yes, y/n, that’s the sun and this all around us is the grass.”

You read about the sun and grass in some of your books, but you had never actually seen them. You looked up at the ceiling, your eyes on the blue beyond. If that big ball of light is the sun, the blue expanse must be the sky.

You stared, your mouth open as you continued to look up. You held your arms out, allowing the sun to beam down on you. Your eyes closed, your mouth turned up as you felt the warmth on your skin. You relaxed further, you body slightly slouching as you felt relaxed, the tension leaving your muscles.

Hyunjin watched from next to you, smiling as he watched you experience the sun and sky for the first time. He could tell you were enjoying it too as a look of happiness was on your face.

As he gazed at you, he couldn’t help but take in your face, completely unblemished, to your long eyelashes that graced your pretty eyes. Your brown hair seemed lighter in the sun, the locks shiny as they rested on your mid back.

“Y/n?” He whispered, not wanting to completely break you out of your reverie.

You opened your eyes and stared at him, the orbs shining in the afternoon sun.

“Yes?” You responded softly, leaning forward slightly so you could listen closely.

“Is this too much? I know it can be overwhelming to experience such a thing as this when you’ve been inside your whole life.”

You considered his words, your eyes taking in his facial expressions. He had a frown on his face as he watched you. You’re not sure how you knew, but before you could stop yourself, you reached out to lightly touch his hand.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping your hand on his.

“Good! I’m so glad! I hope you like it. I thought it would be good to let you get some sunlight.”

You stared at Hyunjin, listening to his words as he pulled a basket closer to the center of the blanket. He opened the lid, peeled back a checkered towel, and began to pull out assorted foods.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking up to see your response as he continued to pull food out of the basket.

You were hungry, as you skipped your normal lunch time since your wounds were being tended to. You felt your mouth water at the sight of the delicious sandwiches, fruits, and cookies that were now laid out on the blanket.

“Go on, pick whatever you want and dig in,” Hyunjin said, grabbing the sandwich that was closest to him.

You hesitated for a moment, as you’d never had the opportunity to pick out your own food before.

As you eyed the sandwiches, Hyunjin watched you, taking a bite of his own. He knew you’ve never been able to have the freedom of choice, always being given your food, drink, and clothes. He smiled as you picked up a ham sandwich, decked out with lettuce and tomato.

You both ate in silence, listening to the quiet chatter of those around you as they enjoyed their breaks. You felt warm with the sun beating down on you, the feeling not unpleasant.

As you ate, you stole glances at Hyunjin, studying his every move. He seemed ok, better than Raoul. He filled the time with chatter, asking about what your hobbies were, in which you couldn’t answer, not understanding what he meant.

He seemed to be thinking at that before clearing his throat and rephrasing his question.

“What do you do when you’re back in your room?”

Your eyes widened at the question as your heart beat faster.

“I read sometimes or draw. I also paint. I’m painting what’s called lavender fields on my wall now.”

“Lavender fields?” He questioned.

You shook your head yes. “I like the flowers…at least that’s what the book called them.”

Hyunjin nodded, fascinated by your choices at spending your time alone. He knew you were different but you had to be smart too and just not understanding the potential you had.

“I will have to see your painting one day,” he told you smiling.

He took a moment to pause, his brow furrowing in thought. You wondered if he would continue or if he’d send you back inside. You were growing rather fond of the sun, sky, and grass, the scenery much better than the drab, gray walls inside the lab.

“I suppose you want to know the plan going forward correct? Well as I stated, I’m your new technician. I will be handling all our your sessions from now on. I thought we’d take a different approach, something you might enjoy instead of sitting at a table going over cards everyday. You seem too intelligent for that.”

He paused to make sure you were catching on, smiling as you nodded that you were with him.

“We will start session one tomorrow. I won’t go over what we’ll discuss. I’ll let that be a surprise ok?”

“Ok, understood.” You replied as you sat straight up.

“Oh! Another thing. You don’t have to be so formal with me ok? Let’s speak normally as you would with friends.”

“Friends?” You questioned, unsure at what he meant.

“Ahh we’ll get to that another day,” he chuckled running his hand through his wavy hair.

“I guess it’s time to get you back, it’s getting late.”

Hyunjin stood up and reached for your hand so he could help you up. You accepted his help and stood, dusting off your dress in the process.

You followed Hyunjin away from the sun, away from the sky, away from the grass, back into the dark space of the building you grew up in. You felt a heaviness on your chest and water prickle your eyes.

Hyunjin noticed and frowned, “don’t worry, we’ll be back.”

You shook your head understanding. You just met him but something told you within that he would bring you back.

You followed him down the winding corridors until you reached your door. Hyunjin keyed you both in. The room that once was somewhere you liked seemed gloomy as the four walls enclosed upon you.

Hyunjin watched you from the door before saying goodnight, carefully shutting the door behind him.

You stood in the middle of the room for a moment, just breathing as you blinking away the water from your eyes. You carefully reached up and dabbed at the liquid, bringing it to the front of your face so you could examine it.

You curiously stared at it, wondering what it meant. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but your mind seemed to have flipped since experiencing the sun, sky, and grass.

You smushed the water between your fingers, flicking it away as it spread on your fingertips. You began to get ready for bed, feeling sleep threaten to take over any moment.

You crawled into bed, your head lying onto the soft pillows. Your mind immediately went to Hyunjin, remembering how he looked sitting beneath the sun, as he gazed at you.

Hopefully your session tomorrow would be different as Hyunjin said.

For the first time in your twenty-five years of life, you fell asleep with the thought of wanting to start a session now rather than wait until the next day.

And that was definitely different.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @frehyun @seungminsbest @nightmarenyxx @linocvp1d @ddroh @redlightsallnight @eastjonowhere @stayjinnie @techsgoggles @puccaaak @krayzieestay @skzfelixlove @amenabiii @qwonyoung23

[darlingshane]

lavender haze

Julian Kaye x F!Reader

Summary: Julian needs to decompress and decides to take his friend's offer for a massage at one of her parlors.

CW: +18, explicit, sex work, reader is an escort, massage parlor, massage with happy ending, hand job, fingering, making out, cuddling.

Word Count: 4,7k

— Links: AO3 // Julian Masterlist

It used to be unthinkable to Julian to seek the kind of services he used to offer. He never thought he could relax enough to let someone else care for him the way he cared for his clients. But when push comes to shove, he has no other choice but to consider other options to get rid of all that tension that had been accumulating in his body.

Everything should've been easier once he was exonerated, but nothing is ever as simple. The second he was out of prison, the world seemed to turn on him once more. The past kept crawling back to ruining his life in ways he hadn't expected.

Now that messy chapter is closed, it's the perfect time for some self reflection and care before figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. And what better to clear his mind and gain some perspective than to take on his friend Diamond’s offer for a special treatment at her parlor with one of her best workers—you.

After careful consideration, he picks up the phone and sets up an appointment.

He never really thought of him as a rub and tug kind of guy, but he’s more than willing to try. Though as a client himself, he isn't sure of what he wants at the moment. All he knows is that he needs to decompress and relax.

In plain sight, between a clothing store and hair salon, sits Diamond's Den, his friend's place; one of the three different businesses she owns. This one in particular is her most recent venture that is reserved for a more upscale clientele. Unlike other illicit massage parlors, this one looks like a legit spa when he walks in—zen music, cucumber water, calming colors on the walls of the reception.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The lovely receptionist greets him when he approaches the desk.

“Hi, I'm Julian. I have an appointment at 5.”

She glances at the screen of her computer to confirm it in the schedule.

“Julian Kaye?”

“That's right.”

“Take a seat, please.” She gestures at the waiting area, two seats are already occupied by men in suits glued to their phones. “Someone will come get you in a moment. Do you want a drink? We have juice, coffee, tea, and water.”

He could use something stronger, to be honest, but he chooses for a cup of coffee to sooth the unexpected jitters in his stomach.

While he sips on his drink, he watches the receptionist make a call and a couple of minutes later, a different woman comes to fetch him, holding a folder in her arm.

“You're Diamond's friend, right?” She makes some small talk while she guides him down the hallway to one of the rooms.

“That's right.”

“Well, aren't you lucky?” She remarks with no sarcasm whatsoever as they come to a stop in front of door number nine.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that not many people get a Diamond discount right off the bat. She must really love you.” She produces a file from the folder she's holding. “Here's the girl she's picked for you, but if you want someone different, we have a couple of other people available. Men, women… whatever you're in the mood for.”

He opens the file to be greeted by a few pictures of you, all printed on one side of the sheet. From top to bottom, like a gradient, they go from you dressed in elegant clothes to lingerie to fully naked in the final row. According to your asking price, you're not just an escort, you're a high class escort, which is not something he's sure he can pay for at the moment.

“She's perfect,” he says timidly, without taking his stare from your picture. There's one in particular where you're laughing softly that catches his eye.

“But?”

“I can't afford this.”

“Julian, honey, I told you that you got a Diamond discount. That means you have an hour free of charge to do whatever you want. Then we’ll only charge extras if you go over that hour, okay? Didn't she tell you?”

He shakes his head. “No, she didn’t mention that.”

“Maybe she wanted to surprise you. How about we go inside, shall we?” She reaches for the handle and shows him into a deluxe room that carries the same colors of the reception and hallway. There’s a window covered by opaque blinds, the lighting is darker and warmer from the array of candles set up. There’s a bed neatly made up, a massage table in the middle of the room, a love seat under the window, a set of wooden cabinets with a tray holding a pitcher full of water and two glasses. On the side, there's a second door leading to an adjacent bathroom.

“Just sit and relax. We’ll take good care of you, hon. Okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles nervously as he hands the file back.

“Oh, there’s a form right there,” she points to a small table on the side of the couch. “Fill it out so she can have a picture of what you want, but you can always negotiate more later with her face to face.”

“Yeah, I know how it works.”

“Right. I’ll take this. Hot drinks are not allowed in the rooms.” She collects his almost emptied cup of coffee from his hand. “I'll send your girl right over.”

