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1kook · 4 years ago

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

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The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished.

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would.

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that.

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable.

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here.

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days.

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!”

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast.

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down.

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there.

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be.

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you.

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly.

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn.

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

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Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground.

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead.

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything.

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to.

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

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The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room.

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings.

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness.

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet.

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away.

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you.

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino

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starlightstevie · 4 years ago

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fics rec / january 2021

And I’m back with another fic rec! There’s some absolute goodies in this month’s rec - I hope you enjoy them as much as I did! Happy reading x

(* is smut)

*tale as old as time (series) by @spacelabrathor Beast!Thor x reader: Thor is a beast, prowling the halls of an empty castle alone, living a life of cold, barren solitude. Villagers visit once yearly to bring him gifts he does not seek, piling valueless trinkets at his gate they feel will keep him appeased. They hate Thor and Thor knows, someday, that they will breach his gates and come for his head. He wonders to himself, often, if he will try to stop them when they do. This year, though, the offering has changed. Thor finds not trinkets at his front gate, but a girl, and then everything begins to change.

COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR by @inthorantine While not officially out yet, I am putting this here because everyone needs to read this! Kait has outdone herself and no, I will not stop talking about this for the next 500 years. Here’s some h/c to keep you going until it comes out! One | Two

*if I love you was a promise by @blueberrythor Thor x reader: Thor doesn’t consider himself a jealous man–there aren’t many who could compare to him, especially among mortals. He hasn’t had much reason to acquaint himself with the feeling. But watching you with Steve, even he isn’t immune to the sharp sting of jealousy.

*The Watching by @opheliadawnwalker3 Thor x reader (some Loki x reader): Reader has been dating Thor for about a year and is celebrating her first Yuletide on Asgard. But she’s unprepared for certain traditions that are expected of her. Or that these traditions also involve Thor and his companions.

*Desperate Measures by @lancsnerd Thor x reader: When an agent is affected by sex pollen and needs assistance, just how helpful will Thor be?

*passionate & burning by @peachyteabuck Thor x reader: You’re busy with working from home, but Thor has other plans for the day.

*my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by @spacelabrathor Frontier!Thor x reader: Thor makes a home and a life for his family out on the rugged frontier of the Old West. The winters are unforgiving but he keeps them safe and warm. At night, their cabin glows with firelight and the warmth of their company. A small slice of their life together.

*survive the summer and its sequel *hungry for me by @peachyteabuck (Dubcon) Thor x reader: A stranger approaches you on a warm summers day.

*the fluffer (series) by @punani Masterlist 70′s pornstar!Chris Evans x black!reader: It’s the 70′s and the erotic videos industry is experiencing another boom after the risen popularity in the previous decade. The studio’s are hot, Gemini Flanagan is a brand, and you’re a newly hired assistant at Shaggin’ Studios. Chris takes a liking to you, altering your job description so that you get to work more closely with him. Is this all just physical, or is there something more?

*old flannel by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: an innocent night of lounging in his old flannel leads to not to innocent touches.

*sunday football by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Chris sits you on his lap as he teaches you all about football.

*grocery run by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Innocently wearing Chris’ shirt leads to you finding out just how much he can’t resist you.

*Captain by @chrissquares Nomad!Steve x reader: You call Steve a name that drives him wild.

*A Birthday Gift by @the-iceni-bitch Nomad!Steve x reader: The nomad crew have been holed up with you for months and tensions are high. Nat, being an unrepentant pot stirrer, decides to arrange a pleasant birthday surprise for you.

*let me come home to you (series) by @evansweaters Masterlist Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in amber’s end, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

*mountainside by @honeysucklesteve Nomad!Steve x reader: Steve needs something to give him a release and you do just that.

*steve needs to relax, good thing you’re here by @honeysucklesteve

*Such a Shame by @angrythingstarlight Steve x reader: You owe him for saving your life, the price is more than you were willing to pay, such a shame you have to force his hand.

*Captain Jealousy by @nony-bear Steve x reader: You and Steve have been keeping your relationship a secret to avoid public backlash for your age difference. However, after watching Steve flirt with a new agent at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties, your jealousy and frustration come to a head.

*A Christmas Compromise by @stargazingfangirl18 Ransom x reader: Even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, all you wanted for Christmas was Ransom.

*a man of god by @punani Priest!Ransom x reader: You’ve always been a good girl– attending mass regularly, never been touched by yourself or another, and the way that you dress? a naive innocence radiates off of you. even a man of god can’t help himself, not that he puts any effort into refraining from forbidden fruit.

*Naughty or Nice by @sweeterthanthis Ransom x reader: Getting caught nibbling on forbidden holiday treats.

*her cherry lips on his whiskey flavoured kiss by @cloudystevie Ransom x reader: The moment he met you, he knew.

Not My Style by @chrissquares Ransom x reader: With cold weather comes dry lips..

*In Good Hands by @ozarkthedog (Dark) Doctor!Andy Barber x reader: Your usual OBGYN Doctor got called away leaving Dr. Barber to administer your pap exam.

*Drowning by @savior-adriana Andy x reader: You love working as Jacob’s tutor in German. Not necessarily because you love the language or the teen’s attitude, but because it means you get to spend time alone with a certain Andy Barber once a week.

*Something Old, Something New by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.

*Beg for Daddy by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: The thought of your mother passed out next door, the other side of your bedroom wall, did nothing to quell the intense hunger you felt for him.

*it’s the right time to roll to me (series) by @blueberrythor Masterlist Bucky x married!reader: Stuck in an unhappy marriage, you find solace in Bucky.

*about last week by @xbuchananbarnes Bucky x reader: You’ve been avoiding Bucky.

*need by @cloudystevie Bucky x reader: You’re horni for Bonky’s metal hand

Season of the Witch by @msmarvelwrites Bucky x reader: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

*The Bet (series) by @no-droids Part One | Part Two Poe x reader: There are 3 rules to the bet between you and your x-wing commander: No sex, No touching yourself, No orgasms.

*the shakes by @whistlingwillows Poe x reader: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

Mornings with Modern!Poe by @okay-hotshot Modern!Poe x reader: You and Poe try to have some alone time while you wait for your morning coffee and tea to brew, only to have your child interrupt you and run away yowling.

frigid by @whirlybirbs Mando x reader: Din doesn’t like the ocean. You’re soaked.

Getting vulnerable with Mando by @cptnbvcks

*men of the bau: kinks by @luciilferss

open road by @gayprentiss Emily Prentiss x JJ Jareau: After retiring from the BAU, JJ and Emily decide to forgo an apartment in favor of an old sprinter van.

*Teacher’s Pet by @imagining-in-the-margins Professor!Reid x reader: There are only a few reasons to sign up for Criminal Psychology. You could be like the reasonable students and join the class because you are genuinely interested in the material, or you could be like the rest of us. That is, you could enroll in the class because the professor is a fine piece of ass fresh out of prison.

*Spencer taking you in the library by @spenciebabie

*of terrible coffee and late-night rides by @venusbarnes Hotch x reader: A collection of moments throughout your relationship with one Aaron Hotchner.

*fragrance by @whistlingwillows College!Hotch x reader: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

*bitter end (series) by @whistlingwillows Masterlist Hotch x reader: Author Sarah Dessen wrote, “Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend.”

*Beard Kink by @reidsexualwriting Hotch x reader: Hotch with a beard has you feeling all types of ways.

*Lunch break by @arganfics Hotch x reader: You help Hotch relax after a tough day.

*Early Mornings by @mrvltwimagines Hotch x reader: The very rare mornings where you wake up and your boyfriend was still home and in bed were definitely cherished by you.

*Do you like that? Being in control? by @writefasttalkevenfaster Hotch x reader: You decide that Hotch needs a break from being in charge.

*Waking up Hotch with a blowjob by @writefasttalkevenfaster

Taking a day off with Hotch by @ssahoodrathotchner

*eat until your blood sings by @peachyteabuck Tony Stark x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Clint Barton x Thor Odinson x reader: Gangbang with the Avengers.

*Anakin Skywalker has a big dick by @anakinswhore

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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years ago

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Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

series taglist: @angelreyesgirl89 @holl2712 @relaxing-najee @thedeviltohisangel @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @amorestevens @witching-hour @seize-the-droid @rosieposie0624 @sesamepancakes @est1887 @queenbeered @ticosas @blessedboo @helli4nthus @katjusja @melanicia @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @moneteguiza

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#lost one of tommy's scenes and retyped it off memory #so hopefully it's good lol #but let me know what you think?#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #lover of mine

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fanfics4all · 4 years ago

Text

Arranged Marriage

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Parkinson!Reader

Word count: 2320

Warnings: Nothing I think?

Y/N: Your Name

A/N: Possibly making this into a short series. Bingo card made by @slyttherins

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

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Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I had a free period and like most I spent it in the Great Hall reading a book. My slightly older sister was sitting with her friends at the other end of the table. They all hated me since I was the complete opposite of Pansy. She was mean, loud, had to be the center of attention, dramatic, and wasn’t incredibly bright. Despite all that I still loved her, even if I was one of her victims. The two of us only shared one thing, our crush on Draco Malfoy. Although she never knew about that and I would never tell her.

I was enjoying my book when a letter landed in front of me. I closed my book and glanced at it confused. My family’s owl sat on the table in front of me. I picked up the letter with my family’s crest stamped in emerald green wax and opened it.

‘Y/N,

Your Mother and I decided to arrange a marriage for you. We are concerned that if you make a decision like this on your own, you will make the wrong decision. It is no secret that we are disappointed in your association choices. Because of that, you are going to marry Draco Malfoy. Next time you return home, you will be engaged. Once you both graduate you will be married and produce heirs for both our households. This is to ensure the blood-line.

~Philip’

I stared at the letter with wide eyes. I glanced over at Draco, who was reading a letter of his own. I turned my attention back to my book and decided to ignore the letter until I returned home.

“What’s in the letter Drakie?” Pansy asked and I rolled my eyes at her horrid nickname for him.

“Nothing, just Father informing me of a dinner party we’ll be having next time I return home.” He answered her. I was surprised he didn’t tell her, or maybe his family didn’t tell him his fate yet…

Later that night, after all classes and dinner had been finished, I was sitting in the corner of the common room working on homework. It was really just me in here, besides a few first years. However, when the door opened and Draco walked in everyone’s eyes were on him.

“Everyone out.” He said and all the first years scurried off to who knows where. I simply stayed in my place, ignoring his command.

“Parkinson.” He said and I glanced up to find him standing in front of me now.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m sure you got a letter telling you about our situations as well.” He said and I simply nodded. So he did just choose not to tell my sister. Interesting…

“You better not tell anyone about this.” He said and I looked back down at my homework.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I said, simply.

“Because if you do- wait, what?” He asked, cutting himself off.

“I said I wasn’t planning on it. My Father didn’t tell my sister for a reason and honestly I’d rather her not know until it’s too late. I don’t need her bullying to get any worse, or yours for that matter. So, we can just pretend it isn’t happening until the dinner, then we’ll figure it out from there. I wouldn’t want to stain your reputation you’ve worked so hard to preserve.” I said, not even sparing him a glance. I wanted him to know I didn’t care, even though I was a bit excited to be marrying him.

“Um, right. Well then, till the dinner.” He said and left me to be.

The months leading up to the dinner felt like nothing had changed. I suppose nothing has changed yet. Draco was still a bully along with his friends and I was their helpless victim. My sister still clung to Draco any chance and he was still annoyed by her actions. A very small part of me wanted to rub it in her face that I was the one to be marrying him, but I wasn’t that type of person. When it was finally time to return home for a short time, I spent the whole train ride thinking about the dinner to come. When everyone stepped off the train, Pansy hugged Draco goodbye and then she made her way over to our parents.

“Girls! How has school been?” Mother asked with a smile.

“It’s been alright, that Potter boy is incredibly annoying. Just because he ‘survived’ the Dark Lord’s attack he’s special? He was a bloody baby.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

“He doesn’t want the fame.” I said.

“You would know, traitor!” She hissed.

“Enough girls!” Father said and I bowed my head.

“Sorry Father…” I said, even though I never truly did anything wrong I always felt like I needed to apologize constantly.

“There will be no fighting while you are home, is that understood?” He said.

“Yes Father.” We said in unison.

“Good, now let’s go home.” He said.

A few days had gone by and my parents hadn’t mentioned anything about the dinner to me. I was sitting in the den reading, while my Mother was having a cup of tea and my Father was reading the paper.

“Pansy, come down here please!” Father called her.

“Yes?” She asked, walking into the room.

“Aunt Paisley wanted to take you shopping tonight, would you like to go?” He asked.

“Is Y/N coming?” She asked.

“No, just you.” He answered and her eyes lit up.

“Really? Just me and Auntie?” She asked and Father nodded.

“Oh yes! I’d love to go!” She said and rushed upstairs to get ready.

“Hurry dear! Your Aunt is already waiting for you!” Mother called.

“I’ll be finished in a moment!” She called back. Sure enough after ten minus she was back downstairs, dressed to go out. It was the fastest I’ve ever seen her get ready.

“Right, take some floo powder and go to her house, she’s waiting for you there.” Father said and she nodded.

“She said you can stay the night if you’d like.” Mother mentioned.

“Oh yes please!” Pansy said, happily. She gave me a nasty smirk before taking some powder and saying our Aunt’s house. Off she went to have a nice night out with our Aunt.

“Now, you go upstairs and get ready, your Mother picked out a dress for you to wear tonight.” Father said and I looked at my parents confused.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“The dinner, we’re going to Malfoy Manor.” He answered and I was even more confused.

“Why isn’t Pansy coming?” I asked.

“Because, as much as we love your sister, we don’t want to hear her complain about your engagement for the rest of our lives. So she’ll find out when we’ve already planned the wedding and you two are getting married.” He answered and I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“You’re lucky Draco didn’t tell her when he got his letter.” I said, placing my book on the table and went off to my room. Laying on my bed was a simple emerald green dress, with a slit down the side, and silver accents on both wrists. There were a pair of simple silver heels to match. I smiled at the outfit, it was really quite beautiful. Once I was dressed I did a simple spell to get my hair and makeup perfect.

I walked downstairs and my parents were both ready to go. My Mother offered me her hand which I accepted and the three of us apparated to Malfoy Manor. The sky was already starting to darken, but the sun still peaked out, giving the sky a beautiful painting of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows. We walked up the steps and my Father knocked on the door. A house-elf answered and I smiled, earring a glare from my Father. I bowed my head, he never liked how well I treated them. He always said those creatures deserve no kindness. I thought differently, house-elves deserved plenty of kindness, after all they’re very helpful. I always snuck into the kitchen at night and had lovely conversations with our house-elves, being careful not to catch the attention of anyone else in the house.

“Mr. Parkinson, Mrs. Parkinson, Miss. Parkinson, please come in.” The little house-elf said.

“Wolkey will inform Master of your arrival.” He said and left to get the Malfoys.

“Ah, Philip, Oliva, Y/N, so glad you could make it.” Lucius said while shaking my Father’s hand.

“What a lovely dress Y/N, don’t you think so Draco.” Narcissa said, gently nudging her son.

“Yes, it’s a very lovely color on you.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

The dinner was normal, our parents discussing business relations while Draco and I simply ate. It wasn’t until dinner was cleared and dessert was being served that the atmosphere changed.

“I believe Draco has something to ask you Y/N.” Narcissa said with a smile. Draco cleared his throat and walked over to me on the other side of the table. He gently grabbed my hand and kept his other in his pocket.

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were children and you’ve always been such a beauty. We’ve been friends for a while, but now I feel we should be more. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked. I could tell they weren’t his words, but they still made my heart flutter. Everyone looked at me expectantly, like I could say anything other than yes.

“Yes Draco, I’d love to.” I smiled. Draco smiled and took out a sliver snake ring with a small emerald, the Malfoy family crest engraved on the bottom.

Draco took my hand and placed the ring on my finger.

“Draco, why don’t you take Y/N into the garden, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Narcissa said and Draco nodded. He gently helped me up and led me outside to the porch, looking over the garden.

“That was all my Mother.” He stated as soon as we were away from our families.

“I know.” I smiled at him and he looked at me confused.

“How can you smile in a moment like this? You’re being forced into a marriage.” He asked confused.

“I can tell you Mother picked out all the flowers.” I said, changing the subject. Before he could say anything I walked down the steps into the garden.

“Hey! Wait!” He said and followed after me.

“Will you answer my question?” He said, slightly annoyed.

“Have you ever looked around here and really took notice of the beauty in your backyard?” I asked.

“I’ve looked around here plenty if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh look, you have some wilting flowers.” I frowned. I kneeled down and cupped the flowers gently.

“What are you doing? You’ll get your dress dirty.” He said, but I ignored him.

“Herbivicus” I whispered and the flowers grew to their original form. I stood up and smiled, glancing at Draco who had a shocked expression on his face.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked.

“A book I read.” I answered.

“You learned that just from a book?” He asked.

“Yes, I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything I’ve read or what people have said to me.” I answered and looked down at my dress. There were some dirt spots, my parents would be upset with me.

“Scourgify” I said and my dress was good as new.

“The reason I can smile about our situation is because I’ll be making my parents proud for the first time since they’ve heard I’m friends with people they call traitors. I love my family, even my sister, shocking as that is, family is important to me and I’d like to make them proud of me. So if marrying you is what it takes then so be it. Perhaps we could even fall in love with each other, or even just be friends.” I finally answered his question.

“You really are quite strange, aren’t you?” He said after a moment.

“I just think on the positive side.” I smiled at him.

“We can’t tell my sister until the very last minute, by the way, my parents don’t want to hear her complaints.” I mentioned and he gave a light chuckle.

“I suppose even they don’t enjoy her company.” He said and I shook my head.

“They love her, but yes, sometimes they don’t enjoy her complaining.” I answered.

“How are you going to explain the ring?” He asked.

“A surprise gift from my Aunt, that’s where Pansy is right now.” I answered and he gave another light chuckle.

“Smart.” He said.

“What if she tries to take it from you?” He asked.

“You know my sister well.” I giggled.

“My Father is going to spell the ring so only you or I can take it off. And if I need to take it off for whatever reason I have a spelled jewelry box, she’ll need my voice, DNA, and wand to get it open.” I answered with a smirk.

“Very smart.” He said, slightly shocked.

“I like to take caution when it comes to my sister. It’s a very beautiful ring, thank you.” I smiled.

“It’s tradition that the Malfoy proposing makes a special ring with the crest engraved on it. My Mother had it made, but asked for my opinion before it was finished.” He said and I smiled at him.

“Still think this is a bad thing?” I asked.

“Suppose there could be worse people to be forced to marry…” He said.

“I’ll take that as a complement.” I said and stared down at the ring that fit perfectly on my finger. This was really happening. I was going to marry Draco Malfoy.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @dracoswhvre

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jamielea81 · 4 years ago

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Conversations

Bonus Chapter: Colorado

Description: Takes place a year and a half after the first bonus chapter Back to the Beginning. The reader and Chris are married with life changes ahead. Original description for the series Conversations: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader, Scott Evans

Warning: Slightly NSFW (18+ only!), cursing, talk of pregnancy, fluff, Grumpy and Sassy shenanigans.

A/N: Look who finally wrote a bonus chapter for Conversations! This girl, right here! Just a little timestamp in the reader and Chris’ life. And of course we needed some Scott time. You do not have to read the series to read this one shot, but it doesn’t hurt. Reblogs, comments, asks, what have you, I enjoy.

Italics are internal thoughts

“Honestly, love, it’s fine,” you spoke softly into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice even. The last thing you want is for him to feel worse than he already does.

“I don’t know…” Chris trailed off. “Usually, when women say the word fine, they really don’t mean, fine.”

“Such a guy,” you chuckle. “I promise, Scott and I are going to have a terrific time. He’s taking care of me and promised not to get us into any trouble.” You raise an eyebrow at your travel companion seated next to you in the hired car.

Chris laughed and then followed it up with a groan. “That does not make me feel better. Put me on speaker.”

You rolled your eyes but did as he asked or rather demanded. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Scott, you better take care of my wife. She’s precious cargo. And she’s carrying precious cargo. So, it’s extra precious cargo.”

You laughed; hand automatically going to your stomach. You were four months along and just starting to show. Family and close friends knew the two of you were expecting your first child, but the tabloids had not caught wind. The two of you had been going back and forth on whether to let People Magazine do an exclusive cover shoot when baby Evans is born. The money earned from People would be donated to charity which was the only reason you were even considering it. Plus, the whole you two breaking the news rather than the public finding out when you weren’t ready. Chris wanted to be the one to introduce his child to the world rather than having paparazzi sneaking into your backyard to get a picture. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Would you relax! You’re going to give yourself a coronary and then I’d have to take care of both precious cargos and you don’t want that.” Scott shouted.

I really hope the driver doesn’t recognize Scott.

You smacked his arm, taking the call off speaker and bringing it back to your ear. “Chris, we are both going to be just fine. The plane ride was as relaxing as any plane ride can be and we are almost to the hotel. Scott and I are going to pamper ourselves and eat lots of great food. Work is important and I completely understand.”

Chris got called back to Los Angeles for reshoots that he couldn’t get out of. He planned a couple of mini babymoons and this was going to be the first one. Because of your advanced age – insert eyeroll – your doctor had mentioned it may not be safe to travel a lot once you were six months along. Chris took this seriously and booked a trip to Colorado at a gorgeous snowy mountain resort. There wouldn’t be any skiing, just loads of alone time and cuddling by the fireplace. When Chris had to cancel, Scott stepped in and volunteered the cuddles.

“This is one of the many reasons I love you. I’m just disappointed our romantic getaway is now being shared with Scott. My brother,” he said, voice in mock disgust.

“It’s fine. Scott and I haven’t hung out just the two of us in forever.” Scott reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a great time and rest please.”

“You know I will. I love you, babe. Say hi to Pedro for me,” you said, smile evident in your voice.

“I will. Love you too.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans?” The check in clerk, Barbara according to her nametag asked.

“That’s right,” Scott chimed in, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Newlyweds.”

You forced a smile and bit the inside of your cheek so that you wouldn’t laugh.

“Congratulations!” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

She tapped her chin with her index finger before going back to her keyboard. “Let’s see what I can do here,” Barbara replied, typing away on the computer in front of her. “We have you in a one-bedroom suite with a mountain view, but,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I’m moving the two of you to one of our honeymoon suites.”

Scott gasped and slapped his hand on the countertop. “That’s mighty nice of you,” he spoke in a fake southern accent.

Where did that come from?

“Me and the misses really appreciate it. Don’t we honey?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

“My pleasure,” Barbara said before you could reply, laying two room keycards on the counter next to Scott’s hand.

You smiled brightly but kept your mouth closed, so afraid of letting a chuckle out or saying the wrong thing. Scott steered you away from the counter, placing a hand on your bottom.

Once you turned the corner to the bank of elevators, you yanked Scott’s hand off your behind.

“Newlyweds. Really?”

“It got us an upgrade, didn’t it dear?”

The first night you were fine. Scott kept you occupied with stories of the single life and the wonders of online dating. You weren’t sure how he did it. Or rather, how he didn’t. After he told you about the guy who wore Barney the dinosaur underwear in a child’s size husky, you laughed until you cried.

“But did you still sleep with him?” you asked wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Sassy! Of course not. Barneeeeyyyy,” he drawled out.

Shrugging your shoulders, you got up to grab yourself a tissue from the bathroom. Coming back in the room, Scott was on his phone, fingers swiping feverously. You plopped down on the couch, tucking one leg under yourself.

“Here,” Scott said, handing you his phone. On screen was what you would refer to as tall, dark, and handsome.

“He’s hot,” you said, passing the phone back to him.

“Barney.”

“No,” you gasped.

Scott sighed before he started to laugh which got you going once again.

The second day you weren’t so fine. The two of you ordered breakfast in the suite. Pancakes dripping with syrup, crispy thick cut bacon, sausage links, a bowl of mixed fruit, and decaf coffee because Scott was in solidarity with you on your caffeine hiatus.

“Let’s go for a walk. There are tons of trails that the resort clears of snow. I need to work off this breakfast,” Scott said patting his stomach.

“You and me both,” you said, getting up to put on actual clothes instead of the pajamas you were still wearing.

“You are so lucky. Get to eat whatever you want and can just blame it on the baby.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face him, lower lip slightly wobbling. Since the minute you found out you were pregnant, you found it really hard to control your emotions. You knew Scott didn’t mean anything by the commit, but your brain couldn’t help itself.

“I have to work really hard to be healthy. It’s bad enough the doctor said I’m old.” A sob escapes your lips. The tears already starting to roll down your cheeks. “I can’t have any caffeine, can’t eat a lot of my favorite foods, have to cut back on my salt. My salt! You know fries are my jam. Doesn’t help that my husband is built like a fucking Greek God. I’m not a model or an actress. I already feel like Dodger’s poo compared to him.”

Scott was out of his seat before you could utter another word. Strong arm pulling you to his chest while one hand cradled your head.

“Stop that. You are fucking beautiful and frankly my bonehead brother is lucky you agreed to marry him. Do you even know how many times I have had to leave the room in the last two months when he starts talking about you growing his child inside you and that it turns him on?” Scott pulls away slightly an emulates puking.

“Stop,” you said, burying your head in his neck.

“Why is my neck wet, Sassy.”

“It’s snot,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your arm around him and holding on tight.

“You two are meant for each other.”

After a minute he pulled away and grasped both of your hands. “I’m with you in any way you need. If you need a healthy eating buddy, I am your man. If you want to say ‘to hell with it’, I’ll pick up McDonalds for the two of us every day if you like.”

You wiped at your eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I love you Grumpy.”

“Love you too,” he replied and then clapped his hands together. “So, are we napping or are we walking?”

“Walking,” you stated, making your way into the bedroom to finally get changed.

That evening, the two of you got dressed up and went to your dinner reservation at the hotel where you were addressed as Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Scott stuck to sparkling water even though you encouraged him to get an alcoholic beverage.

“I don’t need to drink to be the life of the party. You know that.”

He wasn’t wrong. He’d kept you entertained even without the raspberry liquor he force fed you years ago.

“I think we need a dance party when we get back to the room. For old time sakes. Before I am too big to shake it.”

“Done and done.”

The night ended in a bubble bath with both you and Scott in your swimsuits in an oversized soaking tub. Dozens of pictures were taken with many going to your husband. Rather than a text in return, he called.

“What is this? My brother movin’ in on my wife?”

“Babe! You know that it was me and Scott from the start,” you teased.

Chris chuckled. “You go away for a couple of days and it’s like that.”

“You know you are my one and only. Scott’s just making me smile.”

“I know baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you said.

The next day you were weepy. As much as you tried to put on a happy face, you were missing Chris. Pregnancy hormones or not, Chris had been working a lot and you had barely seen each other. This romantic babymoon wasn’t what you had in mind. Yes, spending it with your best friend was great, but it wasn’t the same.

The fire place was roaring while Magic Mike was queued up on the flat screen. You and Scott were dressed in jeans and cable knit sweaters with fuzzy socks on your feet. The snow was coming down heavy which was fine with you since neither of you had any place to be.

Pop in hand, though you wouldn’t let Scott hear you call soda that, diet for you, regular for him, the only thing you were needing was Dodger’s wet nose on your stomach and Chris.

“You know, Chris can do that,” you said pointing at the screen where one of the dancers picked up an audience member like she weighed a pound.

“No. Stop. Do not ruin this movie for me. I do not need to picture what you and my brother do.”

“Scott, you do know where babies come from, right?”

“Gross.”

You chuckled, standing up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Why you brought up Chris when you already cried twice this morning was beyond you. After using the bathroom, you cleaned up your face and stepped back into the living room of your suite.

Scott draped himself over the couch, phone in hand, eyes shifting between the screen of his phone and the TV.

“I think I’m going to take another bath. Need to relax a little bit.”

Scott looked up. “Not too hot.”

“Yes, dad,” you said, offering him a mock salute.

You kept the bath water warm, but added extra oils and bubbles to make it feel more luxurious. The lights were off but a few candles were lit and your phone played 90s R&B. You snapped a pic of your soapy legs and sent it to Chris. Within a few minutes you had a reply.

Chris: My brother better not be in there

Y/N: I’m all alone

Chris: We can’t have that

You heard the door open and you scolded yourself for not locking the door. This text conversation seemed to be heading into rated R territory. You did not need Scott to witness that.

“Scott,” you drawled out. “I’m not wearing my suit tonight. Get out of here.”

When you heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle, you turned around. Rather than Scott dropping his pants, it was Chris.

You gasped, mouth hanging open.

“Room for one more sweetheart?”

You nodded your head unable to form words but those tears had no trouble forming.

Chris continued to undress while you tried your best to compose yourself. He joined you a moment later slipping in behind you.

“How? I thought you were working.”

“I put in some long hours so that I could get to you. I was miserable without you.”

“I know that feeling,” you replied, leaning your head against his chest. Chris lightly rubbing your stomach before sliding his hands up to your breasts, fingers tips rubbing against your nipples. “Babe, did you lock the door?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I got Scott another room.”

You reached your left hand behind you grabbing on to Chris’ head bringing his mouth to yours. Chris kissed you deeply, your back automatically arching at the taste of his tongue.

“Was he mad?” you asked.

“I don’t even care,” he replied, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Neither do I.”

Tagging: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @xoxabs88xox @heartislubbingdubbing @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @dangerouslovefanfic@kelbabyblue @sweetlittlegingy @dont-need-another-fandom @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @southerngracela @bitterstar88 @squirrelnotsam @kitkatd7 @marvelislove10 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @hista-girl @cocomel0613 @also-fangirlinsweden @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @straightforwardly @torntaltos @denise1605 @mcuclintasha @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom @chrisevansforever @kelbabyblue @broadwayandnetflix @kyjey @thevelvetseries @i-just-feel-like @daddieslittlefangirl @stankface @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @whymalu @mariswritingforfun @tessabb7 @lakamaa12 @deidrashouseofpain @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @greyeyedsmile14 @dangerouslovefanfic @ripvandrinkle @bitterstar88 @zestygingergirl @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @onceuponathreetwoone @supraveng @michelehansel @fanfictionaffair @agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today @jessyballet @capstopavenger @wiczer @titty-teetee

#chris evans #scott evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans imagine #conversations

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starksinthenorth · 3 years ago

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Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite.

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II),

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself.

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.

#asoiaf meta #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #cersei lannister #arya stark

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

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Sub Rosa [101]

101. including bellamy (the epilogue)

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 18.6k

Warnings: angst, death, anxiety, pregnancy/birth (and maybe it's not the most factual but so what), lots of fluff and happiness, mentions of blood, smut, nausea and puking, language.

Summary: the last update of sub rosa takes you through some moments of your life with bellamy after you reject transcendence.

a/n: this is it you guys! see the end for my final sub rosa author’s note!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

24 hours after Transcendence

You stand at the door of the bunker, staring into the darkness, trying to talk yourself into going inside.

But you can't bring yourself to do it, because that makes all of this real, and you don't want to accept that.

As you try to psych yourself up, you feel a hand slip into your own, and you turn to face Bellamy, a sympathetic smile on his face. “You don't have to go in. Murphy and I can get it done without you.”

You shake your head, thankful for the offer, but well aware that you can't accept it. “No, I need to do this. Gabriel deserves to have a proper burial. We couldn't do it for Diyoza or Kane or my mother, so I need this. I have to see this through.”

Bellamy nods, understanding. “We can wait as long as you like.”

You put on a brave face, looking up at your fiance. “I got this.”

And then you step inside.

You lead Murphy and Bellamy back to the rec room, where Gabriel’s body remains, untouched since you all left him there to save Madi. Bellamy helps you change him into clean clothes, unstained by blood, something more akin to what he’d usually wear. You also clean the blood from his face, and by the end, it’s easy for you to pretend that he’s just sleeping. That Gabriel Santiago is not dead, he’s just taking a long nap. In a few minutes, he’ll jump up, ready for dinner, cracking some joke about being ready to eat, even when he’s sleeping.

Of course, that isn't the reality. And once you're ready, Murphy and Bellamy load him onto a stretcher and carry him out of the bunker, out into the woods where the others are standing beside a grave that is already dug and waiting. On your way out, your eyes land on the piano, black blood staining some of the white keys. You pause and stare at it, Gabriel’s cup of alcohol still sitting on the edge, right where he left it before he was stabbed. You feel yourself start to choke up, and you step away from the piano, intending to join the others outside when something catches your eye. A sheet of music beside the others, a familiar scrawl in the corner.

You reach out and pick it up, tears springing to your eyes when you read the title of the song.

Clair de lune.

And off to the side, framed by music notes, is a message. One line, simple, but it’s enough to make you cry again.

For mi cielito.

You hear a sound out in the hall and you grab the sheet of music, swiping away your tears as you fold it into quarters and tuck it into your pocket, running outside to join the others.

There are no dry eyes as Gabriel is lowered into the ground, and you all collectively say one last Traveler’s Blessing for him, mourning the loss of your friend and family. Everyone whispers their final ‘may we meet again’s,’ and file away, one by one, leaving only you and Bellamy. You walk to the edge of the grave and look down at Gabriel’s peaceful face, your mind thinking back to his final moments. You still don't know if his final words were a love confession, but looking back on the years you spent with him and the sheet of music in your back pocket, you think that maybe it was a confession. You hate that you’ll never know for sure, but you do get a sense of comfort in knowing that he’s at peace now.

He was ready to die ten years ago, before he was unwillingly put into a new body, but now, he’s at peace. He’s probably with Josephine and Russell and the other Primes, watching all of you from the stars. He lived a full life, a few of them actually, and got to answer some of his biggest questions about the Anomaly and the Anomaly Stone. And maybe that’s enough.

Bellamy steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “Are you okay, natshana?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“About Gabriel?”

You hum in agreement and stand silent for a moment before you reach into your pocket and pull out the sheet music, unfolding it so Bellamy can see it. You both look at it, and you can hear his mind silently putting together the pieces before you quietly add, “I think he confessed his love for me before dying.”

You don’t know why you say it to him, because it's not like it matters now. And you’re not even sure what your feelings for Gabriel would have been like had he survived, but you're sure of your feelings for Bellamy. If Bellamy really had died in Sanctum and Gabriel had lived instead, you’re sure you could have loved him. But he would have never been your soulmate, because that title belongs to Bellamy. Bellamy is a part of you, the same way Clarke is a part of you, his fate and existence intertwined with your own in every way.

You start to grow nervous when Bellamy doesn't say anything, afraid you’ve hurt him, but he finally breaks his silence when he whispers, “I’m glad he was there for you when I couldn't be. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

“Me too.”

Bellamy tightens his grip around your waist a little, lifting his head to press a kiss into your hair. “Besides, you’re easy to love.”

You turn your head and smile at him. “Are you using my own line on me?”

“Is it working?”

You smile at him, lifting your hand and placing it over his hand that’s resting on your stomach. “A little. Too bad we’re stuck in tents right now.”

“Is that supposed to stop me?”

You let out a surprised snort of laughter and shake your head. “Enough.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek. “There’s the smile I was missing.”

“It’s hard losing people. I know so many of us have survived, despite the odds continuously stacked against us, but I still feel like we’ve lost so much.”

“I know, la lune.” He tightens his grip on you before stepping away and turning you to face him. “But things will be different now. We’re building a new life here and we’re going to do better. We’re going to honor all those we’ve lost by living long, peaceful lives, the way they’d all want us to.”

You nod your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

You lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, accepting the comfort he offers you. When you finally pull away, you both turn towards the open grave, Gabriel still waiting to be buried. Bellamy grabs the shovels, passing you one, and as the two of you start to drop dirt around him, you whisper one last time, “La muerte es la vida.”

6 months after Transcendence

You roll over with a huff, turning to look at the ceiling of your tent, cursing yourself for not taking up Octavia’s offer to sleep in their guest bed.

You thought you could handle a couple more weeks in the tent with Bellamy, but your aching back and stiff limbs are starting to tell you otherwise. Everyone’s permanent homes are being built one by one, everyone focusing on one home at a time, finding that makes the process much faster. You, Wonkru, the Eligius prisoners, and even some of the Sanctumites have been sharing the workload, moving from one group to the next to keep things fair. You and Bellamy are next on the list for your people, but there’s one house for someone from Wonkru and one for someone from Eligius that needs to be built before you and Bellamy get your own place.

Meaning, you have at least a few more weeks of tent living before you get your own bed, and your own roof that doesn't leak when it rains too hard.

You sit up with a sigh, closing your eyes and stretching the stiffness from your arms and legs. As you're rubbing a knot out of your shoulder, Bellamy’s smiling face pokes into the tent, grinning at you as if he has the bet news. You give him an odd look, not appreciating his chipper energy when you’re feeling grumpy and sore. “What?”

“Let’s get married.”

You laugh a little and he steps inside of the tent fully. “You’ve already asked me that, Bellamy.”

“No, I mean, let’s get married today.”

“Today?” You shake your head, your brows pulling together. “We can't get married today. We have a house to help build.”

“Everyone could use a break.”

You counter, “We don’t have anything planned out.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Your jaw drops open a little as you look at him, trying to think of some other excuse why you can't marry your fiance today, but unable to find one. He smiles when he realizes that you’re speechless. “If you have no other objections, then you need to get to Sanctum.”

“Sanctum? Why?”

“You’ll see when you get there.” He passes you your boots and a pair of clean clothes, the large smile back on his face. “C'mon, get dressed. We have a lot to do and I need you out of here!”

You laugh a little as you quickly get dressed, stepping out of the tent to find Bellamy waiting. He leads you to the Anomaly Stone, pulling on the helmet in the room and getting the code for Sanctum, which he quickly types in. As the flash of green appears in front of you, he tugs off the helmet and sets it aside, turning to you with a bright smile. He places a quick kiss on your lips before ushering you towards the open Anomaly. “I’ll see you in a few hours. I love you!”

You turn to look at him with bewilderment, unused to this playful energy, as you call back, “I love you more than the stars!”

You step into the Anomaly, appearing in the palace of Sanctum. The room has been mostly cleared out by this point, Sheidheda’s throne destroyed, the blood staining the ground, Bellamy’s included, now scrubbed away. The palace primarily serves as a transportation hub at this point, shelves lining the walls with disciple helmets placed on them, waiting to be used.

You look around at the empty room, confused as to why you’re here, and as you start to walk towards the door, someone comes running in, an apologetic smile on their face. “Sorry I’m late, we got busy at the tavern!”

“Blythe Ann? What am I doing here?”

Blythe Ann smiles and motions for you to follow her before she turns and heads out the door. You jog to catch up, her voice floating back to you. “Bellamy wanted you to stay here so they could get things ready back on Earth. Plus, you left a few things here.”

You follow her from the palace and over to the tavern, where she leads you to the base of the stairs that lead to your former living quarters. You stand looking up at it, and she motions to the top. “Go on.”

You give her a look before tentatively climbing the stairs, moving down the hallway and pushing open the door to your former room. It’s empty, but it looks nearly identical to the way you left it years ago, back when you thought you'd only be gone for a few days. You had no idea it would be years.

The room is different though, because a long silver dress is stretched out on the bed, a gift from Delilah. You smile at it, walking across the room to the dress, running your hand over the fabric. As you do, something catches your eye, and you turn to look at the top of your bed, near the pillows, a yellow book with blue binding sitting beside your old pack. You reach out and grab the book with a smile, the cover stained with your blood and a little scorched. You open the book and flip the first few pages to the note that Bellamy wrote you years ago, reading it over again, tears springing to your eyes as you do.

And just as you finish the note, you hear a noise behind you, startling you. You drop the book on the bed and reach for your knife, an old habit that you still haven't broken, despite the six months of peace you’ve lived. But instead of finding a masked intruder or someone ready to kill you, you find Clarke, Octavia, Raven, Emori, Echo, Hope, Gaia, and Madi. They all look at you in surprise, holding up their hands in surrender, “Slow down there, we come bringing drinks!”

They all hold up cups and you smile, dropping your hand. “Sorry, old habit.”

They all file into the room and move over to you, each of them pulling you in for a hug in greeting. As you hug Gaia last, you look over them in confusion. “What are you all doing here?”

“We’re your wedding party!” You look at Emori, your confusion deepening. “Blythe Ann said it’s what they used to do on Earth before Praimfaya. Brides would have bridesmaids that stand at the altar to support them, and grooms have groomsmen to support them.”

Clarke smiles, “I know all those traditions were lost on the Ark, but we thought it might be nice to have a real wedding, like they used to.”

You smile at her, “How long have you been planning this?”

This time, it’s Octavia that answers. “My brother’s been working on this for weeks, and he has a very specific schedule for us to follow, so we better get started.”

“Okay then.” She passes you a drink, and now all of you have a cup in your hands. Clarke lifts it in the air, looking at you with a smile. “To the bride, our la lune!”

Everyone echoes, “To the bride!” before downing their drinks.

After that, your morning is a whirlwind of activity. Everyone helps you to get ready, and the morning is full of stories about Bellamy. Octavia tells you some from her childhood that you had never heard before, and Echo, Emori, and Raven share stories from the Ring. They help you get dressed in the silver dress, before helping you with your hair. And as you sit in your old room with your friends, you can't help but be overwhelmed by all the love you feel. You start to tear up, and Clarke is the first to notice. “La lune, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, quickly wiping away your tears as everyone turns to look at you. “Nothing, I'm just so happy.”

Everyone lets out a collective aw, and Clarke helps wipe away your tears. “Well, before we finish up your look, we should probably get the rest of your tears out of the way.”

“What do you mean?”

Emori, the resident wedding expert, steps forward. “There’s another tradition with weddings, and that’s for the bride to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.”

Clarke grabs your hand, turning it over before dropping something into your palm. “Something old, it symbolizes continuity and often incorporates something sentimental, passed down through the family.”

You look down at your open palm to find a ring, your father’s wedding ring, given back to your mother before he was floated. You thought it was lost after she was bodysnatched by Simone, but now you see that it’s not. You look up at Clarke with teary eyes, which overflow quickly and rush down your face. “Dad’s ring?”

“He would want you to have it, to give to Bellamy.” You feel yourself start to cry harder as she whispers, “He’d be so proud of you, la lune. Mom too.”

You reach out and pull her into a hug, whispering into her hair, “Thank you.”

The two of you share a moment before pulling apart, and Echo and Hope step forward next. “Something new, it symbolizes excitement for the future and a new chapter in your life.”