“Thanks.” Julian tucks his hands in the pockets of his blue slacks as she disappears, closing the door behind her.

He walks around the massage table twice, taking a good second look around the room before sitting on the love seat. From the side table, he picks up the clipboard and pen at hand. He reads every option and question on every page thoroughly. He starts with the questions that are meant to gather information about his health, STDs, allergies, etc., and others regarding his limits. Julian leaves that last one unanswered for now. Then, there's a list of standard massages that range from Swedish to Thai. He chooses the full body aromatherapy massage with a happy ending. After that, there's an extensive list of options, listed as extras, that are only available via tips. They go from something as mild as kissing to anal play to fantasies to very specific fetishes. It feels like picking toppings for a pizza, and he's not sure what he's in the mood to eat. But he ticks a few boxes–touching (the masseuse), kissing, nail raking, cuddling. He also gets to pick up the order. He puts massage first and cuddles at the end.

A soft knock on the door to announce your entrance pulls his stare away from the paper to see you entering the space with that same relaxed smile he saw on one of the pictures. You're wearing a satin, short robe in your favorite color that barely covers the top of your thighs, and a pair of stilettos that click on the wooden floor as you walk up to him. He's struck by your beauty as you get closer to him. The pictures really didn't show how stunning you look up close with minimal makeup.

“Hi, Julian, I'm—” you introduce yourself, offering one hand up. “How are you doing? Hope I didn't make you wait too long.”

He stands up and shakes your hand firmly. “I'm good, thanks. And you were right on time, I was just finishing with the form.”

“Oh, I'm glad.” You collect the clipboard to survey his choices. These are pretty tame compared to the filthy things you've done in this room, which is refreshing to see. You are hardly ever asked to cuddle a guy like Julian.

“Is there anything wrong, sweetheart?”

“No, everything's perfect, hon. You were pretty thorough.” You nod, quickly going over the form again, concocting a picture of what he wants in your mind. According to his answers, it looks like he just wants the girlfriend experience, and that’s what he’s going to get.

“Do you have any questions for me before we start?”

“Hm,” he pauses to think for a beat, tapping quickly the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger. “I was just wondering if you still get paid for this session even if I don't pay?”

It makes you smile to see how considerate he is. Diamond told you Julian was a dream of a guy with a big cock, but you thought she was overselling it. You stand corrected for now, you'll find out in a few minutes if she's right about his size as well.

“I am fully compensated. Don't worry about it. But to be fair, I wouldn't mind going pro bono for a guy like you.” You throw in a wink in his direction.

Flattered, he laughs softly, hanging his head down.

Once all the formalities are done, you ask him to go into the bathroom to freshen up and change, and that's what he does. There are a couple of hangers to hang his suit and shirt, and a robe and matching slippers for him to wear.

When Julian comes out of the bathroom, you've taken off your robe, and have set the lights to a dimmer shade. Your back is turned to him, and he can't help but admire your body hugged in a sexy lingerie set made of lace that leaves nothing to the imagination. It really highlights the beautiful shape of your body as you lean over the table, extending a clean towel on the surface. Then, you adjust the height of the table to the perfect reach for you to do your work before noticing he's come back into the room.

“Would you like some water?” you pick up the pitcher and fill up both glasses.

“Sure.”

You both take a good sip before getting right down to business.

As he faces the table, you stand behind him to take off his robe. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you undo the knot of the belt and gently peel it off him. He steps out of his slippers and lies on his front on the surface per your instructions. You miss an opportunity to get a peak of his front when you place his robe on the couch and produce a bottle of essential oils from the cabinet.

“Do you like lavender, honey?”

“Yeah, I like lavender.” He clears his throat as you watch him adjust his face in the hole at the head of the table.

“Would you like me to play some music?”

“No, I like it like this. I’d prefer to hear your voice.”

Smiling, you glance at the clock on the wall.

“Alright, your hour starts now.” you inform him, gently placing your palm on his shoulder. His skin is already warm at first touch, you can't help but let your fingers glide down his spine before pouring some oil into the mix. “If there’s any place you want me to focus, just tell me or direct my hand where you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

With practiced ease, you gently stroke his back with both your hands, spreading the oil across the breadth of his shoulders before kneading deeply his muscles that feel so firm but tense under your palms. You go down slowly from his upper back to the lower. You rake your nails here and there per his request. It’s no challenge for you to get the muscles in his back to slack gradually under your care.

Julian watches your feet as he looks down at the floor when you move to undo all the knots on his shoulders and arms. He finds himself grunting deep in his throat when you find a way to tame all that strain that nestling in his shoulders.

“Do you mind if I ask you to take off your shoes, sweetheart?” He mumbles under his breath in an attempt to bury one of those groans in his chest.

“You forgot to add foot fetish to your list?”

“No, nothing like that,” he scoffs. “I just want you to be comfortable, too.”

Aww.—You think as you free your feet from your high heels.

“You’re a big softy, you know that?”

“I try.” He smiles to himself as you change positions to go down his spine to take care of his lower back.

When you’re done with that area, you let your palms draw the curve of his firm ass. His skin is as smooth shaven as the rest of his body. You stroke his buttocks firmly before moving further down his legs. You can feel his body finally buzzing when you oil those terse muscles on the inside of his thighs. It’s known to be one of the most erogenous zones on the body that’s often overlooked, and almost every man who has laid on your table has had a similar reaction. Some might have even come in that position before feeling your hand around their dick, but you can tell Julian isn’t nearly there. You tuck your fingers higher up his groin and gently caress his balls that tighten up in your hold. You don’t go too strong yet, cause you don’t want him to promptly ejaculate like all those men that have no self-control whatsoever. There’s nothing that pleases you more than to make them enjoy themselves for as long as possible, but sometimes they don’t even give you the chance.

Leaning over his body, you pepper some kisses along his spine at the same time, getting his skin to rise into goose flesh at the touch of your warm breath.

“God, sweetheart, that feels amazing.”

You hum against his skin as your lips reach the back of his neck.

When you release his scrotum, you finish the rest of his legs to the end of his feet. It’s then that you take a quick glance at the time to make sure you don’t either rush it or prolong it too much before getting to do all the things that he wanted. It’s been twenty minutes so far, which is perfect, you can spend another twenty on his front and the remaining time to make him come, if he hasn’t yet, and to bathe him with cuddles.

Per your asking, he flips over on the table where you can finally take a good look at how well he’s packing on the front. His semi hard gives you a generous half-mast salute from the carefully manscaped landing of his pubic hair.

You don’t usually salivate at the sight of a client's body or dick for that matter. They’re all the same to you, a business transaction, but there’s something special about Julian that makes you swallow at the thought of putting him in your mouth. Containing yourself from doing so, you draw a breath and start at the head of the table. You focus on the array of tattoos he has all over his torso and shoulders to concentrate on the job and not whatever is tingling between your legs.

“Close your eyes, honey,” you whisper, hovering over his head as you start massaging his temples down his face and neck. Your fingers softly stimulate the muscles of his features, and they can tell he has a good skin routine. Though he has a set of pockmarks on one of his cheekbones, they’re definitely well cared for.

As you reach under his chin, you lean closer to place a kiss on the bridge of his nose that is followed by another one at the tip. You feel his face tightening as his mouth draws a smile.

“I’m going to kiss you on the mouth now, are you okay with that?”

He put kissing on the form, but you rather ask permission again before doing something that could make him uncomfortable.

Julian’s eyes blink open as he says softly, “sure, sweetheart, go ahead.”

With your face upside down, like in that old Spider-Man movie, you delicately plant your lips on his, pressing your nose to his chin. It’s not an easy maneuver to kiss in that position, but you manage to pull it off with his help. His mouth opens, and you gently nibble his bottom for a moment before sticking your tongue out. He hums deliciously against your mouth when the tip of your tongue finds his. Slowly playing, you feel a shiver course down your spine that seems to run between your legs at its own volition to awaken your own arousal. You have a good self-restraint, you'd say, but sometimes you can't help it. In your line of work, it's bound to happen.

Julian tastes delicious in your mouth. As your tongues swirl gently together, you send your hands down his chest to massage his torso at the same time. His pecs are beautifully molded like valleys under your palms. His abs are sculptured to near perfection. And the lines that draw a deep V on his lower abdomen are something surreal.

When you part, you glance down to see that he's fully hard now. Pleased with your work, you move to the other side of the table and massage the front of his legs. It greatly excites you to have him under your spell like that. You slather some more oil in your hands and watch him lose his mind as you yet touch every inch of his body without paying attention to his swollen erection. When you look at his face, you capture the deep shade of pink that has taken over his lips. His brown eyes glow under the candlelight in ten different shades of lust. And when you glance down at his center, his dick twitches against his abdomen as you stimulate that muscle again in his inner thigh.

Your bare feet move closer to the middle of the table, and lean your hip on the edge of the table.

“I'm gonna touch your dick now,” you tell him. His head urgently nods as he mumbles a ‘please’ under a shallow breath.

You place your hand on his stomach and smooth down his skin before curling your fingers around his hardness. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you watch him struggle to keep his breathing even. He's a damn sight better to see him squirming on the table when you start ever so slowly to pump his length. He fills your fist very generously. It feels like a task for two hands instead of one, but you keep that option for later.

You use the drops of his pre-cum emerging from his slit to up the pace just a little. He has to brace his hands to the edge of the table to keep his orgasm at bay now. It's easy to tell by the way he throbs against your palm.

Focusing on him only, you ignore the impeding arousal staining the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Fuck,” he grunts, extending a hand to grip at your thigh. “Get on top of me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t have to ask you again. You climb onto the table and straddle his lap without taking your hand off him. You place yourself as close as possible to his center, so the first curled around his cock grazes your panties as it goes up and down his shaft.

Bracing one hand to his chest, you bounce and up and down on top of him, as if you were fucking him, upping the pace a little more.

Julian grips your hips hard, helping your moves.

“Take off your bra for me,” he orders, and once again you obey to his wishes, using your free hand to undo the clasp at the front so it can fall down your shoulders and uncover your tits.

One of his arms hooks around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He tilts his head so he can suck your nipple between his teeth. You're practically grinding almost directly against him now, you can feel both your fist and the end of his dick pressing against your pussy.

You love the way he grunts and moans around your tit as you take him closer to bliss. He’s so close to the edge, you can feel it in the way he thrust wildly in your hold.

“Come for me, baby,” you moan as his teeth press harder around your nipple. The sensation makes your core scream from the inside, and you wish you could have your own release. But this is not about you. It’s only about him, you remind yourself, but it's your own excitement that carries him over the edge with the powerful force of your adamant pumping. His whole body trembles like an earthquake between your legs. The vicious grip of his teeth dig deeper on your tit, making you moan. And his hands are promptly clutched to your skin the moment his orgasm erupts to the surface, forcing all his seed to come out in hot spurts all over your hand and his abdomen.

You lean your forehead against his, as you exhale the warm breathing of his panting as he comes down slowly from that high. Your clean fingers caress his hair while his body goes limp on your table.

Once he can finally move, you clean your hand in the towel below and help him stand up to have him lay on the bed so you can cuddle him properly. He buries his head in your chest while you wrap your arms around him and keep playing softly with the hair at his nape.

“Shit, I'm so sorry I bit you,” he says once he comes to his senses, pulling his head slightly back to study the mark he's left around your nipple.

“It's okay, hon. I liked that. You better than anybody know that sex can be unpredictable, you can't negotiate every little thing beforehand. And believe me, I would have stopped you if I wanted to.”

“I'm sure you would've.” Grinning softly, he uses the tip of his finger to ease the mark of his teeth. Then, his stare goes up to look at you as he says, “you're gorgeous, you know that?”

“C'mere.” Cupping his face in your palms, you pull it closer so you can capture his mouth. Slowly, you savor the bittersweet taste of coffee lingering on his tongue while his limbs tangle with yours. He tucks his leg between your thighs, and you can't stop tour hips from grinding against his taut quads.

Upon him noticing your eagerness to rub yourself against him, he moves one hand to hold your ass, pressing you harder on his leg.

“Do you want me to make you come, sweetheart?” He parts slightly to ask.

“You don't have to, Julian.”

“I wanna,” he purrs over your lips. “Would you let me?”

“Okay.”

“How would you like me to do it?”

“Surprise me.”

“Yeah?” the corner of his mouth draws a mischievous grin as his hand invites itself under the lace of your panties.

Your folds are practically soaked when his fingers stroke your lips. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours to watch your face change when two of his fingers slip smoothly inside you. They're dexterous and determined on giving you a release. Your hips slant when they press a little harder on your g-spot, coaxing your juices to drip out of you as his thumb finds your clit. An obscene moan escapes your mouth as he suddenly up the pace of his thumb, glued to your clit.

“That's it, sweetheart. Show me what you got,” he glances down to observe your body wildly squirming, aching for a release.

You clutch your hands to his sides as a bubbling fire surges from your core when your orgasm scratches the surface. Your legs clamp, trapping his hand that has stopped moving as you ride up the unexpected tide of ecstasy that courses through your body. You close your eyes for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of your release as you come down from your orgasm.

Julian kisses your face sweetly before seizing your mouth. It's now him who's snuggling you, keeping you anchored as you recover.

You find your hands laced together, fingers playing softly on their own, as if you had done that a million times before. It's a strange feeling you've never felt in this room before. It's overwhelmingly sweet and confusing. This is how you're supposed to make clients feel, not the other way around, but Julian is not just like any other client, he has the same skills as you do, and you figure he tapped into those by default.

Relaxing in each other's arms, you stay in comfortable silence for a while, letting the shared touches do the talk. He figures out one of your favorite spots to be touched is the back of your nape, his fingers slide into your hair, and you almost melt at the nice massage he provides.

At some point, you start asking him about the array of tattoos that adorn his body, and he tells you each story behind them. It prompts a longer conversation, talking about life and business, and by the time you look at the clock again, you've gone almost a second hour over his time.

You don't charge him the extras, it feels like you've both serviced each other somehow, but he tips you anyway.

It's been a few days since he went to the parlor, and Julian hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. Maybe it's years of lack of affection, but he can swear there was a spark between you and him that he can't explain. He longs night after night; unable to get rid of the feeling of your hands on him, the shape of your smile, the sound of your voice in his ear, or the way that you sounded when he made you come. It's all condensed in a mystifying lavender haze that reminds him of the oil you used on him that clouds his better judgment.

Once it's clear he won't be able to move on unless he contacts you somehow, he decides to pay Diamond a visit. She's overseeing her other location at the motel, and they have lunch together in a small diner nearby.

“Are you going to tell me what we're doing here, J?”

“What? I can invite an old friend to lunch?”

“I'm not that old. And I'm not that dumb, either. I know something is going on. Are you in trouble again?”

“No, nothing like that,” he scoffs, and pauses to garner the courage to ask. “I was just wondering if you could give me her number.”

“Her number? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You know, the girl you set me up with the other day.”

“Oh my God, you can't be serious. Tell me you're joking, Julian.”

“I'm not.” He shrugs. “Look, I just thought we had something and wanted to see her again.”

“Have you forgotten how this works? That's her job, to make you feel like you're the most special thing in the world. Why do you think I sent her?”

“Please, D? Do it for me.” He tilts his head like a puppy dog. “You don't have to believe me or understand it, but I need to know if she felt the way I did. Just one call. I won't bother her if she says no. You know me.”

“Don't look at me like that.” She leans back on her side of the booth, unable to deny his request. “Okay, fine. I'll ask her if I can give you her number, that's the best I can do. If she's okay with it, then you'll have your answer.”

“Thank you. You're the best.”

“Hm-hmm.” Diamond side eyes him as she pulls her phone from her bag to text you.

They finish their lunch and as they head out the door, her phone chimes. She casually glances at it and leaves him hanging for a moment as he walks her back to the motel.

“Was that her?”

“It was.”

“You like torturing me, don't you?”

“I don't like it, but I enjoy it sometimes.”

“So, are you going to tell me what she said or not?”

“She said you can call her. I'll send you the number.”

“She did, huh?”

“Don't act so surprised. You and I both know you can charm anyone. You’re dangerous, Julian Kaye.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“You still owe me a foot rub, motherfucker.”

“Well, make that two,” he locks an arm around her and he kisses her cheek.

— credits: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 4)

Contains: rape, non-con, virginity loss, smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, crying, aftercare, incest, highly abusive behaviour

Read with Caution!

Wordcount: ~3.99k

Masterlist of this story

Maera whimpered and looked down to her uncle, which made her snap back to reality and her stomach turned.

This was so wrong and everything felt so surreal that her head burned like it was on fire. Her surroundings moved and turned and Maera wished she could simply fall asleep and dream until this mess was resolved.

But Daemon took the sound as a sign for her pleasure and smirked against her core.

"I knew you'd break, sweetling. I knew you just needed me to tame this little cunt. So sweet and innocent… gods be good."

His eyes rolled back at her taste and then Daemon slowly slid his finger in her hole which made Maera jolt on the bed. She was clenched and tight and closed because of the intrusion.

"Relax, Maera. I don't want to hurt you.", Daemon said and held her hips down as he had sensed the way she shifted and tried to escape from his hand. "Just breathe. Breathe and relax your muscles."

She didn't know what to do. Yes, she didn't want this to hurt either but Maera felt like the more she let him do and gave in, the closer he got to claiming her. And also she just didn't want to make her uncle feel like she had broken and wanted him to take these actions.

"N-No.", the girl sniffed but Daemon's finger stayed inside the warmth of her hole while his tongue continued its patters over her nub.

"It's only gonna be worse if you don't relax. Breathe. Come on."

And so Maera closed her eyes in desperation but concentrated on exhaling while she felt the muscles in her core loosen. That led to the pain fading away until the stretch was almost nonexistent and Daemon saw it in her reaction.

"Good girl. You see? Everything is gonna be alright if you just listen to me and obey your uncle."

With these words Daemon started to slowly move his finger inside of her and scissored her open for him all while keeping her pearl stimulated so she would concentrate on the pleasure rather than the pain from spreading her open. Soon the rogue prince added a second finger which brought his niece a sharp pain in her core and her face ashened as she tried to push his hand away.

"Shhh, Maera.", he soothed her and sucked her pearl between his soft lips which made her legs tremble. "Yeah that's right."

Daemon worked his two fingers into her cunt until she felt so full, she wondered how she would ever be able to take his cock. She didn't want to think about it though because the thought made the knot in her stomach tighten with fear. The assault continued and Daemon's tongue flicked her bundle of nerves faster until Maera felt a tension in her thighs that seemed to enhance with time. Her toes curled and sweat covered her forehead which Daemon noticed with a content smirk on his face.

"You're going to finish for me, little kitten? Gonna soak my face?"

She didn't know what her uncle was talking about but she couldn't fight this overwhelming feeling that sneaked up on her until she felt like her body was falling apart and a wave of relief washed over her. It felt good and exciting and for a moment it felt like she was flying on a cloud. Maera couldn't stop a whine from leaving her mouth and then she suddenly felt so exhausted that her previous tensed and stressed body relaxed and she was sprawled out underneath Daemon.

He had observed the effects of her high and his tongue hadn't left her pearl. He devoured her taste, collected her arousal on his tongue to swallow it with relish and then finally pulled his fingers out of her hole which made Maera sigh out. She had expected him to be finished with eating her cunt now but without a warning Daemon's mouth came down to her pearl once again. The little bundle of nerves was so overstimulated, so reactive to his touch that she squirmed and shifted, everything to get away from him.

"You're gonna give me another one, little girl.", he said and it didn't sound like a question at all. Nevertheless Maera answered with shivering lips.

"N-No. Please no."

"Yes, you are. You're mine, sweetling. And if I want you to come then you will."

She let out something that sounded like a pleading curse but Daemon didn't pay any attention to it. He just took her pearl between his lips and softly sucked on it while his hands held her down.