They each hold out a boot to you, new shoes for your wedding, but shoes that still fit your personality. You take them with a smile and hug them each, setting the shoes down as Madi steps forward, a chain clasped tight in her hand. “Something borrowed, for good luck.”

You look down at the necklace in her hand, a sun hanging from the chain, and you start to cry again as she steps forward and clasps it around your neck. You hug her as soon as she’s finished, a piece of your father and a piece of your mother now with you on your wedding day. When you and Madi pull apart, Raven and Emori step forward with matching smiles. “Something blue, to ward off evil spirits, but also a symbol of love, purity, and fidelity.”

They open their palms to reveal hair clips adorned with small blue moons, and you smile as you hug them both in thanks. They help to arrange the clips into your hair, and before you know it, you're ready to get married. You all take one more shot of Jo Juice for good luck before heading down the stairs and back to the palace, towards your wedding. You feel your nerves start to build with each step you take back towards Earth.

Blythe Ann, Jae, and a few others are waiting for you at the stone, and as someone enters the code back to Earth, Jae turns to you with a curious look. “Who’s walking you down the aisle?”

“What?”

“Typically, the father of the bride walks her down the aisle, and gives her away to her future husband.”

You shake your head, lost, unsure who could do that for you when your father is dead, Kane is dead, and your mother is dead. But just as you start to panic, you feel a hand slip into your own, and you look down to find your niece smiling up at you. “I’ll do it, ani. If you want me to.”

You smile back down at her, “I’d be honored if you walked me down the aisle, little sun.”

The two of you share a grin as the Anomaly is activated ahead of you, and in one large group, you step through, following the rest of the crowd as they lead you through the bunker and out into the warm afternoon air. The sun is beginning to lower in the sky, creating a golden glow over everything you see. You have no idea where you’re going, you just allow yourself to be led to your destination, trying to keep your mind off your nerves and focus on your excitement instead.

Finally, after a few minutes of walking, you all stop near a tree. The other wedding guests walk ahead of you, moving to find their seats, but your bridesmaids keep you hidden out of view, but also unable to see anything around you. Clarke reaches out to take the hand not held by Madi, and she gives you a reassuring smile. “One by one, we’re going to walk down the aisle ahead of you. Madi knows your cue, and she’ll walk you down to us. After that, just follow the lead. We’ll be right there with you if you need us.”

You smile at her, tears in your eyes again, “Thank you, Clarke. For everything.”

She smiles, shaking off your praise. “Don't thank me, thank your future husband when you see him.”

You smile at her, and one by one, your friends hug you before walking down the aisle ahead of you, a soft song playing over a set of speakers. It takes a second for you to realize that it’s Clair de lune, and you smile, another piece of your parents put into your wedding. And despite them not being here, you feel like they are. You feel their love everywhere, incorporated into everything around you, reminding you that they’ll never truly leave you.

You get so lost in your thoughts of your parents that you don't even realize Madi is starting to tug on your hand, until she whispers, “Ani, it’s time. Are you ready?”

You look down at your niece and smile. “I’m ready.”

She starts to walk, leading you around the large tree and into a clearing. There is an aisle cutting through two large groups of people, all of them standing and watching as you approach. Your eyes lift to the trees, where stars and moons of varying sizes hang down, catching the light of the setting sun, and it brings a smile to your face. At the end of the aisle is an arch adorned with flowers, and your friends stand on either side: Gaia, Raven, Emori, Echo, Hope, and Clarke stand on the left, and on the right is Octavia, Murphy, Miller, Jackson, Jordan, and Levitt. But you don't focus on any of them, because as soon as you catch sight of Bellamy, your eyes never leave his face.

He is watching you intensely, tears streaming down his face, which makes you start to cry too. He’s dressed in a suit, which he must have gotten from someone in Sanctum, and though the sight is a little startling at first, he also looks good. He shaved once he joined Cadogan’s cause, but once all of you decided to return back to Earth, he started to grow out his beard again, reminding you of the scruffy man that saved your life from Diyoza and her prisoners a few years ago. The freckles that dot his face and cheeks are prolific, thanks to the days that all of you spend in the sun, and his eyes are sparkling in the golden hour light. And though you think he looks good every single day, you think he looks beautiful right now. You sear the image into your memory, never wanting to forget how he looks in this moment.

You finally reach the end of the aisle, and Madi passes you off to Bellamy, who leans in for a quick kiss. They exchange a quick hug before Madi moves to stand beside Octavia, switching places with Murphy, and you turn to Bellamy and whisper, “You did all of this?”

He grins, “You like it?”

“Bellamy, I love it.”

His smile grows even wider, and you melt, wishing you could stay in this moment forever. As the two of you stand smiling at each other, Murphy comes to stand beside the two of you, beneath the arch, and you turn to look at him. He smiles at you, “You look beautiful.”

You smile back and counter, “You look good too, for a cockroach.”

He laughs a little before lifting his voice to address the crowd, which is now sitting and watching all of you closely. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate a wedding between our favorite couple. I’ve never officiated a wedding before, but honestly, I already know that I’m going to be good at it.”

The crowd snickers and you and Bellamy exchange an eye roll as Murphy continues, “I’ve heard from reliable sources that weddings on Earth before Praimfaya were long and boring, but this wedding will be anything but that. We have a party to get to after this, so I’m gonna keep it short.”

He pauses and looks you and Bellamy over for a second, before he says, “From the very first moment they laid eyes on each other, Bellamy and la lune were in love. It was obvious to everyone but them, but eventually, for all of our sake, they figured it out. We all thought the puppy dog eyes and longing looks would end once they got together, but to our dismay, they didn't. Bellamy and la lune look at each other with as much love as they did on that first day, if not more. Some of us had to watch Bellamy pine away for her while trapped on a tin can in space, while others had to watch la lune pine away for him while in the last green valley on Earth.”

He motions to your surroundings, lush, green, overgrown, and muses, “Or so we thought. Still it didn't take long for them to figure it out again, though life continued to get in the way. But finally, after a few years and a few different planets, we have arrived at this moment. Bellamy and la lune, it’s time to exchange your vows. Bellamy, you go first.”

Bellamy holds both of your hands in his own as he takes a deep breath and begins, “Natshana. We have been through so much together. We have experienced so much loss, so many hardships, but through it all, I felt at peace, because I knew I had you. I vow to always love you, to support you through everything, and to remain by your side through it all. I vow to protect you and keep you safe, and to remind you daily of how much I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, proving to you that I deserve the love you freely give me. I want to be your best friend and confidant, your soulmate. I vow to be a good husband, a good father, and a better man. I vow to love you in this lifetime and in the next.”

You’re crying by the end, tears streaming down your face, making your vision blurry, and you smile at him as he finishes his speech. You swear you even hear Murphy sniffle a little before he says, “La lune, your vows.”

You wipe away your tears to get a better look at Bellamy before taking his hands again with a smile. “Bellamy, I have spent my entire life feeling like something was missing. Despite living a life full of love on the Ark, surrounded by people that cared about me, I knew that something was missing from my life. I would have never guessed that what was missing was you. From the moment you saved me from Shumway, I knew our fates were intertwined. I didn't understand just how much back then, but I understand now. You are a part of me, as if the gods created our souls from the same mixture of stardust. I can't imagine my life without you, and I am so honored and grateful to be standing up here today, joining my life with yours. I vow to love you unconditionally, until we take our last breaths. I vow to comfort you when things are hard, to protect you from the harsh world, and to make you smile as much as I can. I vow to be a good wife, and mother, and woman, and I vow to do everything I can to make you happy, because I love you more than the stars.”

Bellamy starts to cry as you say your vows to him, and by the end not only are you both crying, but almost everyone around you is crying too. Murphy gathers himself and mutters, “The rings.”

Clarke and Octavia each pass him a ring, the first of which he offers to Bellamy. Bellamy takes your left hand, poising the ring at the end of your ring finger as Murphy says, “La lune, do you accept this ring as a symbol of Bellamy’s love for you?”

“Yes.”

Bellamy slides the ring on your finger, the gold band matching the band of your engagement ring. Except this band has a small moon on it, seeming impossibly small, and as you admire it, Bellamy whispers, “Bardo tech is good for something.”

You smile at him as Murphy passes your father’s ring to you, and you take Bellamy’s left hand, holding the ring at the end of his ring finger the same way he did with you. Murphy repeats, “Bellamy, do you accept this ring as a symbol of la lune’s love for you?”

Bellamy smiles at you and whispers, “I do.”

You slide the ring onto his finger, whispering, “It was my father’s.”

Bellamy looks up at you in surprise, tears in his eyes again as he whispers back, nearly speechless, “Natshana.”

You smile at him, and beside you, Murphy proudly announces, “I now pronounce you married! You may now kiss the bride!”

Bellamy grins at you before sweeping you into his arms, turning and dipping you before kissing you, pouring all the love he has for you into it. You both pull away with matching grins, the crowd cheering around you as Murphy yells, “Let’s party!”

And party you do.

All of you move to a different clearing, set up with food and fire and more music, and you spend hours dancing, partying, and laughing with your friends, your family, and your husband. Sometime later, long after midnight, you and Bellamy are slow dancing, looking at each other with adoration when he mutters, “I have one more surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

You give him a look and say, “You know I do.”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he says, and he leads you away from the party to a chorus of goodnights, hoops, and hollers following you. As the sounds of the party grow fainter, the sounds of the woods grow louder, and you can hear leaves crunching beneath your boots as Bellamy leads you through the woods. You walk for a few minutes before he pulls you to a stop, putting his hands over your eyes to cover them even further. His mouth is right beside your ear when he whispers, “Ready?” and it sends a chill down your spine.

Your voice is a breathy whisper when you answer, “Ready.”

“Okay, open.'' Bellamy drops his hands from your eyes, and they open to see a house standing in front of you, the soft light of a fire coming from inside. It has a porch and a big yard, and as you look at it in confusion, Bellamy adds, “It’s no house in Shallow Valley, but…”

He trails off as realization dawns on you, and you turn to him with a look of excitement. “Wait, are you saying?”

“It’s ours.”

You laugh and pull him in for a kiss, pulling away again so you can ask, “Wait, how? There were two houses ahead of ours!”

“We’ll probably be babysitting for everyone for the rest of our lives, but they came by everyday to work on it.”

You smile at him, shaking your head with disbelief. “I don't deserve you, Bellamy Blake.”

“You deserve more than me, blainen natshana.”

“That’s not true.” He smiles at you a little before nodding towards the house. “Wanna go inside, Mrs. Blake?”

You grin at him, “I’d love to, Mr. Blake.”

He takes your hand and leads you inside, giving you a quick tour before leading you back to the bedroom. There, he stops at the door, motioning for you to go inside. You push the door open and walk into the room, looking around at the decor, Gabriel’s sheet music hanging on the wall, the large bed in the room, and...the skylight. You let out a little gasp as your gaze locks on the window situated in the ceiling, letting in the soft light of the moon. It shines down on the bed, giving you a perfect view of space from the place you’ll be sleeping. As you look up at the stars over your bedroom, you feel Bellamy slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders. You whisper, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.” You smile at the compliment, but your smile drops into a gasp when his lips move to your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin. His hands slide from your shoulders, down your arms, and then to your waist. You sink into him, enjoying the feel of his lips on your skin, as they move from your neck to your shoulder. One of his hands lifts, and you feel your zipper being tugged down your back slowly, his lips kissing down your spine as he exposes more skin. Your dress slides off your body, the silky material moving off you easily, landing around your feet. Bellamy drops down behind you, his hands roaming across your skin before reaching around and untying your shoes, one after the next, his lips pressing kisses to your legs.

He rises slowly, trailing a finger up your spine and sending a chill through you before his lips press to your neck again. He pulls away to spin you in his arms so you're facing him, and he eyes you up and down hungrily, his expression one of admiration. “More beautiful than the moon.”

You smile at him, before reaching out and crashing his lips to yours, the two of you kissing hungrily, Bellamy’s teasing leaving you eager with anticipation. He pulls you close to him, his suit rubbing against your bare skin, his arousal pressing against your body. You slide your hands up his chest and push his jacket down his shoulders, before moving your hands to his buttons. You break your kiss so you can press kisses to his skin, the same way he did to you, a new kiss with each new inch of exposed skin. When you reach the last button, you drop to your knees, leaving his shirt on as you do. You press one kiss to his waist before leaning down and ridding him of his own boots, before you return your focus to his waistband.

You undo his pants and slide them down his legs, letting them pool around his feet, and then you tug his underwear down, his dick springing free. You look up at him, and his eyes are locked on you, watching your every move as you take him into your mouth. His eyes flutter closed as you work him with your tongue, slowly at first, increasing your pace as you move. You can feel him start to reach his climax, his thighs clenching beneath your hands, but he stops you before he can finish, his voice breathy when he whispers, “Not yet.”

He pulls you to your feet and straight into a kiss, guiding you backwards towards the bed, stopping just at the edge to break your kiss. Bellamy shakes off his shirt, the last of his clothes, before nudging you to sit on the bed so he can help you out of your underwear. As soon as you're naked, he takes a moment to admire you again, and you do the same with him, your eyes scanning his body, before settling on a scar at his side. You reach out to run a finger over the scar, given to him by Kane while he was under the influence of Alie. Bellamy reaches out and tips your chin up until you’re locking eyes, and he smiles, “I love my crooked scar.”

“And I love you.”

He leans down and kisses you, the two of you moving backwards on the bed until your head is on the pillows. His mouth leaves yours to press kisses all over your body, worshipping you, and when he finally sinks into you later, you climax while looking at the stars.

7 months after Transcendence

You look down at the list of supplies in your hand, checking over it a second time before you jump to Bardo to grab all that you need. But as you’re reading through the list, you get an idea, and you lift your gaze to look at your twin, who’s sitting across from you at your kitchen table. “We should form a council.”

Clarke looks up at you, confused, her mind too focused on the list in her own hand. “What?”

“We should form a council, like we had on the Ark. Except this one will be between all of us that chose to leave Transcendence.”

Clarke considers your idea for a minute before nodding in agreement. “It would definitely make it easier to get supplies if we had an official person to go to each time.”

“Everyone can choose or elect a council member to represent them. One from Bardo, one from Sanctum, one from Wonkru, and one from Eligius. And then the council members can elect a chancellor to represent all of us.” Clarke nods in agreement. The ideas start coming to you quickly now, and you add, “We can set an age for Transcendence, for those who choose to go through with it. We’ve already got a few pregnant people within each group, so inevitably, somebody will want to transcend. Even though none of us liked the idea, we can make it a celebration or ceremony of some sort.”

“I like that. And we can jump to other planets for trades, make the routes and access to each other easier. With Bardo being at its closest point in its orbit, it’s easy to handle the time dilation now. But in the future it’s something we’ll need to consider. We can also set up schools or specialized learning within each group, so everyone has some way to contribute. Maybe check in with each other once a year at an official meeting just to make sure we’re all on the same page.” She looks back down to her notebook, flipping to a new page and already scribbling out a few notes. “I’ll get a few ideas written out, and we can pitch it to the others later.”

You smile at her, standing from your chair with your list. “And with that, I’m gonna go get our supplies.”

Clarke glances up at you as you step away, smiling. “Good idea, la lune.”

You smile back and counter, “Thank you.” And as you turn away from her, you drop your voice to a whisper, low enough that she can't hear you. “Intergalactic Chancellor.”

9 months after Transcendence

You walk up the path to the newest building in your fast growing town, Octavia and Gaia at your side.

The temple in front of you is built with stone, gifted to you from Bardo, the first of many gifts exchanged after the announcement of the Intergalactic Council. Everyone agreed and elected their council members. The Bardoans chose Lila, your former training partner, the Sanctumites chose Jae, Wonkru chose Indra, and the Eligius prisoners chose Nikki. With most of the people concentrated back on Earth, everyone agreed that Earth needed two delegates, to ensure everyone’s voice was heard, so they quickly chose Clarke as a fifth council member. And then a few minutes after that, they made her the Chancellor, just like you predicted. Everyone agreed that she could put the needs of the many over the few, that she could be more impartial than most, and that she was the best suited for the job. What surprised you though, was when they chose you to take over Clarke’s council seat, making you the new fifth member.

The last two months have been hectic as you all established the council and a new routine, and each Stone Room was cleaned up and made easier to access. On top of that, each of the three planets built a temple for Transcendence, where future ceremonies could be celebrated. Which is where you are right now, walking up to the new temple with Octavia and Gaia. Gaia leads you all inside, pointing out the various features of the temple. Stained glass windows, designed based off images from Earth before Praimfaya, but the religious images have been replaced with the origin of the Grounder religion and the story of Transcendence.

In the center of the temple, surrounded by a stone altar, are the remnants of Gaia’s transcendence. She was the only one on Earth when everyone transcended, and despite coming back down, her being of light remained. Now, it sits in the center of the temple, serving as a reminder of what will happen to those that choose to transcend. On Sanctum, they fixed up the palace and made it part temple, part Stone Room. And on Bardo, they put their temple in the oxygen farm, where most of the beings of light remain.

It’s weird to think that all of you are essentially establishing a new religion for people to follow. And though it’s likely that most of you that are alive right now won’t believe in the miracle of Transcendence, it’s possible that the descendants that come from your generation will believe. Religion on the Ark was always more of a melting pot of histories, most of the major religions combined into one universal religion. The Grounders believed in the Commanders and Becca Pramheda, and the Bardoans believed in the Shepherd and his teachings. On Sanctum, they believed in the divinity of the Primes.

And even if the new religion surrounding transcendence is not something you’ll ever believe in, religion has always been a big part of the human experience, and it only seems fitting that all of you create something for future generations to believe in. Plus, it does bring a smile to your face to know that you’ll always be part of the history of transcendence. Without you, the human race was condemned to extinction, until you urged them to reconsider. With Bellamy and Octavia’s help and everyone else’s compliance, you were able to convince the alien species to give humans another chance. It wasn't just because of you, but you are a part of the legend, a legend that will be passed down to generations to come.

Your story will live on, even when you’re not there to tell it.

11 months after Transcendence

You sit in your large bed, waiting for your husband to join you, both of you winding down for the night and preparing for sleep.

When he finally steps into your bedroom, you give him a serious look and muse, “I think it’s time.”

Bellamy gives you a shocked look, “You think so?”

“I do.” You hold up The Iliad, bookmarked a few pages from the end, you and Bellamy both procrastinating the inevitable: finishing the book. But now, after working your way through the book slowly, over the course of a few years, you know it’s time for the two of you to finish it.

Bellamy strips down to his underwear and climbs into the bed beside you, taking the book from your outstretched hand. He settles back into the pillows, opening his arms so that you can cuddle up next to him, tucked into his arms. You turn your gaze to the night sky above you, visible though the window in your room, and listen as Bellamy reads you the story of Achilles’ wrath. The moon rises slowly as he reads to you, bringing more light into the room as the time passes, and it’s right overhead when he finishes the last lines with a solemn voice. “When they had heaped up the barrow they went back again into the city, and being well assembled they held a high feast in the house of Priam, their king. Thus, then, did they celebrate the funeral of Hector, tamer of horses.”

Bellamy closes the book with a snap, setting it aside as you roll over to face him, resting across his chest as you look at him in confusion. “Wait, that’s it?”

“That’s it. Was that not enough for you, la lune?”

You glare at the laughter in his tone, and he attempts to hide the smile on his face as you answer, “What about the Trojan Horse? And the end of the war?”

Bellamy shrugs, “The Iliad was always about Achilles’ rage and the consequences of it. I guess Homer didn't think the rest of it was important.”

“Bummer.”

Bellamy laughs at the genuine disappointment in your voice, readjusting so he can place a kiss on your forehead. “If you want, I can get Niylah to keep an eye out for more historical books. She’s pretty good at finding them.”

“That would be great.”

He smiles at you, “Good. Now go to sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

He turns and blows out the candles beside your bed before the two of you adjust and get comfortable, falling asleep in each other’s arms. The last thing you think before sleep overtakes you, is that this sure beats sleeping in a tree.

1 year after Transcendence

You stand in the kitchen directing Clarke, Madi, Bellamy, and Octavia on different tasks. “Madi, you and Clarke work on the vegetables.”

“Bellamy, you cut up the beef, and Octavia you’ll cut up the pork.” You slide your cutting board towards you, chicken laid out on top of it. “I’ll take care of the chicken.”

Everyone takes their directions, asking you for approval every few minutes, making sure everything seems right as you rely on your memory for how to make Sancocho Trifásico. You carve the chicken into bite size pieces, using your Grounder knife to do it. You haven't used the knife to take a human life in over a year. Little do you know, you’ll never use the knife to take another human life again. The Grounder knife eventually becomes a knife, the way it should, and Wanlida becomes a distant memory. She’s only ever mentioned in stories now, memories, the nickname never again used. You’re thankful for that.

And as you sit preparing dinner with some of your favorite people, it’s easy to forget all the messed up things you’ve done. It’s easy to forget that you’ve killed people, hurt people, fought in more battles and wars than one person ever should. You’ve lied and kept secrets, betrayed people. You’ve done a lot of bad in life. But here, among your family, those closest to you, none of that matters, because they’re messed up too. All of you have done terrible things, usually to save the ones you love, and you’ve all been forgiven for that. You’ve all forgiven each other for the betrayals and secrets and fights. And what was once two sets of killer siblings, is now just one big family. Happy, at peace, able to rest for the first time in your lives.