"You're all mine, Maera. Mine to ravish and to pleasure the way I want to. And you're gonna come for me as many times as I want to."

The girl whimpered and closed her eyes like he would vanish if only she didn't see him. But of course Daemon didn't and instead drove her closer and closer to her second release. He used his tongue to lap up her wetness and savoured the taste on his tongue. She tasted sweet and salty and a little metallic and Daemon was so addicted to it already that he simply had to edge her just so he could enjoy this cunt a little longer.

His head was glued to her center, not even leaving it for one second to take a proper breath. He wanted more though he didn't know how to get more so Daemon shoved two of his fingers in her mouth just to do anything. She hadn't expected it and let out a disapproving moan while tilting and turning her head to escape him. As a reply her uncle pushed his fingers deeper so she gagged around him. He chuckled darkly and watched his little niece struggle until he thought that it was enough and he allowed her to properly breathe again.

In the meantime Daemon's mouth hadn't left her throbbing and aching pearl and in Maera's expression he could sense that she would finish soon. She on the other hand was so overstained and anxious, not only because of her fear of Daemon but also because these feelings were entirely new to her and she didn't know what her body's reaction meant. Maera had never experienced something like this. This tension in her thighs, the way her core felt when her uncle brushed over the little nub. And of course her shame and anger because she hated that he was capable of making this terrible crime feel so good.

Soon Maera was torn away from her thoughts because Daemon actually made her release against her will and she was turned into a quivering mess again. Tears escaped her eyes and she shifted against his grip on her hips. And then it was already over.

After licking up the remains of her arousal he finally stopped his assault on her pearl and raised his head from between her legs. Maera's eyes were burning so she closed them as if Daemon couldn't see her when she couldn't see him but of course her illusion was taken when her uncle leaned down to kiss her slightly parted lips.

That made the girl open her eyes and she had no choice but to wait until Daemon had enough and then he pulled away to take his breeches off. She was seized by panic as she watched his hard cock and Maera tried to crawl away underneath him. But of course he was quick to take hold of her upper arm and pull her back so his face was on the same level as hers.

"Please Daemon. Please don't do this."

Daemon sighed deeply like he was genuinely disappointed in her and his thumb ran over her temple.

"Oh my sweet Maera. I thought you'd be obedient now that I have gifted you a marvelous release."

She pressed her lips together and tried to surpress her eyes from producing more tears.

"This is wrong, uncle. Please, we… this is not…"

His hand reached out to abruptly wrap around her throat and he squeezed lightly.

"It would be wrong for me not to consume our marriage, little one. I thought you learned about this when you were a child."

She gasped for air and her nails dug into Daemon's arm but he made her suffer a few more seconds before he loosened his grip and her head fell back into the cushion.

"Shut up now. I'll be as gentle as possible but you have to cooperate with me and try to fucking relax." His face tensed with fury and he grabbed her chin.

"But I swear to the gods, Maera, if you will continue to resist me I'm gonna take you like a common whore and not care about your discomfort. Do you understand me?", he growled and his niece anxiously nodded.

She looked at him with widened eyes and felt her mind racing for a solution or any idea what to do. But of course she didn't come up with anything except trying to fight him off but this had proven to be most ineffective those past minutes and so she was frozen while her uncle pressed his hips closer to her.

He wrapped a hand around his manhood and guided the tip through her folds. She was very wet by now and Daemon collected her arousal to coat her entrance and then his cock circled her hole. Maera had a painful expression on her face though he hadn't even started entering her yet but in response Daemon just stroke her hair and traced her soft skin.

"Breathe in, little girl.", he commanded her and Maera found she had no choice but to obey. There wasn't anything she could do, so she best tried to trust Daemon when he said that he wanted to make this as pleasant as possible for her. So she inhaled deeply and twitched when she felt his tip working itself into her hole.

"Breathe out.", Daemon's husky voice then cut through the air and again, Maera obeyed.

While the air was leaving her lungs her uncle slowly slid into her and the girl felt a distinct pain in her center. She had thought that there were no more tears to cry but the sting made her eyes wet and her buttom lip shivered as he inserted himself deeper inside of her.

"That's right.", Daemon breathed and Maera didn't have a choice but to lay there and endure the pain until he had filled her with his cock.

Once he was all the way inside of her he waited so his little niece could adjust and caressed her waist.

"Taking me so well, love. I know it hurts, but you're doing so fine. Just breathe… breathe for me, Maera."

She was sobbing and a veil of tears made his face look blurry but for some reason she instinctively listened to him and forced herself to let air enter her lungs. Perhaps she was just too tired and done with everything that she was happy to let someone guide her instead of fighting. Only slowly did the pain fade and the tears just wouldn't stop so Daemon leaned down to kiss the new ones away.

"There's no need to cry, babygirl. You know that when you were a child you've always been at calm when you were with me? Because I took care of you. The way I do now. Everything will be fine, you're my wife now. I'm gonna protect you and guide you."

He spoke those words against her ear and Maera couldn't help but relax. Gods be good, she was so tired. Her limbs hurt like hell, her cunt felt sore and aching and all of the crying had made her face and eyes swollen. What if she just gave in? Yes, she was so frightened and fearful of what her father would say, what would happen now and what Daemon was capable of doing but right now the thought of laying back and giving herself to him sounded tempting.

As much as she hated and despised him, maybe there was some part of the loving uncle she had known as a child was still left inside him. Maybe he really would take care of her if she obeyed him. A part of her screamed to banish those thoughts. He had taken her to Dragonstone under false intentions, had wed her against her will and then claimed her maidenhead though she had tried to make him stop countless times. He was a monster, a cruel and evil monster whom she shouldn't ever trusted again.

And yet… when his voice sounded so softly Maera felt like a little child again and remembered how Daemon had soothed her when she had hurt herself, cuddled her when there was a storm outside and how he had comforted her when she had had a fight with Aegon or her father. It was an instinct of her, a natural reaction to his loving words that stood so much in contrary to his vicious actions.

But as Daemon kissed her next to her ear and ran his hands over her collarbone Maera didn't push his hands away or turn her head away from his lips. Mayhaps it was partly because of the exhausion she felt and yet the girl laid still and the only sound that left her mouth was her crying.

And when Daemon pressed little kisses to her cheek and calmingly held her head for a brief moment Maera imagined that it hadn't been Daemon who had hurt her but someone else and now her uncle was merely the person that comforted her. It was easier for her. That way she could disconnect from the terrible things that he had done and repressing it was a lot simpler for her upset mind right now.

Of course she wasn't able to stay in this headspace for a long time because things were just too present and taunting and still for the first time in a long time his hand on her head had something consoling. Maybe also because Maera felt so horrible and desperate that any sort of loving gesture could give her solace, even if it came from the person who had made her feel like that in the first place.

Daemon was buried deep inside of her cunt and now started to slowly pull out of her only to thrust back in. It gave her discomfort again but this time the pain faded after a few moments. He groaned and watched her self-satisfied.

"Good girl, looks like you understand your place now. You know who you belong to and who owns you." 

He found a slow and steady rhythm of fucking her sore hole and though she felt as if her uncle's cock was bruising her insides, Maera was relieved because over time it felt much better and she didn't gasp for air in pain every time his cock entered her. While slamming into her Daemon pressed her into the bed with his weight and with his left hand toyed with her nipples while his right attempted to calm her by caressing her cheek.

"You feel so good wrapped around me, my sweet girl. So fucking tight. The best… fucking… cunt I've ever had.", he growled against her forehead.

Maera couldn't answer to his sweet talk. She felt numb, feared to cry when she opened her mouth and speaking of it, she didn't know how to ever talk to Daemon again. How to look at him or laugh with him. And that thought taunted her because she was his wife now and was obliged to spend the rest of her life with him. Maera's lashes fluttered and she felt a lump in her throat.

She was brought back to the moment when her uncle pressed his lips on her temple while picking up his speed.

"I'm gonna spill my seed in your little hole, love. M'gonna breed your cunt and make you round with my child. I know you'll look so stunning like that, little Maera. Gonna breed this cunt until I've gotten you pregnant."

He moved faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room and his hips snapped against hers roughly.

"Fucking hells.", Daemon growled while his hand gripped her breast tightly.

And then all of the sudden it was over.

Daemon had let out a grunt and Maera had felt a liquid filling her hole that her uncle had made sure to push inside with his cock so nothing spilled out and was wasted.

Then he collapsed on top of her and his head dropped so it rested in the crouch of her neck. A few moments later he then crawled off her and rested on his back next to her, his eyes closed. And then for the first time in many hours Maera was at peace. Not that she was physically alone but though Daemon laid next to her, her mind could collect itself and there wasn't an imminent fear or angst disturbing her. But perhaps she would have preferred to be disturbed because the thoughts that now flooded her mind were of the worst kind.

She replayed everything that had happened in the last 24 hours and it felt incredibly surreal. On one hand it felt like she hadn't actually experienced it but on the other it was so clear and real to her that the memory made her shudder. A part of her found that it hadn't been her who lived through this and only had watched the events as a spectator while another part had to relive it over and over again and it was a horrible sentiment.

She closed her eyes because she couldn't bare looking at this ceiling anymore. The wooden beams, the solitary iron hook dangling from the center, the occasional cracks in the stones. The picture was carved into Maera's mind and she just had to see something else. She definitely prefered the darkness of her mind.

Daemon granted her this peace, if you could call it that, for another 5 minutes and then sighed deeply. He opened his eyes, glanced at his niece and then heaved himself on his elbows.

"How are you feeling, sweetling?" Her eyes shut open at once and she anxiously glared at Daemon.

"Good.", she sniffed and quickly dropped her gaze to her fingers folded over her stomach. Her uncle watched her profile and then sighed again.

"Come on. We're gonna get you cleaned, you look terrible."

She sniffed again and a new stubborness overshadowed her fear for a second.

"No. I don't want to.", Maera whispered, her eyes still avoiding him.

"You have to get cleaned, niece. It's not gonna take long, alright?"

But she was determined and shook her head. "Then I'm gonna do it alone."

In a matter of seconds she regretted those words though because she was scared of his reaction and now finally her eyes wandered to him. Maera bit her lip waiting for his outbreak but surprisingly, he just bit his lower lip and then looked at her.

"No you're not. Come on now, I'm not gonna repeat myself."

That was the moment when she already gave up and decided that it would be more sufficent and easier for her to obey him. Now that she knew what her uncle was capable of she wouldn't take a risk merely because she felt bratty.

And so the girl climbed off the bed and immediately felt her whole body hurting and aching from their recent activities. New tears formed in her eyes when her arse touched the bed which didn't go unnoticed by Daemon.

"It'll be better tomorrow."

With these words he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to one of the chairs in the middle of the room. As if he was prepared for this, a bucket of water with a washcloth inside had been placed next to the table and once he had gently pushed Maera on the chair, Daemon kneeled in front of her.

"Spread your legs.".

Though his words sounded warmly, they made Maera's stomach twist. Everything inside her tensed and she knew she couldn't do it. She was too scared, too ravaged to open her legs for him after what he had done. She couldn't do it.

Maera hadn't answered him and so her uncle put a finger under her chin and lifted it.

"Maera. Spread your legs so I can clean you up."

She looked numb, her eyes hazy as if she was far away with her thoughts but she shook her head.

"N-No."

Daemon's expression hardened and he exhaled loudly.

"Sweet niece. How often do I have to tell you that you're to obey me."

His hand gripped her chin tightly. "You were very impudent earlier and believe me, it wasn't pleasant for me to deal with your defiant attitude every few seconds. I thought I taught you a lesson though. Don't upset me now, little girl."

Seeing the anger in his flashing eyes, Maera thought it to be a poor idea to try and change his mind by being bratty and yet she couldn't do as he had asked either. In her desperation she clenched her fists and pleadingy looked at the man kneeling in front of her.

"Please uncle. Please don't make me, please. I can clean myself or… or a servant could do it, just please…"

Her voice was almost inaudible but Daemon had understood every word. Yet he didn't answer her and instead forcefully pushed his hand between her knees and spread her legs which made his niece cry out. Her eyes closed and new tears fell from the corner of her eyes while Daemon shoved his knee between hers so they couldn't close. Her cunt was on display for him and the way he observed her womanhood made Maera hopelessly drop her head to her chest and she had no choice but to let the rogue prince clean her cunt with the washcloth, a motion that made her squirm as her sore core needed nothing but some peace.

Daemon now saw that his niece had bleeded because once he had wiped her cunt free of the remainings of his seed and her own arousal, blood stains were visible on the fabric and he lifted his eyebrows. Maera hadn't noticed any of that though because she was too concentrated on sobbing so much so that her tears had blurred whatever was happening in front of her.

Soon Daemon was finished with her cunt and continued by cleaning her face with a second cloth. Though new tears were rolling up her cheeks, he removed the traces of the old ones as well as the now dried sweat.

When he was done with that, Daemon got up from the ground and helped his niece up who unwillingly took his arm. Perhaps she was smart enough to understand that at his point he would only lead her to the bed so she could finally get some sleep and it would be unwise to fight him now.

And he did bring her to the bed, the sight of which brough forward awful feeling but still the thought of sleeping for several hours made Maera want to approach it again. She laid down on the left side of it while her new husband took the right side. He sprawled out on his back but she didn't pay attention to him. She just rolled herself on her side with her eyes facing the stone wall next to the bed.

With as much distance between her and Daemon she closed her eyes and despite being so incredibly tired Maera needed almost two hours until her choatic head was able to drift away in a land of uneasy dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog

[just-another-fanfiction-writer]

Could you handle me? | Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader | Chapter Three

Word count: ~900

Summary: Frustration - this summarizes Sebastian's mood pretty well after you have left him so utterly confused with your mixed signals.

Now he needs to vent his frustrations.

Warnings: aged up characters, possessive!Sebastian, pining, tension, hurt/ comfort, fluff, smut (masturbation), body worship, miscommunication, Sebastian is bad at feelings, minors dni

~ chapter one ~ chapter two ~ ao3 link ~

It's been a minute!

I'm so sorry for taking over 1,5 years to update this fic. But because of those lovely comments from you guys, I never truly gave up on this on and I'm happy to be back. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Stay tuned for more ❤️️

~Mia

Sebastian rubbed over his knuckles, cursing at himself, the wall and the whole world for the ache he felt.

He messed up. Seriously messed up. He went too far, reading the signals completely wrong and jeopardized the friendship he had with you.

You - god, he could never lose you.

The door to the Undercroft slammed shut, similar to the way you had shut him out, after letting him in. Sebastian suppressed the urge to hit something, preferably himself for his stupidity. How could he have said no to the inviting image of you, not only tempting him but the very sun, who cast her most enchanting glow solely onto you.

No, stop.

He needed to calm down. Think clearly on what to do next. Salvage of what was left of your relationship.

He paced up and down the cool stone floor, mumbling to himself, cursing under his breath, whenever his mind drifted into a mess of pictures and sounds of you, that tried to pull him back into the deep like the enchanting mermaid song of the Black Lake.

Finally he let himself fall onto the old velvet couch he had spend eternity on with you talking, laughing and crying. He had to apologize. He had to make clear he would never ever do anything to harm you, to make you cry or to make you feel unsafe. He would offer to never flirt with you again.

Even when it would kill himself, to not tease the adorable pink blush onto your cheeks with just a few words. Or to notice your eyes so deliberately avoiding his gaze, as if his woul'd be able to glimpse behind the perfectly innocent mask you were wearing. To accidentally make his hand brush against yours, so your breath would quicken. To suddenly close in and make you check, if your heart was still beating or had stopped completely. To part his lips, just as your eyes would drift down to them, if only for a split second.

God, your lips...he wished he had tasted them, when he had the chance. Maybe it was good he only got to taste your skin, the sweet and salty mixture, but even that was completely intoxicating. He could still feel on his tongue the way your throat vibrated with your quiet moan, when he hit the right spot. And the way you were holding onto him, your hands seemingly pushing and pulling at the same time.

A deep gutteral groan left his lips, when he was reminded of the heat between your legs and how your hips ever so slightly had shifted back and forth. Sebastian knew this was wrong, to let his mind run wild with what had happened. He could feel the tightness in his pants, his arousal becoming more and more unbearable, even as his hand had already started to rub over the growing bulge. But just for today, he'd let himself go. Tomorrow morning he would apologize and let nothing ever come from the incident. He'd only ever be your friend.

But today in his mind you were his.

As he was already forever yours.

Slowly sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, unlike how he had so quickly sunk into his obsession over you, his fingers reached for the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one until he finally could free himself. His hot breath danced across his parted lips, when his fingertips reached for his pulsing erection. The muscles in his lower abdomen visibly contracted, when he ran them along his length, spreading the excessive amount of precum over his heated skin. It was ridiculous just how hard he was. How incredibly desperate he was for this to be your hand, feeling just how tightly wound he was. Even just a few gentle strokes were almost enough for him to come undone, so he had to tightly wrap his hand around the base to stop himself. Something between a hiss and a groan echoed in the candle-lit vault, as his head fell back. Slow and steadily he continued to stroke his shaft, making sure to prolong this moment for as long as he could.

His mind drifted off to your encounter again and it felt like sweet torture to keep edging himself, while all his senses were remembering everything about you in great detail. Sebastian couldn't stop the desperate whine, just after his hips stuttered forward, indicating the close orgasm. If you were with him, he told himself, he wouldn't let out such sounds. A grunt here and there, but he wouldn't want to miss a single sound from you.

Then again, he thought, would you maybe enjoy his sounds just as much as he did yours? Would it turn you on to hear his sharp breaths, his little whines and moans? Would you rub your pretty thighs together, as you'd make a mess of him? So many question swirled in his head, it made Sebastian dizzy.

One thing was for sure. If he had you, he would find answers to all his questions and take his time to explore and worship every inch of you. You truly had him under your spell and it never were to be broken, as long as you were walking the earth and beyond.

Sometimes he'd even dream of you calling out to him.

"Sebastian..."

Your sweet voice calling out his name, as it was supposed to be.

"Sebastian..."

Just one more time, he pleaded in his head. Hear your voice one last time, calling out his name with such adoration.

"Sebastian..."

"Ah fuck!"

It all happened in a blink of an eye. One second, he was in utter bliss, cumming onto his hand and stomach, the next panic settled, when his muddled brain finally registered your voice wasn't just a siren's call.

~ To be continued ~

Tags (thank you guys so much for reading!): @blueroseava @lollife1617 @ghosigirl @anynfran

[waitingformysandman]

Remember Me

Part 3

Summary: After years of being separated from your love, James (Bucky) Buchanan Barnes, you finally find him again. But he’s different. Too different. Not only does he forget himself but you and Steve as well. Can he get his memories back?

‼️Trigger Warnings will be noted if needed at the beginning of chapter.‼️

Triggers: reader not taking care of themselves, starving, self deprication, Steve Rodgers being an ass

Use of Y/N in this chapter. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: for anyone actually keeping up with this I’m so sorry this chapter took so long😂

“Of course you can stay with me Sargent. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He smiled that beautiful smile. The one you thought you’d never see again but were blessed to see so many times in the past hour.

“Don’t smile at me like that.” You blushed.

“Like what?” He asked. Genuinely confused as it was how he smiled at everything that made him genuinely happy.

“Like that. That smile you always do that gets us into trouble. The one you know would get us into trouble here. You know the one.”

There wasn’t a specific smile. It was just him. He was so unabashedly happy to be back in your presence no matter how little he remembered it hadn’t even occurred to him that he probably looked a little deranged.

He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. Literally.

He frowned.

You furrowed your brow from the sudden change of Bucky’s emotions.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He whispered so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It didn’t help that he was looking at the ground.

“I don’t remember the last time I smiled.”

He looked up at you again, eyes watering.