You look around the table, not seeing Wanheda, Heda, Blodreina, Wanlida, or the man that slaughtered a Grounder Army. Instead, you see your twin, your niece, your sister, and your husband, all of you laughing as you exchange stories, preparing dinner and living a life drastically different from the one you used to live.

A while later, after the Sancocho Trifásico has had time to cook and the flavors have had time to intertwine, the five of you sit down around the table, bowls in hand. Before you start to eat, you lift your cup and announce. “To those we have lost, and those that aren’t here with us today. To Gabriel.”

Everyone repeats, “To Gabriel,” toasting the man that taught you the recipe you’re all about to dig into. Once you finish your toast, everyone takes their first bite of the meal, a collective moan of delight rippling through your group. There’s a chorus of compliments around the table, everyone praising each other’s contributions, before Madi looks around at all of you and says, “We should make this a monthly thing. Once a month, no matter how busy we are, we all meet up for dinner.”

Everyone nods in agreement, and Octavia adds, “And we can invite the others: Raven, Echo, Hope, Murphy, Emori, Jackson, Miller, Gaia, Indra, Niylah, and Levitt.”

“We can switch houses so the burden never falls on just one person to host. And maybe we can all bring dishes to eat.” They all nod at your suggestion, and you say, “All those in favor, raise your hand.”

Five hands go up around the table, everyone united on Madi’s idea. You nod once, announcing, “Well, that's that. Let the new family dinner tradition begin.”

1 year, 3 months after Transcendence

You drag the cart full of fruit behind you, straight into the green glow of the Anomaly, stepping into the palace of Sanctum.

Normally, you would just drop the fruit off in the palace and head back to Earth, but you have a stack of Intergalactic Council papers to sort through and sign off on, and you’re eager to procrastinate the task. So instead, you bring the cart out of the palace and down to the tavern, stepping inside behind a group of patrons. Jae looks your way as you walk towards the bar, and he smiles and calls out your name. You wave and point to the cart behind you. “I come bearing gifts!”

“We’ve been eagerly awaiting the next shipment from your garden! The last batch went pretty fast.”

You smile at him, proud that everyone seems to enjoy the food from your garden. “I’m glad you liked it! I’ll try to double up on the next batch for you.”

Jae winks, “We’d really appreciate that.”

As you start to unload the fruit into the various baskets around the bar, he looks up from the glass he’s cleaning, a look of realization on his face. “Oh! The last time Niylah was here, she said you guys were looking for old books or anything about history. We found a few things in the library and when we were cleaning out the palace. We put them up in your old room.”

“Thanks, Jae.”

“No problem. I think there are some old magazines too. The news is outdated, but it might be good if you're using them to teach Earth history to the young ones.”

“That’ll be great, I’ll go check them out.” You finish unloading the fruit and leave your cart downstairs as you head towards the stairs. You take them two at a time, turning and heading towards your old room. You smile as you approach the closed door, remembering the last time you were here nearly a year ago, before your wedding. You step inside the old room, your eyes immediately falling on the stacks of books and magazines on the bed, and you can immediately tell that even with your cart, you won't be able to carry all of these back in one trip. You decide to sort through them now and grab the ones that you think Bellamy will like.

You find the Aeneid by Virgil, Metamorphoses by Ovid, The Divine Comedy by Dante, and Paradise Lost by Milton, among others. You gather the books and start to stand, intending to take them and leave, until one of the magazines on the top of the pile catches your eye. It’s a Time Magazine, and normally you wouldn't have paid it any mind, but the front is a picture of a ship overflowing with people, hundreds if not thousands of them. The title reads: “The Battle of San Francisco, humanitarian disaster.” Beneath it, in a smaller print, is a subheading: “Charmaine Diyoza: terrorist or freedom fighter?”

You gasp a little, dropping the books in your hands and reaching out for the magazine, flipping it open to the table of contents. You scroll your finger down the page, reading each blurb until you find the one you're interested in about Diyoza, page 52. You frantically flip the pages, finally landing on a full page picture of Diyoza. You gasp a little when you see it. She looks only a few years older than Hope, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She’s covered in dirt and blood, and her clothes look like a torn military uniform. There is no scar on her neck, her own SEAL team yet to come after her, and her mouth is open in a yell. You can tell from the ferocity of her expression that she’s giving orders, directing the refugees of San Francisco onto an aircraft carrier as others in the background shove the helicopters overboard.

Honestly, she looks beautiful, and terrifying, and commanding, and all you can think is that Hope has to have this. She lost her mom in such a tragic way, and you know she still blames herself for it. Echo says that some days she doesn't even leave her bed, she just locks herself inside her room and refuses to come out for anyone. But you think that maybe having a small piece of her mother might help her.

You sift through the rest of the magazines, finding a few more that offer pictures and stories about Diyoza, and before you know it, you have two armfuls of books and magazines to bring back to Earth with you. You manage to grab them all and carry them back down the stairs, setting them into your cart as Jae looks on with a smile. “Looks like a successful trip!”

You smile at him, truly unaware of just how much he’s helped you. “Thank you again, Jae. You can expect double the fruit when I’m here next!”

“We look forward to it!”

You wave your goodbyes to him and to Blythe Ann across the room, before wheeling your cart back to the castle and through the Anomaly to Earth. You stop by your own house since it’s on the way to Hope and Echo’s, and you drop the books and cart off before grabbing the magazines and continuing on your journey. The walk isn't far, and you mostly get to stay on the wooded path that connects nearly all of your houses. It’s a nice walk because the weather is mild, one of those early fall days where the wind is cool but the sun is warm.

You reach Hope and Echo’s in a matter of minutes, walking through their own personal garden before knocking on the door. You only have to wait a few seconds before the door is opened and Echo smiles at you, “La lune!”

She reaches out and the two of you exchange a hug before she steps aside and motions towards the house. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” You step into their living room, looking around for any sign of the younger Diyoza. “Where’s Hope?”

Echo’s expression drops, her eyes darting to the back of the house. “It’s one of those bad days. She locked me out earlier.”

“Oh.” You feel a pang of disappointment before you hold the magazines out to Echo. “I found these, I thought she might like them.”

Echo’s face lights up as she flips through the magazines, finding the pictures of Diyoza, and she looks up at you with a smile. “You should try to give these to her, she might let you in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just…” She trails off, stepping into the next room to grab an apple and a cup of water off the table. “Try to get her to eat something if she lets you in.”

“I will.”

She smiles and passes the water and apple to you, along with the magazines, and you take the path back to Hope’s room, comfortable with the layout of Echo and Hope’s shared house. You knock on the door a few times with no answer, calling out your name, hoping it’s enough to get the door open. When that doesn't work, you knock again. “Hope, I have something for you.”

You wait, met by silence, before adding, “It’s about your mom.”

You're met by more silence, and you glance down the hall, where Echo stands watching, both of you looking disappointed. But then you hear the lock on the door click, and a smile graces Echo’s face before she slips away, unseen. You turn back to the door and push your way inside, your eyes landing on Hope, already curled back up in her bed. The curtains are drawn and the room is dark, none of the warm afternoon sun reaching the room. You close the door behind you, giving your eyes a second to adjust to the darkness before you cross the room and set the apple and water on the table beside her bed.

Then, you move to the foot of her bed, sitting yourself down at the edge, keeping your voice soft when you talk to her. “I know what it’s like, you know. My dad got floated because of me. He made a deal to save my life, and I never got to thank him for it.”

You let out a shaky breath, surprised that grief still visits you, all these years later. “Anyways, I went to Sanctum today, and they had these.”

You flip the magazines open to the relevant pages, stacking them together before setting them beside you, right at her feet. Hope makes no move towards them, and she stays silent, the two of you sitting in her dark room without a word. You wait a few minutes before standing, guessing that she needs some time alone. “I’ll leave these with you. They’re yours, if you want them.”

As you start to step away, a hand reaches out and clamps down on your wrist, stopping you. You turn to look at Hope, her eyes locked on you, tears welling up in them. “Can you read them to me? The stories, I mean.”

You give her a small smile and nod your head. “Sure. You have to eat that apple though.”

Hope sits up, adjusting her position in the bed to make room for you to slide in beside her. She reaches out for the apple as you flip through the magazines, deciding to start with the Time Magazine article. You glance at Hope, and she takes a bite of the apple, bringing a smile to your face as you shift the magazine so she can see the pictures. And then, you begin to read, “Charmaine Diyoza, former NAVY Seal turned self proclaimed freedom fighter, is pictured here with the refugees of…”

1 year, 6 months after Transcendence

You sit in the chair in front of the mirror, checking over your appearance as Clarke carefully braids sections of your hair, tucking them out of the way for your date tonight. As she works, she muses, “Are you excited? I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

You smile, thinking of the night you have planned for you and Bellamy. A trip to Sanctum to visit the new dance night at Jae and Blythe Ann’s tavern, followed by a moonlight picnic, like the one you used to have back at Arkadia. “Yeah, I think it’s going to be great. I hope Bellamy is surprised.”

Clarke smiles at you in the mirror. “I know he will be.”

She tucks the last few braids into place and reaches for the hair clips you wore at your wedding, arranging them in your hair as an extra touch. As she works, she asks, “What do you think of Raven?”

Your brows pull together and you try to lock eyes with her in the mirror, and you open your mouth to ask what she means. But then you see the light tint of a blush in her cheeks, her eyes avoiding yours, her tone tentative, and you suddenly realize what she means. You look away from her, back at your reflection, as you muse, “She’s pretty. Smart too. And she’s saved our asses a few dozen times, so we maybe owe her some undying gratitude.”

Clarke lets out a soft laugh before placing in the last hair clip, her eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. “I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles, growing more confident with each passing second. “Yeah.”

You stand from your seat, turning to hug her, pulling away to smile at her and say, “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Thank you, la lune.” You have no idea what she’s thanking you for, but you know you have a reason to thank her, due to her weeks of support as you planned your first anniversary celebration with Bellamy, so you counter, “Thank you, my shining star.”

She smiles at you before grabbing your hand, tugging you towards the door. “Okay, time to go. You don't want to be late!”

You allow her to pull you out of the room and down the stairs to your waiting husband, eager to celebrate your first wedding anniversary.

2 years after Transcendence

You and Bellamy stalk through the woods, eyes scanning the brush around you.

He has a rifle slung over his shoulder, but he ignores it, favoring the axe in his hand to hunt with. You have your Grounder knife out, both of you tracking the boar that you can hear nearby. Somewhere up ahead, a twig breaks, and you and Bellamy turn to look at each other, eyes wide, and he nods towards it, taking the lead. You move behind him, scanning the woods around you for the wild animal, and as you do, you feel a wave of nausea pass through you. You shake your head, trying to will it away, hoping it’ll pass long enough for you to get through your hunt. But shaking your head only makes you feel worse, and suddenly feeling light headed, you pause, stilling your movements.

It only takes a moment for Bellamy to notice your absence, and he backtracks towards you, immediately reaching out and putting his hands on your cheeks, lifting your face to look at him. “Hey, what’s going on? Why’d you stop?”

He can tell something is wrong as soon as he looks at you, a light sweat across your face despite the cool temperature, and you don't have time to answer him before you push his hands away, quickly turning to vomit. Bellamy reaches out for you, holding your hair back and putting an arm around your waist to support you, and as soon as you finish puking, you sway in his arms. You feel a rush of dizziness, and Bellamy turns you towards him again, looking you over with concern. “La lune, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Must be a stomach bug or something. Clarke said something was going through the school last week.”

Bellamy leans down and scoops you up in his arms, and you let out a sound of protest. “Bellamy, I’m fine! I can walk.”

Bellamy shakes his head, already turning back towards the town. “I’m not taking any chances. The last stomach bug that went around took everyone out for nearly a week.”

You’re about to protest again, but Bellamy gives you one of those looks, and you know immediately that it’s a waste of time to argue with him when he’s being protective. He carries you all the way back to town, heading straight for the small clinic near the center, where Jackson works on a day to day basis. As soon as he door is open, Bellamy is yelling out, “Jackson! I need your help!”

Jackson comes running, and as soon as he catches sight of you, his expression morphs into one of deep concern. You wave him off immediately, trying to placate his worries. “I’m fine, Bellamy’s just being dramatic.”

But as soon as Bellamy puts your feet on the ground, your knees give out beneath you, and he has to quickly catch you before you hit the ground. Jackson’s concern returns, and he motions for Bellamy to follow him. “Bring her in here.”

Bellamy follows the doctor down the hall, sitting you down in a bed as Jackson turns to you. “What are your symptoms?”

“I’m feeling kind of weak and dizzy.”

Bellamy adds, “She threw up on the way here.”

Jackson hums, turning to reach for some equipment. “Could be dehydration. I wanna do some blood work on you, and if it’s dehydration, we can treat you and have you back home in a few hours.”

You nod, and Jackson readies everything to take your blood, the process going smoothly. He leaves the room with your samples, and you and Bellamy sit in there together, talking and distracting you from the worries that are threatening to take over your mind. You’re there for a few hours before Jackson comes back in, looking over his notes. “Okay, la lune, you’re definitely dehydrated, so we’re gonna get you an IV to bring those levels back up.”

You nod, about to thank him, when he flips another page, reading over a different result, and he looks up at you and Bellamy in surprise. Bellamy immediately gets worried, his voice cracking a little when he asks, “What?”

Jackson smiles, “It seems congratulations are in order. La lune, you’re pregnant.”

You let out a laugh of surprise, turning to look at Bellamy, whose mouth is dropped open in shock. As soon as you turn and lock eyes with him, you both start crying, and he dives at you, pulling you into a nearly bone crushing hug. He tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder, and you can hear him muttering through his tears, “Oh my god. We’re gonna be parents. I’m gonna be a dad.”

His voice cracks on the word, and you pull away, looking your husband in the face and giving him a watery smile. “You’re going to be the best dad.”

“You’re going to be the best mom.”

He pulls you in for another hug, both of you laughing with disbelief, tears still streaming down your faces. Your joy is overwhelming, though your worries are already beginning to creep in, despite just finding out the news. Because now you have to carry a baby. And raise it. And try not to fuck it up. And it’s overwhelming to think about, but Bellamy's presence is reassuring. Because you know that no matter what, he’ll be there. For you, the baby, your family. Bellamy will always be there.

Especially now, because you’re a mother.

And he’s a father.

And the Blake family is growing by one.

2 years, 6 months after Transcendence

Bellamy comes running into your bedroom, a bag in his hand. “I got them!”

You sit up in the bed and smile, and he collapses into the bed beside you, pulling open the bag to reveal a collection of fresh baked cookies, courtesy of Jae. You’re 6 months pregnant, and it’s the only thing that you, your body, and the baby are craving. And Bellamy, the angel that he is, is more than happy to make the trip to Sanctum to grab them for you. You’d go yourself, but Bellamy is very protective and insists on doing nearly everything for you. At first you tried to fight him on it, but eventually you gave in and allowed him to protect you in the way that he so desperately desires.

And now, the two of you lay in bed eating cookies, your shirt pulled up to reveal your round belly. Bellamy finishes his cookie and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach before he whispers, “Hey there, little guy. It’s your dad. I just wanted to tell you that me and your mom love you so much. In fact, we love you to the moon and back again, can you believe it?”

You smile as you watch him, Bellamy already the attentive father that he never had growing up. And he's not the only one that’s attentive and protective of you. All of your family has turned out to be the same way. Clarke, Raven, and Madi come over nearly everyday. Octavia and Levitt bring food by every few days, sometimes with Murphy and an again pregnant Emori, who offers you and Bellamy first time parenting tips. Echo and Hope keep an eye on your garden, and Jackson has even taken to making house calls. You think it’s because your pregnancy is reminding him more and more of your mom, and when she was pregnant with you and Clarke, so you don't argue. Instead, you sit back and accept the doting, aware that everyone means well, and is just eager to offer their love to you, Bellamy, and your growing son.

Bellamy rests his hands on your stomach, his face lighting up every time your little warrior kicks, which is starting to feel like every few minutes at this point. The two of you exchange a smile, and his hand drops to a scar on your side, the one from the assassin in Mount Weather. He traces another scar, stretched across the middle of your stomach, from the first time you met Lincoln. He traces a few more, stretched along your arms, legs, and shoulders, though he doesn't find them all. As he does, he looks up at you, his face reverent as he whispers, “It’s incredible, you know. I’ve seen your body change so much since we met, but never more than I have right now. I’ve seen you stabbed, shot, bloody, and bruised and you always came out the other side stronger. You’re so damn resilient, and now you’re carrying our child. I’m in awe of you.”

You melt, Bellamy always good at leaving you as a nearly incoherent puddle of emotions. You smile at him, motioning for him to come closer, “C’mere.”

He smiles and moves back up the bed towards you, dipping his head to kiss you until you're breathless. The two of you smile as he pulls away, both of you high off your happiness. You've definitely had your struggles in your pregnancy, but moments like this have made it worth it. And you just know that meeting your son will make it all worth it too.

Bellamy settles onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, offering you another cookie as the two of you stretch out beneath your skylight, searching the stars. He’s quiet for a minute, before he says, “I’ve been thinking about names.”

You glance up at him, expression curious. “Yeah?”

“I know we haven't found anything we really love yet, so I started thinking about the things we love the most: the stars and history. And then, I remembered the first constellation you ever told me about, Orion. I thought that might be a nice name.”

Your face lights up as soon as he says it, and you smile at him. “I think that’s a really good name.”

He smiles at you before continuing, “For history, there was a Roman emperor named Alexander.”

“Orion Alexander Blake.” Your smile grows, knowing immediately that it's perfect. “I love it.”

He looks down at you, a big smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You feel a kick in your stomach, strong enough that Bellamy can feel it too, and you both look down at your stomach with a smile. “I think Orion likes it too.”

Bellamy’s smile grows larger, and he shifts his gaze from your stomach to your eyes. “Orion Alexander it is.”

2 years, 9 months after Transcendence

You stand in the kitchen, peering into your cabinets for something to eat while Bellamy waits for you in the other room, studying a chess board.

He was adamant on getting up to get the snack for you, but you insisted on getting it yourself, not quite sure what you want. And as you stand there deciding, you feel a trickle of water run down your leg. Your stomach drops, already aware of what’s happening, but you look down anyways, confirming what you already guessed.

Your water just broke.

You keep your voice calm as you call out, “Bell!”

He immediately comes running, his face contorted with worry. “What’s wrong?”

He sees you standing in the kitchen, looking at him with wide eyes, and he immediately understands what’s going on. “I’ll get the bag and get the rover started. You go change.”

You hurry to your bedroom the best you can and change quickly, before heading out of the house and into the rover where Bellamy is waiting. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, and you know he’s just as nervous as you are, if not more. As he puts the vehicle into drive, you reach out and place a comforting hand on his thigh. “We’re gonna be okay.”

He puts his hand on top of yours, turning to glance at you quickly with a smile. “I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be comforting you right now.”

“I’m fine.”

But as soon as you say it, the contractions begin.

It takes your breath away, and Bellamy keeps looking at you with worry. “La lune, are you okay?”

You breathe through the pain, relieved when it stops, and you turn to give your husband your most reassuring smile. “I’m okay. The contractions are starting.”

The drive to the clinic isn’t long, but you’re thankful for the rover, gifted to you and Bellamy by the others just a few days prior. The two of you live further out than anyone else, and everyone was worried about how you’d get to the clinic once you went into labor. The distance is short enough that you could have walked, but no one seemed too keen on that idea, you included. Luckily, Miller found the rover a few weeks ago, in pretty bad shape, but with the help of some Bardo tech, they got it fixed up and gifted to you before the big day.

Bellamy pulls the rover up right outside of the clinic, quickly hurrying to the other side to help you out and into the building. The only person in the clinic right now is Niylah, who stands from the front desk as soon as she sees you. “I’ll call Jackson, pick any room!”

“Thank you, Niylah.”

Bellamy takes you to the first available room and helps you into the bed, before he works on calling Clarke and Octavia on the radioes you all set up between your houses. You try to focus on the sound of his voice as you feel another wave of contractions, and a few minutes later, Niylah comes into the room to get an IV started and let you know that Jackson is on the way. He arrives quickly, and so does Clarke, Raven, Madi, Octavia, and Levitt. Everyone crowds in your room and helps to distract you from the increasing amount of pain you’re feeling, until Jackson finally says that it’s time for you to push. He kicks everyone out, except for Niylah and Bellamy, and he turns to you with a smile. “Okay, we’re gonna push now, are you ready?”

You nod weakly, getting worried before you turn to Bellamy. He reaches out to take your hand, smiling softly at you as he whispers, “You’re the strongest person I know, la lune. You can do this.”

And then you push.

Before you know it, a sharp cry cuts through the room, and you sag with relief, well aware that your son has entered the world. Bellamy cuts the umbilical cord and Jackson and Niylah take your son away, cleaning him up and checking him over. Bellamy presses a flurry of kisses to your face, whispering between each one. “I’m so proud of you. You did so amazing, natshana. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You smile up at him, feeling the energy drain from your body as your adrenaline starts to fade, but in this moment, you are so unbelievably happy. Jackson brings your baby over to you and Bellamy, putting him into your waiting arms. You and Bellamy crouch together, looking down at your son and his tiny nose and tiny ears and tiny hands. You look over at your husband, both of you smiling, and you whisper, “Do you want to hold him?”

Bellamy nods, his smile growing even brighter, into one of those rare ones you treasure so much. It melts your heart as you pass Orion into his arms, Bellamy holding him so tenderly, so carefully. He smiles down at the bundle in his arms, tears springing to his eyes as he whispers, “Hey Orion, it’s dad. I’m so happy that you’re finally here. Me and your mom have been waiting so long to meet you. I love you to the moon and back again, and I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

You look at Bellamy and Orion, your heart so full of love. At this moment, you’re not sure your life could be any better than it is right now. You have no idea just how wrong you are.

3 years after Transcendence

Your dazzling little sun comes to see you nearly every day now.

Correction, she comes to see Orion nearly every day. She comes over in the late afternoon, after his nap and before his dinner, to visit and play with him. Sometimes she brings Clarke, sometimes she brings Luca, but mostly she comes alone. You and Bellamy welcome the visit, Madi’s babysitting giving the two of you a little break to rest or work on dinner.

Today, she comes alone, knocking on the door softly, but full of excitement. You pull the door open to her smiling face, and she pulls you in for a quick hug before barreling past you, into the living room where Orion and Bellamy now play. You close the door and quickly follow her, stepping into the living room to find your husband picking up Orion with a smile, both of them turning to greet Madi. Orion lets out an incoherent babble of happy sounds, and Bellamy nods and mutters, “Yeah, what he said.”

Madi looks between you and Bellamy, a big smile on her face. “I made Orion something.”

“Yeah?”

She reaches into her jacket, pulling out a thick bound book. You all step closer to her as she flips open the first page. “It’s his own sketchbook of stories. Some of them are yours and Clarke’s, some are mine, but some are from the others too. Eligius, Sanctum, Wonkru, Bardo. I interviewed everyone and drew what they described so that I could pass it onto Orion.”

She passes the sketchbook to you, and you flip through a few pages, Bellamy peering over your shoulder. You look up at your niece, equal parts touched and impressed. “Madi, these are incredible!”

“Thank you.”

Bellamy adds, “La lune’s right, these are amazing. Plus, Orion loves storytime.”

Madi looks at him, hopeful. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I read him something now?”

Bellamy nods, passing Orion into her outstretched arms. “Of course. Though, maybe hold off on the violent stories for now.”

She smiles, settling into one of the chairs with Orion in her arms, and you put the book in her lap as she looks up at you with thanks. “I’ve got a good story in mind.”

As you and Bellamy start to step out of the room and towards the kitchen to get a few things done, you hear Madi begin, “Orion, this is the story of your parents. They met on this spaceship in the sky, called the Ark, and…”

4 years, 2 months after Transcendence

You hear a knock on your bedroom door, and you tug your shirt down over your head before yelling, “Come in!”

The door swings open, and Octavia stands in the doorway, a big smile on her face. “Hi, sister.”

You smile back, “Hi, trouble.”

“Trouble?” She scrunches her nose and you let out a laugh before you explain, “Bellamy told me that you put all the kids’ hands in warm water at nap time. He said he was changing kids for an hour.”

She tries to hold back a laugh, but fails, “Oops.”

“Oops is right.”

You cross the room towards each other, and she pulls you in for a hug, leaning back after a moment to inspect your outfit. “That’s what you’re wearing to date night?”

You look down at your clothes, pants, a long sleeve shirt, and some boots, and look back up at Octavia, your voice a skeptical, “Yes?”

She shakes her head. “I know you’ve been married for a few years, but this is awful.”

You balk at her, but she waves off your indignation, turning to grab a bag that she dropped near the door. “Lucky for you, I already anticipated this being a problem, so I brought you this.”

She pulls a top out of the bag, red, velvety, and dressier than anything you’ve worn since having Orion. You look at it with skepticism, but Octavia holds up her hand. “Before you protest, at least try it on first.”

“Fine.”

You take the top from her hand and quickly change into it, turning to look in the mirror as you do. And even though you’re still wearing your usual pants and boots, you already look way better than you did a few moments before. Octavia steps up behind you, pulling your hair out of its ponytail, freeing your hair and looking at you in the mirror. You look at yourself, shocked, not used to seeing yourself dressed up these days. Octavia smiles at you in the mirror. “I mean, you looked great before, you always do, but now you look hot.”

You laugh turning to press an appreciative kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Octavia.”

“It’s always my pleasure.” She turns and motions to the door. “Now, go! Bellamy is waiting for you.”

You smile at her, both of you walking to the door together. “Thanks again for babysitting Orion.”

“There’s nothing I love more than visiting my nephew.”

You walk past the living room, where Levitt is sitting with your son, and the two of you exchange a greeting before you continue on to the door. You try to remind Octavia of Orion's bedtime schedule, but she shakes her head, pushing you out of your now open door. “There are no rules with Aunty O.”

You sigh and she smiles, hugging you one last time before closing the door in your face. You roll your eyes and turn, starting to walk down your porch, looking for your husband. But instead of finding Bellamy, you see a path of candles, leading you into the woods near your house, lighting the way through the rapidly darkening night. You follow the candles with a smile on your face, which only grows larger when you see what’s at the end of the path.

Bellamy, standing beside a blanket, a spread of food and candles beside him. He grins when he sees you, eyes raking up and down your body with appreciation. “You look beautiful, Mrs. Blake, as always. More radiant than the moon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blake.”

You reach him, and he pulls you in for a kiss, slow and sweet, and when the two of you break apart, you’re both smiling. You turn to look at the blanket, taking in the bowls of fruit and cookies spread across it. “And what’s this?”

“A picnic, like we had in Arkadia. Back when life was all about spying, Grounders, and Pike.”

You turn back to him, “Do you miss it?”

He shakes his head, taking your hand and guiding you down onto the blanket. “Not at all. I’m glad it led us to this moment, this life, but I wouldn't trade any of this right now for anything.”

“Me either.”

The two of you sit talking and eating and laughing, enjoying your date night together, enjoying each other’s presence. And later, after you’ve eaten one too many cookies, and Bellamy’s had a little too much Jo Juice, he looks at you, taking your hand. “Tell me about the stars?”

Normally, it’s a request that comes when he’s upset or angry or looking for a distraction. But now it is one of curiosity, and love, your husband eager to just listen to the sound of your voice. So you smile at him, and answer, “Of course.”

You lift your gaze to the sky, searching for one you haven’t told yet, your eyes finally landing on one overhead. You point it out and begin, “That’s Perseus. I’m sure you know a little about him already.”

Bellamy nods, confirming he does, but he makes no move to stop you, wanting to hear the story from you anyways. You continue, “Perseus and his mother, Danae, were locked in a box by his grandfather and thrown into the sea to drown. But instead of sinking, the box floated, carrying Danae and baby Perseus to a different country. They were greeted by the king of the new land, Polydectes, who immediately fell in love with Danae. But she refused to marry him, claiming she wanted to focus on raising Perseus instead. When Perseus was a young man, Polydectes hatched up a plan that would get him out of his hair so he could marry Danae. He tricked Perseus into agreeing to the mission, which was to slay the gorgon Medusa and bring back her head as proof. Polydectes was sure that Perseus would be killed and he would be able to marry Danae with ease, because Medusa had hair made of snakes, which turned anyone that looked at her into stone.”

Bellamy smiles at you, and you smile back, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before you continue, “The next day, as Perseus began his mission, he sang songs to welcome the rising sun, which pleased the gods. Because of this, they decided to help him on his quest. The goddess Athena gave him a gold shield that he could look into, to avoid being turned to stone but still see what he was doing. Hermes gave him a pair of sandals that would help him move quickly, along with a new moon sword that was sharp enough to cut off Medusa’s head. Armed with these gifts, and a special sack to put Medusa’s head in, Perseus went to the cave of the gorgons and killed Medusa, putting her head into the bag and returning home. On his way home, he came across Andromeda, who was chained to a rock and being offered to a sea monster.”

Bellamy gasps a little, adding dramatic effect to your story, and you roll your eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed. “Luckily for Andromeda, Perseus used Medusa’s head to turn the monster to stone, saving her. She was so grateful she decided to marry him, and the pair continued back to Perseus’ home. They made it just in time to stop the wedding of Danae and Poydectes, which was being forced on Perseus’ mother. He used Medusa’s head to turn the king and his wedding guests to stone, saving his mother in the process. After that, it’s said that Perseus lived for a long time, happily married, and he eventually became king of Mycenae, which he founded. After he died, Zeus put him in the stars, alongside his wife Andromeda.”

Bellamy smiles, squeezing your hand a little. “I hope I get to be by your side in the stars.”

“Me too.” You're quiet for a minute, thinking before you muse, “I guess in a way, you are like Perseus. You’ve definitely slayed your fair share of gorgons and monsters, and you saved me.”

“Does that make me a king?”

You laugh, “Maybe not officially, but you’ll always be a king to me.”

Bellamy smiles at you, tugging you down into a kiss. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

8 years after Transcendence

You peer up from your papers and to the late afternoon sun, enjoying the feel of it on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve had quiet for a while, as Orion has just reached an age where he’s old enough to go to the school in town during the day. Before that, he stayed at home with you, making it pretty difficult for you to get any real work done while he was awake and playing. But you’re glad you got the time with him, your favorite little carbon copy of Bellamy. He looks just like him, dark, curly hair, a face full of freckles, a bright smile. But he acts just like you, and you can see so much of your personality in him already.

You shake your head, trying to clear the distraction from your brain, giving yourself a wave of nausea instead. You have just enough time to push your papers out of the way before you turn and puke. Your brows pull together, wondering what that could be about, until you remember your pregnancy with Orion.

And how you found out.

You gather your things and quickly stuff them inside your pack, glad that you’re already in town and not far from Jackson’s clinic. He’s in the lobby, talking to one of the nurses in training when you walk in. He looks up at you with a smile, his gaze questioning. “La lune, what brings you here?”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Jackson’s eyes go wide and he motions for you to follow him. “Let’s go find out for sure.”

You follow him back into one of the rooms and he draws some blood, returning not long later to inform you that you are indeed pregnant. You let out a surprised little laugh, and Jackson asks, “We can do an ultrasound right now, if you want. Or you can wait for Bellamy.”

You’re about to say you want to wait for Bellamy, but then you think it might be a nice surprise to have an ultrasound picture to show him when you announce the news. “Let’s do one now.”

“Great.”

He takes you into a separate room, pulling out a machine and moving it over your stomach, searching for the baby and its heartbeat. After a moment, he finds it, the heartbeat thudding rhythmically, bringing you a sense of peace. But as Jackson shifts, his eyes go wide, and he whispers, “Oh my god.”

The words send alarm bells off in your head, and you look at him with fear. “What? What is it?”

“You’re having twins.”

You look at him with shock. “What?”

He turns to you with a smile, pointing out the two little blobs on the screen. “It looks like you’re having twins!”

You laugh with disbelief, tears pricking your eyes. “Oh my god. Bellamy’s gonna flip.”

Jackson prints a picture of the ultrasound for you, both of your little babies visible, so you can bring it home to Bellamy. He sends you on your way with a few vitamins and a big piece of news. You practically run the whole way home, excited that Bellamy is already there when you arrive. You come into the house in a flurry of excitement, unable to contain it, and Bellamy looks at you with amusement. “What?”

You can see Orion playing nearby, clearly distracted, so you turn to your husband and say, “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He gives you a weird look, but he complies anyways, holding out his hands for you. You place the ultrasound picture onto his palms, and say, “Open.”

He opens his eyes, and looks down at the picture in surprise, his face instantly lighting up and he turns to you. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod, your face split into a grin, and you motion to the picture. “Look closer.”

Bellamy looks down at the picture again, his eyes finding the two arrows that point to each baby. His mouth drops open in shock, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Are you...is this…”

You finish for him, “Twins!”

“Oh my god.” You laugh at the fact that you, Jackson, and Bellamy all had the same reaction, and Bellamy laughs too, happy. He reaches out and scoops you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. From across the room, your son sees you, and he pulls himself to his feet, proclaiming, “I want a kiss too!”

You and Bellamy pull away, smiling at each other before he leans down and picks up Orion, lifting him in his arms. Both of you press a kiss to his cheeks, and he laughs, delighted, before you pull away and say, “Hey buddy, we have some news…”

15 years after Transcendence

You finish up with the paperwork in front of you, looking up to glance at the clock.

“Is it 3 already?”

Madi looks up in surprise, glancing at the clock too. “I guess so.”

You stand from your seat, stretching before you reach out for your bag and start to pack your things inside. “I’ve gotta go. The twins requested that I walk home with them today so they can show me their favorite tree to play in.”

Madi smiles, shaking her head a little. “They’re so cute.” She stands and starts to pack her own bag, glancing at you in between. “I’ll go with you. Luca has to work late tonight, and I promised I’d pick up Abigail from daycare.”

“Perfect.”

As the two of you grab your bags and head towards the door, Clarke comes tearing inside, looking between you both. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, we have to go get the kids.”

Clarke smiles at the mention of her nieces, nephew, and adopted granddaughter. “I want to come. The council can wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You all laugh as Clarke runs to grab her things, glad that your twin is deciding to join you and Madi today. She works so hard all of the time, and she takes her job as Intergalactic Chancellor very seriously. Sometimes Raven comes to eat dinner with you and Bellamy, because Clarke is working late and she doesn't want to be alone. You’re always happy to welcome her, the woman becoming so much like a sister to you over this last decade.

As you, Clarke, and Madi make the walk down to the school, you can't help but think about everything that’s happened just with the three of you. Clarke and Raven are now married, and have been for a few years. Madi married Luca a couple of years ago and they have a child together, a three year old girl named Abigail, named after your mother. You and Bellamy haven't had any more kids after the twins, Selene Ara and Helen Carina, each named after a woman from a Greek myth and a constellation. They’re now 7 and still very identical, looking just like you and Clarke did as kids. They have Bellamy’s soft heart and kind spirit, and you love them more with each passing day.

Orion is now 12, the same age Madi was when she became Commander, a burden that you can't believe you allowed your niece to take on. Because now, every time you look down at Orion, you can't imagine putting something like that on him. And Clarke’s reaction to your betrayal makes much more sense to you now. In the moment, you were so focused on saving her, that you allowed Madi to take on more than she should have. Though everything has long since been forgiven, it’s something you think about often.

Still, walking between Madi and Clarke, you’re in awe of the women they’ve both become. They inspire you every day to be a better wife, mother, and woman, and you’re so grateful to have them in your life.

It’s not long before the three of you arrive at the school, the door and windows to the building all thrown open to allow the influx of cool afternoon air inside. The three of you stop just outside the door to the building, watching as Bellamy sits surrounded by all of the kids inside. Your kids, Miller and Jackson’s, Murphy and Emori, Hope and Jordan’s daughter, Echo’s son, all of them spread out around Bellamy. Technically, the school day is over at this point, but every day after school they gather around Bellamy and he tells them all a story from your collective history. The kids love it, all of them proclaiming it their favorite class of the day, and it’s easily won Bellamy the title of ‘favorite history teacher ever’, something he proudly reminds you of on a weekly basis.

But you’re happy that he’s so happy, so at peace. He hasn't picked up a gun in years, not even to hunt, and he hasn't fought anyone in twice as long. And he's more than happy to teach history to the kids every day, and share stories of your history, before coming home to a house full of laughter and love. As he finishes his story about the 100’s first day on the ground (the kids favorite), his eyes lift to you, sensing your presence. He smiles at you and wraps up the story, looking over all of the kids. “That’s it for today!”

They all groan, wanting another story, and Bellamy smiles as he shakes his head. “Maybe, if all of you are really good this week, I’ll tell you two stories on Friday.”

They all clap with excitement before breaking away and grabbing their bags, turning and running to the door, where the rest of their parents, your friends, stand waiting. The twins come running at you as soon as they see you, and you pick one up in each arm for a quick hug. “Mommy, you came!”

You smiled down at Selene, “Of course, I came! I can't wait to see your favorite tree.”

Bellamy walks over then, baby Abigail in his arms, fast asleep. He passes her to Madi, who takes her with a smile of thanks, before he turns to greet you with a kiss. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hi handsome.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to Clarke and Madi’s cheek, greeting them both. Orion is the last to join your group, giving you a hug as he reaches you. “Hi mom.”

“Hi baby.” You hug him back, glad he’s still at that age where he wants to hug his mom, and then all of you turn and head out the door. Bellamy locks up the school behind him, before he takes each of the twin’s hands in his own. Orion grabs Clarke’s hand, and you smile at them as they walk slightly ahead of you, talking all things medical. You turn and look at your husband, walking with your daughters, and your smile grows, reminded of how grateful you are to have this family and live this life.

50 years after Transcendence

You and Clarke step out onto her porch, cups of tea in hand. You both walk over to the chairs she has waiting, sliding into one of the seats, situated one beside the other. You’re silent, your relationship long past the point where you have to fill the silence, more than content to sit side by side, saying nothing. You’re both well into your 70’s by now, Clarke’s blonde hair faded to a pale gray, yours doing the same. Her hands and face are wrinkled, but her smile is just as bright and her mind is just as sharp as it was 50 years ago.

And as you take a sip of your tea, she hums, “I’m going to resign as Chancellor next week.”

You turn to her with a look of surprise, “Really?”

You had retired a few years ago, along with Bellamy, but Clarke hadn’t. You were convinced she’d work up until the day she died. “Yeah, I just don't have as much patience for it these days. I’ve been doing it nearly 50 years at this point, and I’m ready to step back, pass the torch on to someone else.”

You nod, take another sip of your tea, and muse, “I think that'll be good for you. Spend the rest of your days with Raven and the kids and grandkids.”

She nods, and your mention of the kids reminds you of the small gift tucked into your pocket. “Oh, I have something for you.”

You pull it out and pass it to her, and she sets her tea aside to unwrap it, revealing a charm, a silver star with a gem in the middle. Clarke smiles at it, admiring it. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s from the girls. They each made one.” You pull your moon necklace from beneath your shirt, a few different charms hanging on it at this point, thanks to the many gifts you’ve received over the years. Clarke’s bracelet looks the same, now something more akin to a charm bracelet, her wrist twinkling every time she moves it. She secures the new charm to the bracelet, looking down at it with a smile. “It’s come a long way from original gifts dad gave us all those years ago.”

“Definitely.” You brush a finger over the original moon, whispering, “I wish they were here to see us. To see who we’ve become. And our families, god I wish they could meet the kids.”

“Me too. But they know, I believe that. And I know they’d be proud of you, la lune.”

You turn to her with a smile, “I know they’d be proud of you too, shining star.”

63 years after Transcendence

You step out of your house, welcomed by the sounds of joy and laughter.

Your eyes roam the yard, searching for your husband, but he surprises you by calling out from beside you. “I’m right here, my love.”

You turn to see his smiling face, patting the seat beside him in the rocking chair on your porch. You smile and move to sit next to him, the two of you softly swinging as you look out into the yard. Gathered there are your friends, kids, grandkids, and your first grandkid, a boy named Jake. As you look out at your large family, Bellamy grabs your hand and squeezes it gently. “This is what I always dreamed of. When I wrote you that note, back before we even knew about Praimfaya, this is what I wanted for us. A big family, full of kids and grandkids, all of them a product of our love. I wanted to live the rest of my life with you by my side.”

You turn to smile at your husband, pressing a kiss to his ageing face. “That’s all I ever wanted my love, and you made my dreams come true. I’ve gotten to live a full life with you, and I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything.”

Bellamy whispers, “Me either.”

The two of you turn back to look at the scene in front of you. Echo is out in the yard, braiding flowers into some of the girls’ hair, and Hope is helping her, reminding you of your days on Skyring. Gaia is sitting with Madi, the two women still close after all these years. Murphy and Emori are playing with the youngest grandkids, always so full of energy when it comes to the kids. Their own seven children gave them 15 grandchildren, and a handful of great grandchildren. Echo only ever had one son, with a man from Wonkru named Michael. Hope and Jordan have two kids, one son and one daughter, and Madi and Luca have three kids of their own. Octavia and Levitt, and Clarke and Raven all decided to remain childfree, choosing instead to be the best aunts and uncle a family could ever ask for. They’ve spoiled your kids more than even you have. Miller and Jackson have a few kids of their own, thanks to the tech on Bardo, and they just welcomed their first great grandchild around the same time you and Bellamy did.

Your own son brought home a man of his own a few years ago, one he met while studying in Bardo. They both became doctors and remain childfree, but they spoil their nieces and nephews from the children your twins had. Helen married one of Murphy and Emori’s sons, making you related to the cockroach, and they had five kids of their own, including a set of twins, identical boys. Selene married a woman from Sanctum, and they created their own family with Bardo tech, welcoming two kids together. One of Selene’s daughters gave birth to your first grandkid, Jake, who is asleep in his mother’s arms, sitting out in the open air.

And now, sitting on your porch, your hand held tight in Bellamy’s, you can't help but reflect on your life as a whole. You spent the first almost 18 years of your life thinking that you would never see the Ark beyond the walls of your room. You thought you’d live and die in the same room with your parents, and that you’d never make friends, never fall in love. Then Shumway came along. In the moment, you were sure that he ruined your life. But your dad made a deal to have himself floated, just to save you and give you a chance to live beyond the life you had dreamed. Living without your dad was difficult, but it gave you the chance to go to the ground, and it gave you the opportunity to meet Bellamy.