You tentatively reached around his waist with one arm before reaching around with the other. Just in case.

He stood rigidly. His arms to his sides and breathing heavily. You pressed your whole body to him hoping your closeness would ease his tension like it used to. But it didn’t. Instead, it made everything worse.

With his one arm he wrenched you away from himself and his once gorgeous blue eyes were now steel. He wasn’t there anymore. He almost looked like him. The one that haunted your dreams now. The Winter Soldier. But he wasn’t. The Soldier wasn’t quite there. But he was there enough.

“Leave.”

Your head snapped up. Unsure you heard him correctly you asked him to repeat himself.

“I said leave. Stop waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.”

You gaped at him. Everything was ok. He was fine a minute ago. You were fixing your relationship, getting to know each other again. It was wonderful. But now.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to have a relationship if it was going to be like this every time you got close to him. It wouldn’t work. In no reality would that work.

“B-Bucky?” you stuttered

“I SAID GET OUT!”

He shoved you away and took hold of your wrist leading you out of the hut and quite literally threw you out.

You landed on your hands and knees with tears in your eyes.

Steve didn’t see much but he saw you get thrown out. He ran as fast as he could to get to you.

“Hey. What happened? You alright?”

You slowly got to your knees and looked at your hands. You started picking out the gravel that had embedded itself in your palms.

You slowly and calmly looked Steve directly in the eyes.

“He’s gone Steve. There isn’t anything we can do.”

Steve flinched.

“What are you talking about ‘He’s gone’? What’s going on? Y/N what happened in there!”

You got up off your knees and found Shuri near the edge of the lake.

“Thank you for all your help Shuri. I know you’ve done everything you can. But I think it’s too late. He’s gone.”

And that’s when you broke down. You couldn’t fight the tears.

You found Steve beside you and buried yourself in his chest. If Bucky wouldn’t hold you at least you knew your friend would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Weeks Later

Steve was never good at speaking to women. Saying hello in and of itself was a general hardship for him.

Except for you. Since Bucky had found you all those years ago you and Steve had become good friends. Steve was grateful for that.

Steve couldn’t talk to women. But he could talk to you. You weren’t just a woman. You were his best friend and his other best friend’s…girlfriend? Fiancé?

Whatever you were to Bucky he wasn’t quite sure. But you were important enough that he had bought you a ring and you had worn it. Even after thinking he had been dead for 70 years.

He wasn’t sure if Bucky was still there anymore. If anything that had happened in Wakanda was anything to go by. Steve would bring him back though. For you.

As he wandered the halls of the Avenger’s compound alone with his thoughts Steve decided to try to visit you again. Even though you probably wouldn’t see him.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone. He hadn’t seen you leave your room or even order anything to your room. He had asked FRIDAY if you had been at least eating but you had instructed FRIDAY not to tell anyone and that “If it’s Blondie asking, tell him I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

He’d been getting that same message for months. He hoped you were still alive at this point.

Steve stopped at your door and took a breath before knocking.

Knock knock knock.

He waited a minute.

He was greeted with the deafening silence of the empty compound.

But he soon heard a rustling coming from the other side of the door. And then the sound of feet shuffling closer and closer to the door until it slowly creaked the tiniest bit open.

He was shocked. You looked awful.

“Hey Steve.”

That was it. 2 weeks of silence, not knowing if you were taking care of yourself, if you were dead and all he got was ‘Hey Steve’? Nope not ok.

“‘Hey Steve?’ That’s it? Really Y/N? That’s all I get? HEY FUCKING STEVE?!”

You flinched. You knew you deserved it. Hiding in your room for the past 2 weeks. He tried to help you. You just wanted to die.

“Yeah. Just hey Steve.”

You started to shut the door but he smashed his hand between the door and the jamb before you could close it all the way and he forced the door completely open.

You couldn’t wither away and lose a grotesque amount of weight like an average person as a super soldier. But you still managed to somehow look like it.

You motioned to the box by the couch in the living room.

“They sent me his things the day after we got back. Well, his backpack and the clothes on his back.”

Steve looked at you warily. It explained the slight look of insanity. You missed him. Too much.

You wished it was him in your room. Not a box of clothes and backpack of memories.

He needed the backpack. Wherever he was.

“You should go Steve.”

“What do you mean I should go? You need help! A therapist. Something!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered “it’s not proper.”

“THIS ISN’T THE 1940’s Y/N! BUCKY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE HERE FOR IT TO BE ‘PROPER’. AND GUESS WHAT? YOU WEREN’T EVEN MARRIED! HE HADN’T EVEN PROPOSED YET SO IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN PROPER ANYWAY!”

You knew he was right. You mentally rolled your eyes. He was always right.

“Ya know what? Fine. Sit here and wallow in your pain and his bloodied tattered clothes and books of faded memories. It’s not going to help bring him back!”

And with those last stinging words Steve left. Making sure to slam the door behind him like the dramatic ass he is.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 15

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation. Blood drowning drowning in blood. Nightmares.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

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We knew it was coming, but it still sucked to be going to bed alone.  There just wasn’t enough room for everyone to sleep comfortably in a hotel room.  I was strangely anxious as I got ready for bed.  I procrastinated.  Taking a longer shower than usual, doing an extra-long skin care routine, picking out an outfit for tomorrow, playing on my phone.  Until I finally had no choice but to turn in.

My dreams were full of blood and screaming.  A faceless, nameless Alpha bleeding out, reaching towards me for help.  Gurgling and choking on their own blood as it pooled around my ankles, rising quickly until it was at my hips.  The blood was cold and thick, not letting me move to get away-to run.  As it rose to my neck the pressure started to make it hard to breathe and I gasped in small amounts of air desperately trying to move.  I couldn’t let it cover my nose.  I didn’t want to drown in someone’s blood!  Please!  Oh god, please!

Waking with a flair of pain as I fell out of bed and hit my shoulder on the unforgiving hotel floor, I lay there, adjusting to reality and catching my breath.  I could still see the bleeding Alpha every time I closed my eyes.  My throat felt raw, like I had been screaming.  Maybe that was the screaming I heard in the nightmare.

I jumped hard when there was a knock on my door and an unintelligible voice on the other side, muffled by the thick hotel door.  With a sigh and still shaking I stood and answered the door.  If I was really screaming it was probably security coming to check on me.

I blinked, shocked when I opened the door to most of the staff and all my Omegas.  Plus, of course, security who were the only ones who didn’t look half asleep.  “I’m sorry.  I had a nightmare.”  I explained embarrassed.

Luckily, there were no outward signs of judgement.  Most staff and security just nodded or murmured in understanding and left.  Back to their rooms to sleep more.  The Omegas stayed, though most looked mostly asleep, leaning on each other.

“I’m really okay guys.  Go back to bed.”  No need for them to be tired tomorrow because of me.  They were already jam packed with schedules.

They dispersed back to their rooms.  All except Cahn and Lino.  Unceremoniously, Lino shoved by me and went straight to my bed - immediately falling back asleep.  I looked back at Chan in question.

“We’ll stay with you tonight.”  He stated.

Chan waited until I stepped aside to enter my room, but it was clear he wasn’t leaving – just being polite.  He made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the bed from Lino, leaving a space in between them for me, which he patted in invitation when I didn’t immediately join them.

I was immensely grateful that neither made a big deal about staying with me.  With them near me I felt like I would actually be able to fall asleep and get some rest.

Climbing over Chan, I squeeze myself between them and snuggled up to him.  He pulled me closer to tuck me under his chin and soothingly started rubbing his foot along my half.

“Was it the airport incident?”  Chan asked quietly a minute later.

“I guess it affected me more than I thought.”  I was disappointed in myself.  For not being stronger.  I wasn’t even hurt, it’s so stupid to be afraid now!

Chan kissed the top of my head.  “You were covered in human blood.  Anyone would be traumatized.  I would have vomited or cried for sure.”  He assured me.

“You did good.  Didn’t give the bastards anything.”  Lino mumbled from his pillow behind me.  I had thought he was sleeping, but apparently, I was wrong.

“I did faint.”  I pointed out.

“After we were safely out of public eye.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  No one can be strong all the time.  We all have out breaking points.”  Chan chastised gently.

Lino scooted closer behind me.  There are 9 of us.  We carry each other.”  He sighed nuzzling his face on the back of my neck.  Something he would never do or say if he wasn’t half asleep, I am sure.

“Okay, okay.  Both of you get some sleep.”  I tucked the blanket around the three of us and settled back in, ready to give sleeping without nightmares another chance now that I was between two of my Omegas.

With their warmth and scent around me, I fell back asleep easily.  And despite the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I only had pleasant dreams for the rest of the night.

The great thing about dance practice is that I could go in sweatpants, and no one cared.  Which was good because early morning practices were not my favorite.  Between Lino and Chan, I was somehow dressed, given a piggyback ride to the car, and provided caffeine.

When the caffeine finally started to kick in, I blearily looked at the calendar on my phone to see the schedule for the day.  Trying to make sense of the chaos of nine schedules in one day all jumbled and overlapping each other.

From what I could tell, after practice Chan, Felix and I had an interview with an Australian entertainment show followed by a photoshoot for a magazine spread.  My first official interview and photoshoot where I wasn’t the photographer.

Since I had never been a model before I needed to study.  So, I pulled up some of my best photos on my tablet and while the boys practiced their dances I practiced modeling.  Both facial expressions and poses.  It felt and looked clumsy as hell, and I was embarrassed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”  Lino asked coming over on one of their breaks.  I had been attempting to replicate a particularly soft and sexy pose in my camera – and failing apparently.

I relaxed my face and dropped my arms with a huff.  “I have a photoshoot with Cannie and Lixie this afternoon.”

“So, you decided to practice bad modeling?”

“Am I really that bad?”  I pouted feeling defeated.

Lino patted my head.  “You’re thinking too much about it.  You do this all the time.”

“No!  I take pictures – I’m not in them!”

“Y/n, babe, you are going to do fine.  No one is expecting you to be perfect.”