Your life changed after that.

Meeting your soulmate is one of those experiences that you can't describe to others. You can try, but they’ll only understand when they meet their own soulmate. Until then, they can try to understand your words and hope one day that they’ll get it. But if you had to try explaining the feeling, you’d say that it feels like falling. It’s a rush, and your stomach drops, but you know someone is there to catch you. Raven always says it’s like spacewalking. Tethered to a ship, the only thing between you and the endless universe is this small space suit. That space suit is love, protecting you from the dangers of space, while also allowing you to explore it.

But no matter how you describe it, it's magical.

It’s life changing, and even if you hate your soulmate at first, the way that you and Bellamy did, there will always be that inexplicable pull to each other. Half the time you followed him out into the woods, you never knew why. You just knew that you had too. But now, you get it. You know it’s because he is a part of you, part of your soul, and you can't resist the pull to him even if you wanted to. And from that pull came love. A kiss in the middle of a battlefield, a proposal while chained up in a cave, a wedding after saving the human race (again). Three kids, seven grandkids, and one great grandkid, all a product of your love.

You’re not sure you would have believed that this would be your future if someone had told you back then. Back when life was all about Grounders, fighting, Mountain Men, and war, you would have never thought that peace was possible. But it is, and you and everyone you know and love has spent the last 63 years proving that it is. The alien species that created the stones leaves you alone, allowing the remaining survivors of the human race to just be. They seem to have no interest in any of you beyond the few that choose to transcend when they turn 25.

You are suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by someone yelling, “Nana luney!”

You smile, turning your focus to the voice, your eyes landing on one of Miller’s grandkids, David. He smiles at you, waving you over, “Come tell us a star story!”

You glance at Bellamy and he grins at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Duty calls.”

You stand and start to walk over to the gathering group, only to be stopped by Selene, who calls from inside the house, “Time to eat!”

The kids all groan, and you smile at them. “I’ll tell you one after dinner, I promise.”

They smile and all run into the house, grabbing their plates and returning outside. Orion brings a plate for you and Bellamy, helping you both down the stairs and into the grass with the others. You’re having one of your first nice days in weeks, and everyone agreed that they wanted to eat outside. Someone set up blankets and tables for those who need it, but you feel good enough to plop down on a pillow beside Bellamy, Clarke, and Raven.

Once everyone has gotten their plates and returned outside, you begin the dinner the same way you have every month for the last 63 years: with a toast. Bellamy lifts his cup, looking over the many faces gathered there. “To those we have lost, and those that aren’t here with us today.”

You know everyone is thinking of those that have passed in the last few years: Indra and Niylah, Jae and Blythe Ann, Jackson. Losses that affect each of you when they occur, every one of you so close after everything you’ve endured together. Still, all of you have promised to celebrate their lives and not mourn their deaths, so you lift your glasses and repeat, “To those we have lost, and those that aren’t here with us today.”

Everyone drinks, honoring those that are absent, hoping that they’re somewhere in the stars watching, smiling at the tradition that has never died.

67 years after Transcendence

The gods look down at the devoted couple, held tight in each other’s arms, both of them taking their last breaths together. And as the couple passes on, the gods exchange a look, tears present in some of their eyes. “It was a love story for the ages.”

“A privileged, invisible twin falling for the demoted guard that only ever tried to do right by his little sister. A love that was felt across the Universe as we all watched on, rooting for them. A love that crossed the stars and left their mark on multiple planets, and a moon. I think there’s only one place for them.”

The god gives the other a surprised look. “Do you think so?”

“They belong in the stars. They always have.”

“Then it must be so. Let it be known that we have an 89th constellation being created: The Lovers.”

Year round The Lovers shine down on Earth, reminding all those they left behind of the power of their love. They live on as legends, their story told for generations to come. As a kid, you never thought you’d be up among the stars, your life told as a story, the same way your father told you the stories of countless others. But because of Bellamy and your unforgettable love for each other, you become part of history forever.

And it all started over 200 years ago, on a dying spaceship floating over the Earth, when a cocky ex-guard came running down the abandoned halls of the Ark, finding you held tight in Shumway’s arms.

Thus beginning a love story that would span from this lifetime, and into the next.

Forever.

Fin.

One 68 page outline, 14 pages of written notes, 3 maps, and 2 calendars later, we did it!!! That’s it, my friends. That’s a wrap. It’s insane to think that I sat down in January of 2020 and decided to write a 7 season, 101 chapter rewrite. It’s insane to think that I actually did it. This journey has been so wonderful. I have learned so much, had so much fun, and truly grown from writing this monster of a series. But more than anything, I’m fucking grateful. I have met so many lovely people through this series, made so many incredible friends, read so many kind comments and messages. And I just gotta say: thank you. Thank you to those that have been there since I posted 1.01 all those months ago. Thank you to those of you that showed up later, throughout the seasons. Thank you to all of the binge readers, the weekly readers, and those of you that commented on every upload. Thank you to everyone who ever sent me a message or ask or commented. Thank you to the quiet readers too, the ones that have enjoyed sub rosa silently. Fanfiction is an escape for so many of us, and I'll never judge the way that you consume content. So even if we’ve never interacted or talked before, but you took the time to read this series, then thank you!!!

I have more projects planned and more series coming out, including a sub rosa au mini series, another Bellamy x reader series, and others! I’m also going to be posting in a few other fandoms as well, if you’re interested. If you like me or my writing, I invite you to stick around. If sub rosa is the only content of mine you think you’ll ever enjoy, just know that it’ll always be here for you.

Okay, that’s all for now. I love you all more than the stars, in this lifetime, and in the next!!!!

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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icerosecrystal · 4 years ago

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Daminette - The Goddess of Deception vs the Goddess of Creation Pt. 1

Marinette, goddess of deception, at least, that’s what everyone thought. In reality, she was the goddess of creation, but all the other gods and goddesses had handed over the title to another goddess. Lila was her name, and she was the actual goddess of deception, not that anyone except for Marinette knew. Even the queens and kings of Olympus Tikki, Plagg, Wayzz, etc. were starting to believe Lila. How did Lila manage to do this? Well, it all happened a year ago.

(A Year Ago)

Marinette was heading out to meet her friends. Once she arrived, she heard a loud, obnoxious voice claiming to be the Goddess of Creation. She looked around and saw a girl with sausage hair, talking to the rest of her friends. Supposedly, she found out she was the goddess a couple of months ago, and she and the god of the sun, Adrien were to be married in six years. While the dates were correct, her claims most certainly were not. Marinette then came up and questioned, “How could you possibly be the goddess of creation?”

Yeah, tactlessness was not her forte. Sausage hair burst into tears, exclaiming, “Of course you would question me! I expect nothing less from the goddess of deception.” Marinette couldn’t believe what she just heard, she tried to stammer out an answer, but after sausage hair’s response, everyone swiftly turned to glare at her.

“That’s so not cool, have you been lying to us the whole time, Marinette,” Alya yelled, “And just because you are the goddess of deception, that doesn’t mean you have to have it out for poor Lila.” Oh, so Lila was her name, it should be Liar, not Lila. Everyone continued shouting similar things to Marinette, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lila looking at her smugly.

Lila then loudly laughed and said, “Well, I should tell more about what it’s like being the goddess of creation, ” and she then dragged everyone along, leaving Marinette shaking with blinding rage. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked around to see Adrien looking at her. He had a disappointed look in his eyes.

“Marinette, why would you do that? If you leave Lila alone, she will get some more friends and will eventually admit that she isn’t the goddess of creation. Just play along.” It made Marinette even angrier was he implying that she should leave her future in the hands of a LIAR!

Marinette gave him a cold glare, “ I don’t care what you think, Mr. Agreste. You think Lila’s well being is more important over my own. She is stealing my title and future, and it will end up harming everyone, including me.” She saw him opening his mouth to most likely retort, but before he could, she turned on her heal and said, “Have a good rest of your day Mr. Agreste.” After seeing Adrien’s true colors, Marinette swore that if she ever got out of this mess and be identified as the true goddess of creation, she would do everything in her power so that she wouldn’t marry Adrien. For he is a fool, the god of the sun is.

~Present~

Marinette sighed, reminiscing in the consequences that day. Who knew that her friends had so little faith in her?! The only good thing that came out of the whole ordeal was that she ended up dodging a bullet in having to marry Adrien. But, she realized that if she does come out as the true goddess of creation, she would have to marry him. Fortunately, it would be a bit harder for her to do because Adrien had kissed Lila, which resulted in the breaking of the bond between Marinette and Adrien. It came with a price of immense pain, but the bond, still broken.

Either way, she would end up losing something if she left or stayed, and did she want to out her true identity to a group of people who believed a stranger over her? No, she didn’t. So, she made the hard decision to disappear, well the semi-hard decision. She would miss her parents, the god of baked goods and family, and the goddess of the harvest. She would miss Luka, the god of music, Juleka the goddess of insecurities, Kagami the goddess of war, and surprisingly Chloe, the goddess of subjection, whom she got closer to over the year of isolation that Marinette faced from her old friends. Nonetheless, she would be sad about leaving them, but she needed this. She got in contact with her Grandma, goddess of traveling, and she then left for the mortal world, saying goodbye to Olympus, if only for a couple of years.

(Time Skip of 4 years)

It has been four years since Marinette left Olympus, and she was so happy. She was able to explore so many different places in the mortal world with her grandma. But, unfortunately, her grandma was needed back in Olympus a year ago, so she had been traveling by herself ever since. She was currently in Los Angeles, California. It was crowded with many mortals and was very noisy, but it was incredibly beautiful and a new experience for her. She was walking around the city when she saw a doorway. She looked around and saw that none of the mortals could see it, meaning it belonged to Olympus. She looked back at it and saw a dark figure leaning against the alleyway leading to the doorway. When he saw her, he pushed off the wall and walked to her. He stepped in front of her and smirked, “Little goddess, what are you doing all alone? And why are you looking at one of the gateways to the Underworld?”

Wait, Los Angeles was one of the gateways to the Underworld?! (Yes, I did get this idea from Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief) But, if that’s the gateway to the Underworld, then it meant that this figure in front of her was Damian, the god of the Underworld! “Yes, I am,” Oh, crap, she said that out loud. “Little Goddess, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here and not on Olympus?”

It took a minute for the question to register into her brain before she promptly explained how Lila claimed the title of the goddess of creation, how she was the real goddess of creation. How she got completely isolated because Lila said that she was the goddess of deception. Marinette ranted about how her life had been five years ago, and how Marinette had had enough, deciding to leave Olympus for the mortal world. The whole time, she could see Damian’s face growing darker, and he looked like he would try as hard as he could to commit a murderer to a goddess, which confused her. Why did he care she just met him? By the end of her tirade, Marinette was panting for air, before she realized that he might no believe her like her old friends. So she timidly asked, “Do you believe me?”

Damian was snapped out of his murderer planning and quickly reassured her, “Of course, I believe you! I can feel the aura of creation surrounding you while you can most likely feel the aura of destruction and death around me.” She understood what he meant about the auras. She was also relieved that she had finally found someone who believed her.

Damian watched her closely before asking her a question that changed everything, “Would you like to go to the Underworld with me?” Marinette looked startled for a second before carefully thinking about her answer. It would be a great experience staying in the Underworld. And Damian had been so kind to her so far, on top of all that he believed her. No one believed her, especially not a stranger. She looked him straight in the eye before giving him her answer, “Yes.”

Damian leads her through the doorway, and after a series of confusing twists and turns, they finally reached the Underworld. Most would find it dark and spooky, but for Marinette, she was in awe of how all the shadows mixed to make a type of beauty that was found only in a place like the Underworld. Damian was watching her closely and smiled softly at the look of sheer awe displayed on her face.

Before he could say anything, a loud voice yelled from somewhere, “Well, if it isn’t Demon spawn, and look, he brought a goddess!” They turned around and, Marinette saw a god, as she assumed, with black hair with a shock of white along with blue-green eyes. His sentence was followed by a crash and dogs barking, and finally, three more gods barreled in from a doorway. Two of them squealed in delight, while the other one yelled, “Is that a real, goddess?” (I did just casually quote Frozen in the middle of my one-shot)

From there, it was chaos, all the boys were asking questions, trying to know her, but all of the questions were flying overhead, none of them understandable. Having enough, Damian whistled, halting everything to a stop. “Tt, enough you useless, morons! What’s going to happen now is that you are going to shut the hell up, let me explain how I met her, and then you will ask Father and Pennyworth to come here so that I may introduce each of you to her. UNDERSTAND!” They all muttered agreements and then waited for Damian to explain how they met. Damian then went on to explain how they met and exactly what Marinette told him about her past. By the end, all the boys looked like they wanted to tease him or get more info on Marinette. They decided to choose the former.

“Oooh, the demon’s in love. The brat found a girl on the street,” the boy that was in the room from when they first arrived exclaimed.

“Tt Todd, go get Father and Pennyworth so I can introduce you,” Damian yelled harshly. The other boy raised his hands as if to surrender and ran out of the room. After some awkward silence, he came back with two gods trailing after him.

“Damian, what is this,” the younger of the men asked.

“Father, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she is the goddess of creation, but the goddess of deception claimed her title, and everyone thinks that Marinette is the goddess of deception,” he went on to explain everything he already explained to the other gods. Once he finished explaining, he introduced everyone. “Marinette, I would like to introduce you to my Father, Bruce Wayne. These are my adopted brothers, Jason Todd, Tim or Timothy Drake, Dick or Richard Grayson. My best friend Jon or Jonathan Kent, and my butler Alfred Pennyworth. Father is the god of darkness and adoption, Todd the god of weapons and witchcraft, Grayson the god of death, Drake the god of judgment, Alfred the god of emotions, and finally, Kent, the god of happiness. If you couldn’t tell, he’s visiting.”

Marinette smiled widely at all of them, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Ahhh, blinded, we’ve been by the pure sunshine that you are,” Jason yelled, covering his eyes. Marinette’s mood automatically soured, “Please, don’t compare me to the sun. You would be comparing me to the god of the sun who is an asshole and a coward.” They all raised an eyebrow

at her response but didn’t further question it.

“Go be idiots somewhere else, heathens,” Damian screamed, pulling out a katana with the intent to impale them. All of his brothers and his friend ran out of the room, screaming bloody murderer, while his Father and Alfred calmly walked out.

Damian turned back to Marinette, “Would you like to stay for a little bit?” Damian asked. “Would you like to stay forever?” someone shrieked along with a thump. (If you couldn’t already tell, I am obsessed with Disney movies. This was a Mulan reference.)

Marinette smiled gently and replied, “I think I would like that.” Loud whoops, were heard after her response, which caused Damian to groan in exasperation.

(Time Skip, it is about the time of the “Lila’s” and Adrien’s wedding)

Marinette has been staying in the Underworld with Damian and his family, and she has been enjoying it. They were all very kind and supportive of her. They helped her, and she found common interests with each of them. But, out of all of them, she connected with Damian the most. He was the one that brought her here, and he was the one who always had her interests in mind. He made sure to check in on her every day, making sure that she was satisfied with her day and didn’t want to leave the Underworld. Marinette wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she loved how much he doted on her. It was a nice change for her. But, she finally realized the actual reason when it smacked her in the face, literally.

She was walking down one of the long windy halls that she would most likely end up getting lost in, but her being the stubborn person that she was, refused to ask for help. She then smacked right into a shirtless Damian. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and looked at her, “Are you alright, Marinette?”

But she couldn’t answer. The only thing she was capable of doing at the moment was staring at Damian’s toned chest. It was smooth and had a beautiful shine to it underneath the lights. He had huge biceps, broad shoulders, and a very clear eight-pack. He had just finished exercising, so he was sweating, which made him look even hotter,“…Marinette, MARINETTE!”

“Huh,” she mumbled out. Damian gave her a curious look, “What were you looking at?”

She looked up at him, “You hot, I -I mean, you look nice, n-n-no, uhh your a chest look amazing, w-wait no, ” she then started mumbling to herself, so that Damian couldn’t understand her and hid her face in her hands.

He gently took her hands and rested them on his chest while putting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer, “So, you think I’m hot. Am I hot enough for you to do this?” He started leaning forward slowly so that she could pull away anytime. Yet, she didn’t. She instead tilted her head up and brought her lips closer to his, fluttering her eyes shut. Their lips met in a moment of passion. Her lips were warm and sweet, almost like strawberries, and they molded against his lips. Damian gripped the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, evolving it from chaste to intimate. It felt like a dream, her hands around his neck, his in her hair, and around her waist. Her finding the feeling of being loved. She pulled away and put her hands back on his chest. She looked into his amazing emerald eyes and his swollen lips while panting in sync with him. He pulled her close again and asked her after giving her a peck on the lips, “ Be my girlfriend?” “Yeah,” she replied, and they went back to kissing, this time making out. They heard the cries of joy at her response, it looks like they had some incompetent fools to murderer later, but for now, it was just them.

That had been a couple of months ago, and they were happy together. While things were going great in the Underworld, things were falling apart in Olympus and the mortal realm. Because Marinette, the real goddess of creation, was in the Underworld, plants stopped growing, and many other things that the goddess of creation controls, was, in the process, of destruction. In Olympus, the Kings and Queens were trying to figure out the cause of the lack of life in the mortal realm. And so they went to Lila. Lila claimed that someone was stealing her powers. The kings and queens were skeptical, but since everyone else believed her, they figured that it must be the truth. And so, everyone on Olympus was ordered to find the thief. And the wedding of creation and sun was to commence.

Back in the Underworld, Damian and Marinette were making plans to expose Lila, but one thing was still troubling Marinette, “Dami?”

“Yes, little goddess.”

“If I do go through with the plan, I would have to marry Adrien. I don’t want to marry him!”

Damian hummed thoughtfully, “That does seem like a problem. What do you suggest?”

She blushed underneath his loving gaze, “Would you be willing to marry me?” Damian looked stunned, opening and closing his mouth, looking like a fish. After several failed attempts to speak, he manages a nod with a hint of red splayed across his cheeks. Marinette squealed and tackled him to the ground.

Dick came inside, pretending that he wasn’t listening to their conversation the whole time, “Well, congratulations, make sure to use protection, we don’t need little demons running around the place.” Marinette blushed and swiftly tucked her face into the crook of Damian’s shoulder. If looks could kill, Dick would be dead three times over with the glare Damian was giving him at the moment. Dick seeing his reaction, quickly left the room in an attempt to avoid being stabbed by Damian.

Marinette cuddled into Damian. Damian looked at her tenderly and spoke, “When do you want the wedding to be? And before you answer, I want to tell you something. If we get married, we would be together legally, but you won’t be the Queen of the Underworld automatically. To do that, you need to eat these six pomegranate seeds, but don’t do it for me, I don’t want to ruin your life, okay?” She looked at him and nodded, “Good.”

They held the wedding the next day. It was a beautiful ceremony, but none of Damian’s family could believe it. Who would have thought that the goddess that he met in an alleyway in Los Angeles would be with him forever? None of them expected it. By the end, both Marinette and Damian were happy that they were together. But, they still had one more obstacle to face, the wedding of the goddess of creation and the god of the sun.

To be continued…

#mlb x dc #maribat #batman #miraculous ladybug #damianette #damian x marinette #marinette x damain #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #batfam #daminette #lila rossi #lila salt #alya salt #adrien salt #persephone x hades #alternate universe #hades and persephone au #everyone is oblivious as hell

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pagesoflauren · 5 years ago

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The Highest Bidder Ch. 1 (Ransom Drysdale x reader; sugar daddy!AU)

Summary: A graduate-level education is a costly pursuit. When you move out of state to study in Boston, expenses pile up, leading you to auction off what is apparently your most valuable asset: your virginity. It goes to the highest bidder…who happens to be Ransom Drysdale.

There are no major spoilers for Knives Out. Consider this as an alternate timeline. There will be references to the movie/its characters and family dynamics revealed in the movie.

Warnings: loss of virginity, explicit sexual content/smut, angst, sugar daddy/baby arrangement, dark elements, dubcon, cliffhangers, minor spoilers for Knives Out, unprotected sex, irresponsible driving (don’t drink and drive!), swearing, Ransom is an asshole (more to add and if you spot any that I’ve missed, please kindly let me know!)

A/N: Huge disclaimer...I really didn’t want to end this chapter the way I did, but it was getting a little too long...but there’s more coming! Don’t worry, please don’t send an angry mob after me 😱 Big love to @threeminutesoflife and @caffiend-queen for beta-ing this for me! ❤️ One last thing about the text messages: Italics are sent messages and bold italics are received messages :)

This chapter is written under the assumption that the reader drinks alcohol.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

With his bedroom illuminated by the flashing images of his television, Ransom lounged lazily in his bed. One hand was occupied with his phone as his thumb slowly scrolled over the screen, the other idly wrapped around his cock as he took in the images on the device.

Various girls, all a few years younger than him, staring with false wide-eyed innocence or sprawled out provocatively across recliners on sandy beaches or by turquoise-watered pools. Their names or aliases were listed under the respective photos, with a number in green text next to it.

Deciding there were too many options, Ransom scrolled back up, the hand on his cock pausing as he started setting filters through the search. He changed them to specific hair colors, skin tones and a more concentrated age range. The only filter he didn’t change was the prices--there was no limit there. The page refreshed and showed him more favorable faces.