“I cannot drag you guys down!  I will not allow it!”

“You won’t.  And we won’t let you fall either.  We will walk you through the shoot.”  Felix said, joining us with a half empty bottle of water and a damp sweat towel.

I gave in easily to his promise – trusting him to keep his word.  He was one of the better models of the group, so he would likely be able to walk me through it easily.  And, despite what I said to Lino, my experience behind the camera would help, just like it did when I took the bonding marks photos.

This was the first time I was leaving a significant number of my Omegas.  And it was for almost half a day.  As the time to leave drew closer I found myself almost clinging to the Omegas I would leave.  Constantly reestablishing contact and seeking out their touch and scent as well.  Like I was some kind of drug addict in need of a constant fix.

I even went as far as sitting on Bins lap during their meeting with staff.  Pulling Hyune close and playing with his fingers in my lap and hooking an ankle around Ayen’s calf firmly.  And even as I had all three of them, my instincts wanted to bring Han, Lino, and Seungmin closer.  To have some part of me touching them, just a little.

For their part they didn’t seem to mind my clinginess.  In fact, I don’t think it bothered them at all that we would be apart for hours.  They weren’t seeking contact like I was, and any skinship I got from them I had to ask for.  Knowing that they weren’t affected by being separated from me for hours stung.  It downright hurt.  It made me sad and bitter, but unable to stop seeking contact with them.

I tried not to be bitter.  They all had a lot going on right now.  A lot on their plates and a lot on their minds.  They really didn’t have time to think about me, to worry about being apart.

I tried to remember this and not be bitter and upset, but it didn’t really work.  Emotions didn’t work on rationality and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop them.  The best I could do was try not to take it out on the Omegas.

“Alright, baby girl, time to go.”  Chan clapped and rubbed his hands together.

I shook my head.  “Not yet.”  It was too soon.  I needed more time.  Like maybe a week or two.

Chan tilted his head with a fond smile and exasperated body language.  “We have to go, or we will be late.”

We had a stare down.  Me pouting and him in fond exasperation before I finally gave in with a growl.

Lino laughed and came over to squish my cheeks together when I stood.  “That was so cute!”

Rolling my eyes I shoved his hands away but pulled him in for a hug.  I rubbed my hands all down his back and arms to make sure plenty of my scent was left behind.  So, everyone knew – even if I wasn’t here - that he was bonded.  That he was mine.

I gave the same treatment to the other Omegas I was leaving behind, taking my time, and making sure enough scent was left behind.  I had to make sure – it was an absolute must.

They tolerated it well enough.  Standing still while I rubbed at them with hyperfocus.  Only a few chuckles and eyerolls.  Han and Ayen curling up when I accidentally tickled them.

“Honey, we really are going to be late if we don’t leave.”  Lix called gently.

I nodded.  “Okay, okay.  I’m coming!”

Once in the car the anxiety doubled, and I stared at the building as we drove further and further away from six of my Omegas.  Felix took my hand and squeezed it in comfort.

“They will be fine.  And we’ll be back before you know it.”  He said quietly.

And he was right.  They would be fine.  They had their own schedules to keep them busy.  It was literally just me freaking out over separating.

It’s not like I thought they needed my protection because I knew they didn’t.  Omegas weren’t weak, and my Omegas were the strongest I have ever met.  It was me that needed them.  Needed to be needed – be wanted – by them.  I was the weak one.

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General Taglist @stellasays45

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie @threeopossumsinacoat

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (9)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: it's finally the day of the fair, there's tension, bike ride, they're just too cute

A/N: might be one of my most fav chapters that i've written up until now. i personally love the fair scene a lot and omg ahhh jungkook is so cute. we're finally getting close to something. can't wait hehehehe. stay tuned and let me know your thoughts <3

part 9: wheeling through the lavender breeze

D-Day; The day arrives bathed in golden sunshine, the town raging with excitement. It’s the day of the fair, and everyone has poured their hearts into its preparation. By noon, vendors are bustling about, arranging their stalls and testing their games, while colorful streamers flutter in the gentle breeze.

The aroma of freshly baked goods mingles with the faint tang of fried treats, filling the air with a sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

As the clock strikes four, the fair officially begins. Crowds gather, filling the once-quiet town square with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shriek of joy from children trying their luck at the game stands. Everything has fallen into place, every detail, every decoration, every event like pieces of a perfect puzzle.

You and your friends are a bundle of energy as you dive headfirst into the fair's festivities. Namjoon, ever the intellectual, lingers at the trivia booth, determined to win a stuffed panda for Juwon, who laughs at his serious expressions. “Joonie, it’s just a plush toy, not a Nobel Prize." she teases, earning a playful glare from him.

Meanwhile, Seokjin and Taehyung are at the dart stand, where Jin, with his trademark overconfidence, declares he’ll hit the bullseye. “Watch and learn, peasants.” he smirks, only for the dart to land embarrassingly off-target. Taehyung howls with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Hyung you're a true champion!” he snorts.

Sunjae drags you towards the ring toss game, and as you toss rings together, he nudges you playfully. “Bet you can’t beat me.” he says. You smirk, your competitive streak kicking in.

By the end of it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, arms weighed down with the silly prizes you’ve just won, ranging from keychains to plastic crowns and a plush cat that you can’t resist keeping for yourself.

The group jumps from stall to stall, savoring churros dipped in chocolate and slurping down colorful shaved ice. It’s a day of simple joy and happiness, only made brighter by the presence of your closest friends.

On the other side of the fair, Jungkook wanders with his group of friends. Yoongi strolls at an unhurried pace, a relaxed smile gracing his face. His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he takes in the vibrant atmosphere, a quiet sense of pride swelling within him for the part he played in bringing this fair into life.

Hoseok, in contrast, is a ball of energy, dragging Jungkook to a basketball hoop game. “Come on, man, show them what you’ve got!!!” he cheers as Jungkook effortlessly lands shot after shot, earning himself a stuffed bunny prize that Hoseok is quick to keep for himself.

Jimin, ever the charmer, flirts his way to extra turns at the candy claw machine, much to the amusement of the group. “Watch and learn, Jungkook.” Jimin quips as he retrieves yet another lollipop.

Despite the company of his friends, Jungkook’s thoughts keep drifting back to you. His sharp eyes scan the crowd, catching glimpses of your laughter, your playful antics, and the way the sunlight dances across your features. You’re radiant, your joy infectious, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

Last night’s moment in the storeroom replays in his mind like a never ending loop... the way your breath hitched, the warmth of your skin under his fingertips, the soft whisper of his name. He had been so close, so achingly close to pulling you in and just kissing you. The memory burns, and he clenches his jaw, frustrated by the distance now separating you.

His gaze finds you again, this time at a food stall. You’re sipping lemonade, your lips quirking up into a grin as Sunjae says something to make you laugh. Jungkook’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but seeing you like this... happy, glowing, and so effortlessly beautiful makes him fall harder, faster, deeper.

He knows he should focus on the fair, on his friends, but every fiber of his being wants to be near you. To hear your laugh up close, to feel your touch again. But not yet. Tonight, he tells himself. It has to wait until tonight.

//

As the clock nears six, the fair transforms into something out of a storybook. Fairy lights strung along the trees flicker to life, casting a soft golden glow. Lanterns sway gently in the breeze, their warm hues giving the town square a magical charm.

The sound of children’s laughter is joined by the distant strumming of guitars, signaling the start of the evening performances.

You pause for a moment, your gaze sweeping across the vibrant decorations that adorns the fairgrounds. The floral arrangements, each carefully placed, now seem to glow under the warm lights, accentuating their colors and adding a touch of elegance to the scene.

You feel a wave of pride as you take it all in, your chest swelling at the realization of what you and the rest of the volunteers have accomplished.

Just days ago, this fair felt like a daunting task, a nightmare of to-do lists, late nights, and endless arrangements. Now, it’s a masterpiece. The flowers you chose, the garlands you hung, the small details you agonized over... it’s all come together, creating a space that feels alive and enchanting.

“Wow.” you whisper to yourself, unable to suppress the smile spreading across your face. It’s a moment of quiet triumph, shared silently with the fair itself, as if it’s rewarding your hard work with its newfound beauty.

Eventually, the performances start. The first act is a children’s dance group, choreographed by none other than Juwon. She stands at the edge of the stage, practically vibrating with pride as the kids twirl and hop in sync. “Look at them go!” she gushes, clapping enthusiastically.

Taehyung grins, leaning over to Namjoon. “Juwon’s going to be the next big choreographer. Mark my words.”

“Already calling it.” Seokjin agrees, stealing popcorn from your bag. “Hey!” you protest, slapping his hand away. Finally, the children finish their routine to a roaring applause. Juwon beams, her eyes shining with happiness as the kids take their bows.

//

The night deepens, and the concert begins. The stage is bathed in soft, ethereal light as a local band plays slow, romantic tunes. The crowd sways gently, hands raised, their movements in sync with the music. It’s a moment of collective peace, an almost perfect ending to a bustling day.

Amid the sea of people, your eyes meet Jungkook’s again. He stands at the edge of the crowd, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his expression unreadable. But his eyes... those pretty eyes... they’re locked on you, burning with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

Your heart races as you try to focus on the music, but your thoughts betray you. Last night’s moment in the storeroom, the lingering looks throughout the day, the way your body aches to be near him... it all bubbles to the surface.

Do you feel something for him? Of course, you do. But is it fleeting, or is it something deeper? As the music swells, so does the turmoil in your heart. Your gaze flickers back to him, and for a moment, everything else fades... the crowd, the music, the fair. It’s just you and him, two souls pulled together by an invisible string.

But tonight isn’t over yet. You push the thoughts aside, silently promising yourself you’ll confront them soon. For now, you let the music guide you, your heart beating in time with the melody and, perhaps, with his.

As the concert ends and applause fills the air, an announcement crackles through the speakers, inviting everyone to the open field just beyond the fairgrounds for the final event of the night: stargazing. The crowd buzzes with excitement, parents tugging their children along, couples holding hands, and friends chattering eagerly as they make their way towards the dimly lit path leading to the field.

The field stretches wide and open, a canvas of lush grass under a sky that seems impossibly vast. The lights from the fair are distant now, leaving the stars to claim their throne.

Tiny specks of light twinkle against the inky blackness, brighter and more abundant than you’ve ever seen. Someone has laid out blankets in a semi-circle for people to sit or lie on, while lanterns placed on the periphery cast a soft, warm glow that doesn’t disturb the night sky.

You settle onto one of the blankets with your friends, the chatter among you gradually softening as the beauty of the scene washes over everyone. Taehyung stretches out, resting his hands behind his head. “I could just live here forever.” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, but where’s the Wi-Fi???” Seokjin quips, breaking the reverent silence. Laughter ripples through your group, light and easy, before quieting again as you all gaze upward.

Not far from you, Jungkook sits on the grass with his friends. Yoongi, as usual, seems perfectly content to enjoy the moment in silence, while Hoseok chatters about the stars and how he used to imagine himself as an astronaut. Jimin teases him endlessly, saying, “Yeah, Hobi, you’d make a great astronaut, especially with your fear of heights.”

Jungkook chuckles at their antics, but his focus is elsewhere. His dark eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re lying on the blanket, your head tilted towards+ the heavens, your profile illuminated by the faint glow of the lanterns.

His heart feels heavy and light all at once. He watches the way your lips part slightly in awe, the way your fingers absentmindedly brush a strand of hair from your face, the way the stars seem to reflect in your eyes. It’s as if the universe has conspired to make this moment just for you, and he’s lucky enough to witness it.

He thinks about the storeroom incident again... the way your lips felt against his cheek, the way your voice trembled slightly when you told him to wait five minutes. He remembers the panic in your eyes, followed by that fleeting kiss, and something inside him stirs. Last night was the beginning of something, he’s sure of it.

And yet, he knows this isn’t the moment to bridge the distance. He has to wait, as much as it pains him. But the night feels infinite, and in its quiet magic, he allows himself to hope.

As the stargazing continues, some of the organizers hand out tiny glass jars with glowing fairy lights inside, a gift for everyone to take home. Children gasp and squeal in delight, running around the field with their jars, pretending to catch fireflies. You can’t help but smile at their joy, hugging your own jar close as the warmth of the moment fills your chest.

//

Eventually, the night of the fair slowly winds down, the music softens, and the once-bustling crowd begins to thin. The fairy lights still twinkle above, casting a dreamy glow over the remnants of the evening's magic. You find yourself walking back towards your shop, the sounds of the fair fading into the background.

Stepping inside, you make your way to the counter, rifling through your bag to ensure you’ve gathered all your belongings. You spot the plastic crown you won earlier in one of the fair games, its shiny surface catching the light, and try to fit it neatly into your bag. A quiet knock on the glass door pulls you from your task.

Startled, you glance up and freeze. It’s Jungkook. He stands still just outside, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His eyes meet yours, full of warmth and a hint of something unspoken, and instantly, your cheeks burn, your heart skipping a beat.

You fold almost immediately, unable to suppress the shy grin that spreads across your face. Slowly, you move towards the door, your gaze locked with his, as if tethered by some invisible force. When you open it, the barrier between you disappears, leaving the two of you face-to-face under the quiet night sky.

“Jungkook…” you greet softly. The weight of unspoken words lingers in the air, but you push it aside for now. All that matters is the present moment, standing here with him. “Long night, huh?” he says casually, his voice light, though his eyes hold a depth you can’t quite decipher. He's still in the same spot, his feet glued to the entrance outside your shop.

“Yeah… the fair. It’s finally over.” you breathe out, glancing behind him, over his shoulders towards the quieting square. “It was... magical.” you add, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

When you look back at him, you notice the way he’s staring at you, the hint of a smirk curling one corner of his lips. “The fair is over… but the night...” his voice trails as he continues. “the night is still young.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but curiosity flickers in your chest. He reaches out his hand, palm up, the silent invitation clear. “Come with me?” he asks, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes glimmering with a playful tease. A laugh escapes you but you still find yourself placing your hand in his. “Come with you? Where?”

“You’ll see...” he replies simply, his smirk deepening into a full smile, the kind that sends your heart fluttering.

With no hesitation, you trust him. After switching off the lights in your store and locking the door, you follow him into the night, your hand still securely in his. The fair may be over, but something tells you the night’s magic is far from done.

Jungkook leads you to his bike, parked right outside his shop. Two helmets rest on the seat, a small detail that sparks both curiosity and excitement. Gently, he lets go of your hand, picking up one of the helmets and holding it out to you.

“Wear this.” he says simply, his tone soft but firm.

You take it from his hands, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. Despite holding the helmet, you remain rooted to the spot, your gaze fixed on him as he fixes the helmet over his head, still trying to process what was happening.

He notices your hesitation and chuckles lightly. “Come on, just trust me." he says, stepping closer. Before you can react, he takes the helmet from your hands and carefully places it over your head.

His hands work with a gentle precision as he adjusts the fit, his fingers brushing your jawline while he clips the buckle below your chin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you try to steady your breath as he steps back, admiring hoe adorable you look.

“We’re taking your bike?” you question the obvious, the confusion and curiosity evident in your voice. He nods, his lips curving into an almost teasing smile as he swings his leg over the bike, taking a seat.

“Mhm.” he hums, settling in and gripping the handlebars with ease. Turning his head slightly, he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Hop on. We’re going for a ride.”

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing between him and the bike. But the glimmer in his eyes and the excitement in his voice are contagious. You know you’re about to step into the unknown, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to say no. With a deep breath, you take a step forward, ready to join him on this spontaneous adventure.

You’re wearing a long, sleeveless flowy summer dress, its fabric brushing gently against your legs, paired with a loose-knit sweater that drapes carelessly over one of your shoulders. The thin strap of your dress peeks out from under the sweater, the slight exposure making you self-conscious for a fleeting moment. You adjust it nervously as you prepare to climb onto Jungkook's bike.

Sitting behind him isn’t easy, especially in a dress, but you manage to settle yourself carefully, your knees tucked close and your hands unsure of where to rest. The bike rumbles softly beneath you, and you feel the cool evening breeze starting to sweep through your hair.

“Hold onto me.” Jungkook says, his voice calm yet firm, as he looks back over his shoulder.

You tentatively reach out, your fingers grazing his sides before resting lightly on his torso. The hesitation in your touch makes Jungkook chuckle softly, the sound low and warm. “Come on.” he teases, his grin audible in his voice. “You’re not gonna fall off, but you might if you’re this shy about it.”

Before you can respond, he reaches back, his strong hand wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your arm forward. The sudden motion causes you to gasp softly, and you find yourself pressed against his back, your arms now circling his torso completely.

“You gotta hold on tight.” he says, his voice softer now but laced with amusement. The warmth of his body seeps through his leather jacket and your sweater, and you can’t help but feel the strength and steadiness beneath your palms, through the thin material of his t-shirt that peaks between the zipper of his jacket.

Your cheeks burn, but you comply, gripping him a little firmer. Jungkook revs the bike, the vibrations sending a thrill through you as the realization hits... this moment, this closeness, it’s real.

“Better.” he murmurs, as if reassuring you both. Then, with a slight tilt of his head and a quick glance back, he says, “Ready?”

You nod, even though he can’t see it, your heart pounding against your ribcage. With a flick of his wrist, the bike roars to life, and the world around you blurs as the two of you take off into the night.

The ride is sensational. Jungkook zooms past the dimly lit streets, the glowing storefronts and scattered streetlights blending into streaks of color. The rumble of the engine vibrates through your whole body, and the cool night air brushes past your skin with a ferocity that sends your adrenaline skyrocketing.

You clutch onto Jungkook tighter as the wind whips through your hair, the speed thrilling and a little terrifying at the same time. Yet, instead of fear, an exhilarating sense of freedom takes over. It’s as if the world around you has melted away, leaving only the pulse of the bike beneath you, the blur of the road ahead, and the warmth of Jungkook’s body against yours.

When he speeds up, you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes your lips, the sheer rush making you feel alive in a way you’ve never experienced before. You tilt your head back slightly, letting the breeze carry your laughter as if it could echo through the night.

The road soon opens up onto an empty bridge, the lights from the railing casting faint glimmers onto the endless stretch of the road. With no other vehicles in sight, it feels like the entire world belongs to the two of you. The vast sky above, dotted with stars, mirrors the open road below.

“Having fun?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the wind, deep and playful, somehow carrying over the roaring engine and rushing air. You don’t answer right away. Instead, a grin breaks across your face, and without thinking, you throw your head back and scream. “Wooooooo!”

Your joyous cry echoes through the empty bridge, wild and untamed. Jungkook glances back for a second, his laugh joining yours, a genuine sound of delight and appreciation. He loves this moment... your carefree energy, your laughter, the way you’re soaking it all in.

“You’re something else.” he mutters to himself, the words swallowed by the wind, though the warmth in his tone lingers. Time seems to stretch and blur, the ride feeling both endless and fleeting. The stars above seem brighter now, the night unfolding into something magical as Jungkook continues to glide across the open road.

But just as you think the ride might never end, the bike begins to slow down. The engine’s roar softens to a hum, and the rush of the wind eases, letting the sounds of the night seep back in... the gentle chirp of crickets and the faint crashing of waves.

You look up, your surroundings coming into sharper focus. On the right, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds before you, the moonlight dancing on its surface. Your breath catches as you realize where he’s brought you. The beach.

Jungkook pulls over to the side of the road, cutting the engine. The sudden quiet feels almost deafening, except for the rhythmic lull of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Surprise.” he says softly, glancing back at you with a small smile. His helmet’s visor is up, and you can see the glimmer in his eyes.

For a moment, you’re speechless as you still hold onto him, the beauty of the scene stealing your words. The vast ocean stretches endlessly before you, and the night feels alive with some kind of possibility.

<- part 8 // part 10 (coming soon) ->

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