His mind started to numb and the faces started looking too similar. As he was ready to pack it in for the night and tuck himself back into his boxers, a strange listing catches his attention.

He sees you, kneeling in the sand at an apparent topical destination in a barely-there bikini. Unlike the other girls, though, your face is candid, caught in a laugh, eyes crinkled and lips spread in joy. There’s no price. Just the letters “HB” in red text.

He clicks on your photo and the webpage changes to your profile. There’s a few more photos of you: one with a cat, more vacation photos. Your location is convenient: Boston. Not too far from where he is.

But all of that fails to answer the question at the forefront of Ransom’s mind: Why don’t you have a price next to your name?

He scrolls through a couple more meaningless pieces of information: a little blurb about who you are, your measurements, your race and your conditions.

One time only.

“What?” he wonders aloud, face scrunching in curiosity. Sugar babies don’t just have sex once and then walk away with a fortune. From what he’s heard, they bitch and moan but shut up when there’s a cock in their mouth (or pussy, for that matter). They need to be looked after either because they can’t afford it or can’t be bothered to do things on their own. Then, once he reaches the end of your profile, he understands.

Virginity Auction. Current Bid: $8,250.

Ransom smirks at the prospect. He wasn’t looking for a virgin, but he likes the idea of taking one now.

The number changes in real time, going up in five dollar increments before someone brings it up to $8,500. A pop-up window appears, warning him that if he’s interested, the auction ends at midnight. Ransom’s eyes flick to the top of his phone. It’s 11:57.

He thinks for a few ticks. If he pays you enough, he’ll have the convenience of entertaining himself between your legs and taking your virginity with no strings attached. Once that’s done, you’ll be out of his hair. He wouldn’t have to put you up, send you money or deal with your whining or complaining.

Sounds like a good deal.

Pressing his thumb into the blue button that says “Bid,” Ransom looks at the clock again. 11:58.

Initially, he types in $10,000. But with two minutes to go and your price still ticking up, he doesn’t want to chance getting outbid by someone at the last second. He has to blow the other bidders out of the water.

Sat up in your bed and wringing your hands nervously, you look at your cracked phone screen. Midnight has just passed and you’re waiting for a notification about the final bid in your auction. It started at $5,000 and in the week that the listing was posted, you had gotten notifications whenever it went to the next thousand.

This isn’t how you wanted to lose your virginity. Ideally, you would have genuinely made love to somebody, someone your parents would have approved of and who truly cared for you. Even more ideally, it would have been the man who eventually became your husband...though you wouldn’t have waited until marriage to lose your V-card. You were about to take the next step in life and--you had to face it--you weren’t getting younger.

What was the least ideal of it all was the fact that you were doing this out of pure desperation. Your graduate program was starting in a month and your savings were mostly gobbled up by application and testing fees. Living out of state didn’t help either; most of your money went to paying rent and commuting around the city. If someone paid you enough to tide your finances over, you could live off that money until the end of the semester, after adjusting to the program and your schedule, before taking on a job off campus.

Your phone buzzed with an email from the website and you tapped the banner. Your email app launched and opened directly to the message.

Your auction has ended.

Reading further, you can’t believe what you see.

Winning bid: $50,000 by Ransom Drysdale.

Fifty thousand dollars? Surely there must be a mistake. Why would someone pay ten times the starting bid?

And Drysdale...where had you seen that name?

Closing your eyes, you searched your recollection to place the name. It’s so familiar.

Deciding your memory is unreliable, you resolve to a Google search of your highest bidder’s last name.

The first result that pops up is a real estate company and a picture of famed author Harlan Thrombey, who apparently is the father of the woman who owns the business.

You feel faint...these names are not insignificant in Massachusetts, let alone the world. Harlan was a best-selling mystery writer--you had some of his books in your library back home.

Then concern floods your brain: if this Linda Drysdale is Harlan Thrombey’s daughter, that makes Thrombey her maiden name. She must’ve married a Drysdale.

Are you a pawn in some horrible cheating scandal? You must be, nobody has the name Ransom. It has to be an alias. Her husband must be looking for some young thing to get his rocks off.

Stress causes your scalp to prickle as your phone buzzes again with a text message from the semi-mysterious Ransom, checking if it’s you, that he has the right number.

Yes, you reply.

The three dotted message bubble pops up before turning into another message.

Good. I’ve made a reservation at The Boxer in the city for Saturday. I told them you’ll check in. I told them not to charge you anything, but if you need to pay any fees, I’ll send you the money back. I’ll be there after 9.

A chill runs down your spine at how direct he is. But, you suppose you can’t expect anything more from him.

Okay, you acknowledge.

More dots, then another message.

Dress appropriately.

Despite your lack of experience in the bedroom, you know for a fact that he’s not referring to office attire.

Settling back onto your pillow, you pull the covers over yourself and breathe slowly. You’ve got some preparation to do.

What do you bring with you when you’re planning to lose your virginity to a complete stranger in exchange for tuition money?

Fuck all if you have a clue.

You spent the days leading up to Saturday getting yourself ready. You bought a tight dress and pair of strappy heels from the sale racks. You cluelessly browsed for lingerie before an associate took pity on you (or just desperately wanted you out of her store, jury’s still out on that) and helped you select a lacy set complete with a garter and stockings. The associate absolutely gushed at how the color of the material complemented your skin tone, though you could care less. You forked over $120 for the damn thing and scampered out. Learning from your friends’ mistakes, you purchased a set of condoms using the self-checkout kiosk (and prayed you picked the right size). You weren’t instructed to buy condoms, but you figured you wouldn’t risk the chance of not having any. You endured a Brazilian wax, stifling profanities as the woman did her work. You also had trouble getting over your embarrassment; a stranger was going to see you bared all for him in a few days so if you can’t handle the wax lady seeing you, how could you handle “Ransom”?

Ransom.

Thinking about him did nothing for your nerves. You were certain you were going to lose your virginity to a man in his late 50s, who was married to Massachusetts’ biggest real estate mogul and the daughter of a renowned author.

Dear God, what if she found out? Her father wrote murder mysteries, she had plenty of ways to kill you and get away with it. What if you weren’t even meeting “Ransom” and you were meeting Linda and she was going to kill you at the hotel?

You shake your head and look back down at the contents of your duffel bag: toiletries, a change of clothes for tomorrow, the condoms and your phone charger. You had created a playlist on your phone...if you weren’t going to lose your virginity to someone you loved, then maybe you could fake it with music.

Who are you kidding? you chide yourself.

You sigh and resolve to getting ready. After eating dinner, you strip off your old band t-shirt and sweatpants, remove your simple cotton underwear and novelty pineapple-patterned socks before discarding them into your laundry hamper.

You shimmy into the lacy knickers, the material feeling quite uncomfortable against your skin. You clip the bra on next, followed by the garter around your waist. Then you finish off with the stockings over your legs, stopping at mid-thigh. After fastening the clips on the suspenders to the lace trim at the top of the hosiery, you sit at your vanity to apply some makeup and fix your hair.

“‘Dress appropriately’,” you mutter as you pull your dress from your tiny closet, “Hopefully this is appropriate enough.”

You maneuver yourself into your dress, struggling with the zipper for a moment then smoothing the material over yourself. You slide your feet into your heels and teeter a bit as you stand up.

You’re not planning to really impress too much, so you pull on a downy, puffy jacket to combat the sea breeze the city gets in the evenings.

Pulling the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, you look in the mirror one last time. You catch the reflection of the clock: it’s almost seven thirty. Taking into account how long it’ll take for your rideshare to arrive at your house and the traffic in the city on a Saturday night, you’ll arrive at the hotel a little after eight. You suppose now’s a good a time as any to leave.

Requesting a car for pickup, you realize there’s no going back.

Stepping into the hotel lobby, you know you don’t belong here.

With modern touches and old architectural charm, the men wearing luxury tailored suits and women wearing unaffordable dresses, you felt you stood out like a sore thumb. The most luxurious hotel you had stayed at was a Holiday Inn Express near Disneyland. And it barely had functioning lighting.

You timidly approach the front desk. Though the receptionist gives you a warm smile, you’re not comforted.

“Hi, I’m here to check in for Drysdale?”

The man’s eyebrows raise in what you assume is recognition.

Maybe this “Ransom” meets other escorts here often, then.

“While we would normally ask you to cover the fees upon checking in, Mr. Drysdale is a very good friend of the hotel so we’ve accommodated his request to make an exception,” the man informs you as he types away. He grabs a keycard and hands it to you.

“You’ll be in room 6-F. Have a pleasant stay.”

“Thank you,” you say meekly, taking the card before turning to take an elevator up.

Once on the sixth floor, you locate and unlock the room. The lights turn on automatically and you’re met with a cool gray toned room, which gives the room a darker atmosphere already.

The entrance is narrow and you assume the bathroom is on the other side of the wall on your right. With wobbly steps, you move forward and see the room open up.

The first thing you notice is the king-sized bed. Beyond it, the windows show illuminated facades of buildings outside. On the wall opposite the bed is a desk with a speaker and aux cord on top of the marble workspace and a fridge underneath. A TV is mounted on the wall above the desk. Next to it is an open wardrobe with a bathrobe hanging, cubbies and drawers, as well as a tray of refreshments.

You set your bag on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe and retrieve the remote to turn on the TV to create some white noise and maybe kill some time (and nerves) as you wait for nine o’clock to come around.

You wander into the bathroom and look yourself over in the mirror. You shake out your hands and pace, deciding to take off your heels for now as you pad around the room.

Ransom was bored of dinner and his host knew it. Everyone else kept a level of decorum, but all the guests knew this get together was extending much longer than necessary.

Checking his watch, it was quarter to nine. He threw back the rest of his drink before nodding to his friend and exchanging brief glances as he got up. Haphazard goodbyes were thrown his way as he pulled on his jacket and Ransom gave a nod of acknowledgement. He exits the restaurant, whistling to get the valet’s attention and handing the man his ticket as he pulls out his phone.

Where are you? he messages you.

At the hotel, sir. Room 6-F.

“‘Sir’,” he muses to himself, smirking at the title you’d given him. He didn’t even need to tell you to address him that way.

Have them bring up my usual from the bar.

Yes, sir.

Wondering how far he can take this, he asks you to send him a picture.

He’s surprised with how quickly you comply. You’re sat on top of the sheets at the edge of the bed, leaned forward so your elbow can rest on your knee and the camera can get a view of the plunging neckline of your dress. Your hair falls nicely over your face and your palm cradles your chin.

He can’t lie, he loves the way you look. You may as well be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Taking a few deep breaths, he wills himself to calm down; he can’t get hard yet.

He puts his phone into one pocket and reaches into the other as the valet returns with his car. When the valet approaches, Ransom hands over a few sad, crumpled bills as a tip before walking around to the driver’s side of his car and climbing in. Sending one last message to you, he pulls away from the curb and heads to the hotel.

I’m on my way. Make sure my drink is there before me.

You let out a spastic sound of nervousness and shook out your hands again before getting up to pace around the room again.

The drink was on the way, you placed the order as soon as he told you to. You didn’t want to give him any excuse to not pay or complain you were unsatisfactory. Though, not having any experience in bed might prove that mission to be difficult regardless of whether or not his drink came in time.

There’s a knock on the door and you jog over, pulling the door open to find a waiter holding a tray with a glass of what you assume is Scotch perched on top, covered with one of those signature little hats hotels always place on top of glasses.

“Thank you,” you smile, carefully receiving the glass from him. He bows silently and turns to leave.

You shut the door and place the glass on a coaster you find on the desk. You bother yourself with where the glass should rest (next to the speaker? on the far end, closest to the wardrobe?). Deciding it should be on the bedside table, you move the glass and coaster there then return to the desk to plug your phone in and play some music. You cringe at your choice to include Ed Sheeran in this playlist, but there’s no going back now.

Suddenly, you hear the clicking sound of the door unlocking and you scramble over to sit on the bed to put your heels on.

When you look up, you’re shocked to not find a man in his late 50s, nor the severe looking woman you’ve seen plastered on real estate posters.

You find a man who can’t be that much older than you, dark hair and blue eyes that stand out in the dim light of the entry hallway. His cheeks are pale and rosy, framed by a strong jawline. He’s tall, crown of his head so high towards the ceiling. His broad shoulders nearly touch either side of the walls as he approaches you.

He’s dressed rather casually, as if he was out to dinner with friends. The color palette of his outfit matches the hotel room: cool gray henley shirt, black blazer and jeans, finished off with a pair of brown boots and belt to match. If you’re honest, he looks like a model. He looks like he could have any woman he wanted.

Why the hell does he want a virgin?

When he comes to stand in the room, hands tucked into his pockets, he looks you up and down from where you’re seated. His lips pucker thoughtfully and you see how perfectly pink and full they are and you wonder what it would be like to kiss them...

Nope. We’re not doing that. It’s a one time thing and that’s that. You remind yourself.

His eyes catch the glass on the bedside table and he plucks it up, removing the paper covering before bringing it to his lips to drink.

When the glass is halfway to his mouth, he hooks a finger at you. “Stand up.”

As he drinks, you obey, rising from your place on the mattress and smoothing down your dress before folding your hands together.

He pauses his sipping, “Turn.”

Hands falling out of each other’s grip, they land at your sides rather limply and you begin turning, giving him a three-sixty view of your body. You feel heat creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks.

When you come back to face him, he throws his head back to finish his drink and places the glass back on the bedside table, but he misses the coaster. You cringe inwardly at the ring that will surely form on the surface later.

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his. You feel like a deer in headlights, unmoving as his gaze continues to flit over your figure. You wonder if he knows you’re holding your breath. You wonder if he can hear how quickly your heart is pounding.

When he goes to take off his jacket, things start feeling real. You don’t know how to describe the sound that leaves your throat, maybe something a frightened toad would make. Ransom halts and throws you a perplexed look and you cover your mouth in embarrassment.

He rolls his eyes. “You nervous?”

The words blend together, but his voice is so honeyed and silken and you can’t help but sigh inwardly at the sound of it.

Your jaw is slack and can’t make any sounds rise from your larynx. You snap your mouth shut and manage to nod stiffly.

Rolling his eyes again, he crosses the room to the mini fridge under the desk and pulls the door open. Crouching down, he shuffles through the various little bottles inside before turning and tossing one to you.

Your balance teeters as you fumble to catch it, the glass slipping out of your grip a few times before you fully grasp it.

The cap makes a cracking sound as it separates from the tamper evident band when you twist it open. You don’t bother to look at the label or pay any mind to the color of the liquid. Once the bottle’s open, you tilt your head back and drink, feeling the burn travel down your throat. When you stop, you notice you’ve had almost all of it.

Your eyes meet Ransom’s again and he raises his brows as if to ask, Better?

You finish the remaining contents of the bottle and feel the liquid settle in your belly as you twist the cap back on.

“Thank you,” you muster your voice to say.

His eyebrows raise again, showing his disinterest, and he holds his hand out. You’re certain you resemble a child when you use both hands to carefully place the bottle in his hands. There’s a flicker of confusion that crosses his face and you think you were meant to place your hand in his, but he turns and places the bottle on the desk.

There’s a sense of dread that settles in your stomach when you realize there really is no going back and no more stalling. You can’t read the expression on his face, but you’re certain he’s not pleased with how slowly this is going.

Summoning your courage, you reach your hands up behind you and begin to pull the zipper down...

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

Highest Bidder Taglist: @sapphirescrolls @just-another-wretched-egg @ladynightshade30 @angstsfordays @icanfeelastormbrewing @buckysteveloki-me @what-is-your-plan-today @iloganjade @twittytelly @xoxabs88xox @an-awkward-human-1 @fanfiction-trashpile @jtargaryen18 @donutloverxo @meaganottiz02 @princess-evans-addict @kianifan @asiaaisa77 @kelbabyblue @my-emotional-self @saiyanprincessswanie @random-things-i-love @captainchrisstan @daughterofthenight117 @buchanansebba @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @andiebell2023 @avengerraven1023 @dahkness @thatonefangirl111 @sllooney @sheerfreesia007 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @suzieqsez @farremoved @edge-ofparadise @bellaireland1981

A note about tags: If your name is crossed out, I couldn’t tag you for some reason. While comments asking for me to tag you are okay, it is much easier for me to keep track of my tag lists if you send an ask. That’s the sure fire way to guarantee I’ll tag you.

Additionally, if I forgot to tag you, please gently remind me via my ask box.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfic #knives out fic #The Highest Bidder #pagesoflauren

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bbdaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Six: Shape Up

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

“Alrighty, your food will be ready shorty,” the waitress spoke before leaving with the booklets and you all thanked her.

Semi and you still haven’t had a real conversation since sitting down at the table together, just mumbling some words to get through the night which Taka took notice of. “Are you two nervous or something? It’s alright, I’m not scary and you guys don’t look scary. Enjoy yourselves please, besides this is all our treat to you guys.” Feeling guilty for your behavior you immediately apologized to Taka and his band mates and thanked them again for the invitation. Semi did the same as well. You’re both just gonna have to fake it. “It’s okay! We’re going to be spending a lot of time together so I think it’d be cool if we could get to know each other, where are you from? I’m from Tokyo.”

“Miyagi,” you and Semi answered at the same time.

“Oh! Have you guys met before or anything?”

“We went to the same high school,” Semi answered causing you to internally face palm.

“That’s crazy! Were you two friends?”

“We were. Then we lost touch when we graduated. You know, busy busy,” you spoke up before Semi could. The last thing you want was someone you look up to questioning your past drama. Just seeing Semi was enough to remind you of how things went down all those years ago.

“Yeah, this is actually our first time seeing each other since then.”

“Wow, now I’m the odd man out,” Taka laughed to which you did too. While laughing you felt something poke your side.

Semi was sneakily trying to hand you his phone. Semi started branching off to a different conversation with Taka to distract him which you know he did so you could look at his phone without suspicion since everyone else was having their own conversations. You took a quick glance at the text message he typed to someone but didn’t send.

“Can we talk after this?”

You glided your eyes back onto the two singers, focusing more on the ash blonde. You two haven’t spoken in six years, what could he have to say, you asked yourself. Starting to think out every logical scenario you could, you thought that he just wanted to get the confrontation out of the way so you could both do this tour without any issues. Whatever happens, you know that even if you say no, you’d have to talk to him eventually. Might as well get it over with sooner than later so you typed your response.

“Yeah seriously thank you so much for listening to my band too. I’m so glad you like us. I’m actually a big fan of your music,” you spoke, jumping into the conversation so you could pass Semi his phone back with ease under the table.

“Thank you. I really liked your voices and wanted you guys to join me for the last song on our set list. It’s one of the new songs off the latest album,” Taka explained.

“Which song is it?” You asked excitedly.

“Take What You Want. We made the song with 5 Seconds of Summer but I think you guys would sound really good doing their parts.”

“I’m so down!”

“Sounds good to me,” Semi added, amused by your enthusiasm.

“Here’s your food,” the waitress spoke as she set down your plates with the help of another waiter. You all thanked them for the food before enjoying your meals.

The rest of the dinner was actually quite enjoyable. From what you could tell, Haruka and Jiro were mostly catching up with each other, which you understood since they were close their final year of high school. Tomo and Toru of One Ok Rock seemed to enjoy the stories Izumi was telling them while Ryota and Yui were having fun helping Ranmaru and Subaru practice their English. You loved talking with Taka. He was really easy to get along with and made it much easier to break the ice with Semi. You all finished your meals and left the restaurant together.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in forever!” Izumi announced when everybody was outside.

“Right? I cant way to try more food!” Jiro added on.

“What do you say guys?” You and Semi said simultaneously, crossing your arms and turning from each other.

“Thank you,” Your band members said all together.

“It’s nothing really,” Toru started.

“Yeah, we’re glad we got to meet like this,” Tomo added.

“We had a lot of fun tonight. Can’t wait to see what the rest of the tour will be like,” Ryota continued.

“You’re still very welcome. We’ll see you all tomorrow at the venue. Eita, Y/n, don’t forget, two in the afternoon for rehearsal. We’re heading back to our bus so good night,” Taka finished. The guys in One Ok Rock all waved you guys goodbye before heading off.

“They were really nice,” Subaru spoke.

“Yeah, this’ll be so exciting. It’s your guys first time in the US right?” Yui asked Won’t Regret.

“Yeah, thanks again for helping us practice,” Ranmaru said.

“No worries. You can ask us for help if needed.”

“Do you guys want us to walk you to your bus? It’s dark out,” Jiro offered, looking at Haruka for a response.

She smiled at him before responding, “Jiro you’re funny, our buses are in the same lot. We might as well just walk in a group.”

“Girls, you can head off. I’m gonna talk with Semi so I’ll catch up later.”

Yui was the first one to give you a worried look, wondering if you were fine being alone with him. Izumi and Haruka looked confused and curious. From what they knew, you haven’t been in contact with Semi since high school. Tendou was the one that mostly helped you through grieving the loss of your best friend but they could recognize the look of nostalgia in your eyes when you reminisced on old memories with him. They know you were strong, but it was a pain that never completely went away.

“How long?” Izumi asked.

“It might be a while,” Semi answered. “I’ll walk her back straight to your bus, don’t worry.”

The girls reluctantly let left you with Semi while the rest of boys accompanied them. As the groups walked away they would occasionally turn their heads back to the two of you out of curiosity to see what was going to happen. You were known for having a laid back attitude but stepping up and becoming assertive if need be in less than a second. Semi was typically pretty patient with you but it’s best to be careful since he has a shorter fuse.

“Hi,” Semi started awkwardly once his everyone was out of sight.

“Hey,” you responded in the same tone.

“Wanna go sit on that bench? Also, how’ve you been?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been good. You?”

He started walking across the street after looking both ways. “I’m doing great. How’s Tendou? Congrats on your marriage, by the way.”

“Marriage?” You asked confused.

“Didn’t you and Tendou get married and have a honeymoon in France?”

You let out a laugh before responding. “Tendou and I have been broken up for like three years now dude. I’ve never gone to France with Tendou, he went for his career and now lives there. I’ve only gone if it was for touring. Where’d you get that idea from?” You asked, gradually laughing harder resulting in Semi feeling relief. Half of it being that you might be single and the other part being that the laughing is a good sign that you’re willing to humor him.

“I saw he posted pictures of himself with the Eiffel Tower and stuff so I just assumed,” he chuckled along.

“Yeah but wouldn’t it make sense if I was in those pictures with him? I probably would’ve posted a picture of my ring too.”

“You know I follow you still?”

“Yeah, I pay attention to my notifications sometimes. I’ll be honest though, I did unfollow you.”

“Understandable,” Semi sighed.

You both went quiet after that, getting comfortable on the metal bench. Taking note of his expression, you took the lead for conversation. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh uh, I wanted to apologize,” he responded, grateful for the dim lighting so his blush wouldn’t be super noticeable.

“Well, I’m listening,” you said before crossing your arms in a playful manor.

“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m sorry for saying all that petty shit and hurting you. I’m sorry for all the pain I gave you. You know that saying that’s like ‘you don’t know what you have until you lose it?’ Well I lost you, and that was my biggest regret. All these years-“

“Semi, you can stop-“ you interrupted not expecting him to go on a full on rant for an apology. You were fine with a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Never would you have expected the ash blonde to list out every thing he did wrong. It was high school, that’s when mistakes are meant to be made because you learn from them. After walking the earth for twenty four years, you couldn’t give less of a shit about the things that happened. You grew up, you were over it, you have other things to focus on than hold onto a grudge because someone hurt you.

“Let me finish. Please. All these years I never tried to reach out to you because I think you made it clear that you didn’t want to speak to me and I respect that but oh my god I’m so proud of you. You’ve accomplished so much. You’ve traveled around the world, living your dream. I know we may have ended on bad terms but I have never, not once, ever wished for your life to take a turn for the worst. I’m genuinely so happy for you. I’m just so, so, sor- What? Why are you crying? I’m the one apologizing!” he asked, raising his hands to wipe your tears.

While listening to him all you could think about was how guilty you felt. “Because I’m sorry,” You answered, grabbing his wrists to pull them away from your face so you could wipe your own tears. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for not reaching out either. I’m sorry for almost starting a physical fight with you.” You were letting all your frustrations out at this point from all the emotions you had built up inside you. While you had to admit you were upset with him, you were the one that started it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said the night of the talent show. I should’ve told you the truth. I started this. I’m the one at fault.”

“Y/n...” Semi wrapped his arms around your back, using one hand to guide your face into his chest to help you calm down. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” His voice was soft, different compared to the way he was speaking before. His task at hand was just to focus on you. “I missed you,” he spoke.

“I hmff ugh oo,” you responded, head still buried in his chest.

“What?”

You pulled away from him and straightened your back. “I said I missed you too.” You took a couple seconds to look at him. He looked almost exactly the same as he did back then. The only differences you could tell were that his hair was longer and he looked more mature, maybe a little buffer. It was somewhat comforting. “I don’t get it. I told myself I should hate you after all that happened but I could never bring myself to accept it. It’s weird that we’re talking with little difficulty right now to each other.”

“Little difficulty? I’m not gonna lie, my heart is beating so fast right now. I was so nervous to even hand you my phone at the table,” Semi laughed, eyes not looking away from your form laughing into your hand. “I don’t get it either though. I honestly thought you were gonna hate me and yell at me like, do you really forgive me?”

“How do I say this?” You asked yourself before taking a deep breath to answer his question. “After graduating and experiencing the real world, I realized I don’t need to focus on high school bullshit. We were so young-“

“Now you’re making me feel old.”

“Shut up! We were just teens. Now we’re adults, ya know? With bills to pay and actual responsibility. I’d rather focus on me, myself now than what happened in high school. Am I gonna forget it? No, it helped build the person I am now. Can I forgive? I may be a petty bitch and say I don’t wanna but what’s that gonna do for me? Nothing so I might as well.” After giving your long explanation you looked at him again and took in his features, old happy memories flooding back to you.

“Do you think we start over?” Semi asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I’m Semi Eita. I play in a band and I’m a bit of an asshole sometimes. What’s your name?”

“I’m L/n Y/n and I also play in a band and can sometimes be a bitch,” you responded with a laugh.

“It’s nice to meet you. Can I walk you to where you need to be?” he asked, getting up and putting his hand out to help you up.

“Sure, that’d be really nice.”

After he helped you up, you started walking towards your bus with Semi walking right next to you. “Hey I’m actually playing a show tomorrow night, you should check us out!”

“No way, what time?” You asked deciding to play along.

“Like seven but you know how it goes, it’ll probably be more like seven-fifteen.”

“Ugh that’s annoying. Can you come to mine? I think I play at like eight.”

“Sure, dude. Anything for my bestie.”

“Aight I’m done. Bestie is too far, dude.”

“What! I can’t call you my bestie even though we just reunited six years after not seeing each other?”

“Correct. We can be ‘friends’,” you said, using your fingers to put air quotes, “but honestly I’m still on edge. Like after we went our separate ways it was hard for me to reconnect with people because it hurt when we ended things. I don’t wanna go through that again.”

Semi sighed, “I get that. Sorry again. I promise I won’t do that again.”

“It’s okay. And you better. Or else we’re really throwing hands,” you teased.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Don’t make me go all WWE on you!”

“Oh my god Semi, is that a threat?”

“Y/n!” Izumi yelled which made you focus on your tour bus. The girls had each opened a window to stick their head out of and wait for your arrival.

“Are you okay?” Haruka asked.

“Do you want back up?” Yui followed up.

“I’m joking, Yui,” Semi said, putting his hands up in defense.

“You better, or else I’m gonna be the one fighting for y/n,” Haruka warned with a glare.

“I guess this is goodnight, Semi. You don’t want to throw hands with Haruka, she’s pretty buff. Thanks again. See you around,” you said as you waved him goodbye and hopped on the bus.

“See ya,” Semi responded. He turned around and threw his head upwards to the night sky and let out a sigh before walking to his bus.

Yui with her head still out of the window took notice of how Semi relaxed after you left him. “Hey, girly,” she started, getting up from her spot after closing the window. “You okay? How’d it go?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It actually went surprisingly well.”

“That’s good news!” Izumi cheered.

“So are you friends again?” Haruka asked.

“Hmm, I guess so? We’re basically just starting over.”

“This tour is gonna be interesting,” Yui finished.

Getting back onto his bus, Semi immediately felt three pairs of eyes glued on him. Jiro set his Nintendo switch down while Subaru put his phone on his lap and Ranmaru stood up.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Ranmaru started with a straight face.

“Yeah!” Jiro added only to be shushed by Subaru.

“Well... good news?” Semi responded, not knowing what to make of the way his band mates were acting.

“Go on...” Subaru said, this time being shushed by Jiro.

“First, I’m gonna be a guest vocal for One Ok Rock with Y/n during their last song. Second, I told Y/n everything I needed to say. We’re friends again. We’re all good,” Semi said with a smile.

Ranmaru took a few steps closer to Semi before lovingly slapping his back. “Proud of you, bro.”

“Woooo! Go Eita!” Jiro jumped up to hype up his bandmate.

“Awesome!” Subaru finished. “Happy for you man. Now, I hate to be the mom here, but we should get to bed. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

“Good job guys!” Taka said, patting both of your backs.

“Thank you! Is there anything you want us to change?” You asked.

“Hmm, nah. I know most people say practice makes perfect but I think as the tour goes on we’ll improve the performance each night.”

“Sounds good,” Semi said.

“Can I give some feedback?” You asked. Taka and Semi both gave you a nod to go on. “You,” you pointed to Semi, “are being so stiff. It’s your first tour in the US. Loosen up! I’ll be blunt, if how to act now is how you’re gonna act during your set, which is the first one, you’re not gonna grab anyone’s attention. The majority of the crowd probably haven’t even heard of your band. You gotta draw them in.”

“I have to agree with her,” Taka joined in.

Semi grew wide eyed and turned a little red. You were about to speak up again but he beat you to it. “Sorry, I think I’m just nervous. This is all new to me,” he said, bringing a hand up to the back of his head.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to sound harsh! I just want you guys to grow. Being on tour right now is a big honor so I want you to get the most you can out of it. And-“

And you were rambling. Same old Y/n, Semi thought to himself, letting you ramble while he had a small smirk on his face, amused by the words you were speaking.

“Just perform how you would back then! I think if you brought that energy you’d really get a lot of people hooked!”

“Ya think so?”

“I know so. Can we try again but exaggerate our movements? This dude has to shape up.”

“I’ve heard so many stories about you mentoring the smaller bands, it’s nice to see that you live up to them,” Taka smiled.

“Thank you,” you responded with a blush. “Now Semi, follow our lead. And don’t let us down tonight.”

Taglist: @pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @syaziahvg @discountkiyoko

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x reader

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saigonharrington · 4 years ago

Text

nervous // g.w

Hi babes!

I’m finally posting the George fic that I was talking about and I am so excited for you to read it!

please, reblog if you like it, it helps me grow

disclaimer: my knowledge of werewolves is based only on a little internet research and the tv series named teen wolf, the episode named Anchors inspired me to write this

pairing: george weasley x werewolf!fem!reader

word count: 6k

Y/N - your name; L/N - last name; Y/F/N - your friend’s name

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, (kind of) panicking

summary: y/n is afraid of who she became, thinking that now she’s unlikable, but her new abilities prove her wrong, making her hear the boy’s talking and... the beating of his heart

“Hey, he’s staring again.” Your friend noticed the boy, who was standing across the hall with his brother and their friends.

Who was she talking about? George Weasley, of course, the person whose heart you could hear from miles away.

You met him a while ago, wandering through the halls at night, trying to sort some things out while he and his brother were bringing their another prank to life. Of all people attending Hogwarts, you bumped into them.

You never thought that someone, besides Prefects, would be seen in the corridors so you didn’t pay attention, focusing only on your thoughts. No wonder you got quite overwhelmed when you hit your head with something, and it definitely wasn’t a wall.

“Are you okay?” The redheaded boy asked you, worried about your well-being. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take my eyes off that Zonko’s new item. Are you sure you are fine? I can walk you to madam Pomfrey.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You said, looking at the moon. “I’m heading to my dormitory, don’t want to bother you and your brother.” You nodded at him, so he told you his name.

“I’m Fred. The more handsome one. Also, the funnier one, because I’ve just made out an amazing plan. Care to join us? I swear you will not regret it. ” He encouraged you, and you didn’t want to be rude, finally agreeing to go with them. A couple of minutes more outside the dorm can’t hurt you, right?

The thing is, you spent almost the whole night preparing pranks with them and idly talking, joking about Snape and Filch.

The problem is, you haven't talked with them since that accident. Sometimes you exchanged a few words in classes you had together but nothing more.

So then why did George have a crush on you?

You asked yourself that question many times since you first heard him confessing his feelings to Fred. Every time this boy got closer to you or touched you accidentally, his heart was beating so fast like a drum. Your heart has been just as fast as his, but he couldn’t know that. You didn’t even know if it was because you shared his feelings, or did just knowing what he feels towards you, made you that anxious.

“I know. I’m still not able to control these new super senses. I saw him a while ago. Not to mention that his heart makes my ears hurt. ” You admitted, holding your head because all these sounds were giving you a headache.

“Well, maybe if you’d finally talk to him, your senses wouldn’t be a big problem. Perhaps if you can’t manage to control them, you should ask someone who might help you. Go to professor Lupin.”

“But he doesn’t know that I’m a werewolf. I’m still not comfortable when someone mentions that. ” You said, scared of what you’d become. You knew that sooner or later you were supposed to reach for help, but you felt insecure and didn’t want to recall that night when you were bitten.

“He’s coming over here.” Your friend interrupted your thought, reminding you of George.

“No way, we have to run.” You started packing your bag, standing up from sitting on the bench.

“Too late.” She added, making you turn around.

“Hello girls, how’s your day?” He asked nicely, staring at you constantly.

“Bad.” You whispered.

“Getting better.” Your friend interrupted you, because she knew how much you wanted to walk away, and she couldn’t let you, knowing that you have to confront him anyway.

“Great, I wanted to ask you a question.” He pointed at you, smiling widely. “Would you go on a date with me?” He scratched his back, getting stressed. You heard his heart pounding, which made you even angrier. The sound was so loud that you weren’t able to hear anything other than that, feeling like you could pass out at any moment.

“She would love to.” Your friend took the lead, which made the boy wonder why you weren’t responding. “She’s just as stressed as you are. Sorry for speaking in her name, but she talked about you for so long. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, no worries. Meet me after the lessons on Friday. I’ll be waiting near to the great hall. ” He explained, addressing it to you, adding a short “see you later” after his brother called after him.

“You should thank me.” Your friend addressed you, asking you to sit down.

“Gosh, his heart was beating so fast. I couldn’t focus.” You told her, relaxing a bit. “And no, I will not thank you. Can’t you understand why I’m avoiding him? I thought I told you.”

“No, I can. I just think that you’re wrong. ” She told you, winking at you.

“Think about it. If he’ll find out who I am, he won’t talk to me again. I’d rather stare at him, being miles away and aware that he likes me too than admitting who I am and getting rejected, him not being able to look at me again.” You admitted, hearing your voice cracking slowly.

“You idiot. You really think that werewolves are some type of creature that cannot function normally? You’re here for centuries, managing everything somehow, I bet that there were werewolves married to Muggles, to wizards, and many more. Don’t think of yourself as a beast, some kind of unlovable creature. That’s not what you are. You’re perfectly normal. By the way, bold of you to assume that he’s the first one to judge and won’t accept you.” She gave you a speech, trying to cheer you up.

“That’s exactly what I think. Can you blame me? I’m still not used to this, I never really talked with any other werewolves.”

“Then stop! See, you’re also prejudging him. There’s only one way to find out what he’s thinking about you. You’ll tell him the truth. But for now, we have to find Lupin.”

—

You were not ready yesterday, so after your friend spotted Lupin, you decided to hide. You wanted to be prepared for every topic that he will discuss with you, deciding that you’ll ask him to stay for a little talk when the DADA lesson finishes.

“Can I speak with you for a moment, professor?” You asked, trying to sound quiet.

“Yes, you may. What’s the problem, miss L/N?”

“If you’re going to ask questions, then I might stay here for a little longer than ‘ a moment ’.” You joked, secretly being scared of admitting the truth.

“Anyway. As you may know, I am a werewolf. Before you ask, I prefer not to tell you how it happened. I’m still learning, and you’re the only one that came to mind. I thought that you might help me.”

“You should’ve come earlier. Weren’t you curious earlier about your abilities and how to control them?”

“I was. But I was also too afraid to say something. Werewolves aren’t considered as the nicest creatures, I wanted to avoid gossip. I still want to. ” You started a monologue, watching closely if Lupin is paying attention to you. “The main reason for me coming to have a little chat with you is not only to ask about my abilities. I’m invested in hearing. Because I cannot understand why some sounds are clearer and come to my mind often? What makes them so?”

“Do you have something specific in your mind?” He asked, being eager to help you.

“Someone’s heart beating. I mean, I hear a lot of sounds, but this one is haunting me, even if that person is completely in a different place. Am I losing my mind? Or did this happen to you as well?”

“This person is your anchor, then. The one who can calm you down, who can help you control all of your new skills. But it might change through the years, you don’t have one anchor for eternity. Everything is based on your feelings. ” Remus explained calmly.

“Who was your anchor? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not feeling comfortable with it, after all, I’m just another Hogwarts student. ” You asked out of curiosity, wishing that he will open up to you.

“It used to be someone who was my friend. I don’t think I have an anchor anymore. ” He answered, being rather peaceful and not bothered by it, however, you wanted to comfort him, asking for permission to hug him.

“You’ll find another anchor. You said that we can have it more than once, right? I bet that somewhere there is someone special, whose ability is to calm you down. ” You smiled shyly.

“Um, eh, we’re not here to be upset. Let’s focus on your issue.” He said, wanting to change the topic. “What you need to control your abilities is physical contact with that special someone. I can’t assure you that it will work after the first attempt, but it certainly might help.

“But that takes time, I think I was able to control most parts of it after months. Still, some things are not under my control. Anyway, don’t worry about that, everything has its flaws. If you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting soon, I don't want to be late. If you want, we can meet again after one of my lessons.” Lupin bid you goodbye, making you leave his classroom.

As you were left alone, you started thinking about the conversation that happened seconds ago. It did not make sense to you.

How could George be your anchor?

Sure, you had a crush on him for a while, but nothing ever happened between you two. That one night, which you spent preparing pranks with twins was fun, nothing else. You decided to not make any more friends, because you remembered how Y/F/N reacted when you said that you’re a werewolf. So you drifted away not only for your own good, but also for his.

Why him? Why isn’t it your friend, or even someone from your family who is your anchor? And how are you going to explain it to him? “Hey, I’m a werewolf, and you’re the only one that keeps me sane? You have to stay with me forever, otherwise I might go crazy?”

No way. You couldn’t see it.

At the same time, George was calmly waiting for you next to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He noticed that you stayed for a little talk with Remus, but he also was eager to talk to you.

Your date was supposed to happen tomorrow, and he wanted to make sure that you’re comfortable with him, and that you have something to talk about. He was afraid that maybe somehow tomorrow you guys will be stressed, so chatting the day before, no strings attached and just getting to know each other might lighten the mood.

“Hey.” He started the conversation without thinking about it. ‘Hey’? Couldn’t you think about anything better? Something more creative? Now she will think that you were stalking her, you dumbass, he thought, standing in front of you.

Never was he that close to you, or maybe just didn’t pay attention when you were around, but now he noticed the height difference between the both of you. He found it really hard not to kneel down, so he could see your eyes gleaming. Although he considered it cute and funny, he decided not to mock it. Well, not right now, since he had other reasons to talk to you and was so fixated about it.

“Hello George, what could have brought you here?” You asked, not bothering to look at him, because you would have to keep your head up.

“We just had the same lesson. I sit in front of you. ” He explained, thinking that you didn’t notice that detail. If the tall, ginger boy can be considered as a detail.

“Oh, I know. But the lesson ended 20 minutes ago. ” You said, wondering if he will say what he has in mind or will just play pretend.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Nothing deep, only to diffuse the tension before our meeting tomorrow. ” He scratched his head, walking slowly by your side.

“Meeting you say, and what’s that?” You teased him a little, finding it funny and adorable that he was afraid to use the word ‘date’.

“You know, when a group of people, two and above, meets somewhere. God, I was scared that I’m going to be the dumb one. Now I can relax. But I have to admit, I expected more from you. ” He joked, coping with his fear.

“Okay, so what’s the pre-meeting topic that made you come to me?”

“Actually…” He began, but you interfered.

“Shit. My friend is there.” You pointed at the end of the corridor, where she was talking with a Ravenclaw from your year. “We have to hide, I’ll explain.” You pushed him to the next door that appeared in front of you, finding yourself in Filch’s office. Great.

“Can you explain now? I thought that you like her. ” He asked out of curiosity.

“I do, but I don’t want her to interject in our conversation. Shh, I think someone’s coming. We should hide. ” You advised, being pretty sure that it’s Filch. Who else would come to his office? You made George hide behind the huge bookshelf, noticing how little space there was.

“You know, we could also say a spell to make us invisible.” He laughed at you, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Too late. Shut your mouth. ” You both tried to stay silent, hearing the sound of someone opening the door. George was almost sitting, because if he would stand normally, his head could be seen above the bookshelf.

His eyes were focused on you and your face in general, which made you hold your laughs way harder than you thought it would. If either of you made a sound, you’d end up in detention, and Filch would make sure that you get the worst punishment.

Fortunately, he only came to get one thing from his desk, so as soon as you heard the door shut, George suddenly moved, hitting his head on the shelf.

“Shh.” You said, listening closely to the steps that were getting closer.

“Ah, Mr. Norris, I forgot about you! But you didn’t have to hit the door so hard. I hope you forgive me. ” He said to the cat that stayed in his office, but this time he took it with him.

While they were going out of the office, you had to silence the boy, who was struggling because of pain. It was not your intention to show your werewolf abilities, however, he looked as it really hurt him, wanting to scream.

“Show me the back of your head.” You demanded, when the two of you went out of the hideaway. You slowly took his head with one hand, the other one intertwining with his fingers. He had no idea what you were doing. It was clever of you to take his hand, making it look like you were comforting him, while you took some of his pain away. Fortunately, you were wearing your long robes, so your veins were not visible. Otherwise, the boy would’ve seen how you were taking the sore, making the veins look blackish.

If it weren’t for your location and the cause of his headache, both of you would be on the way to the hospital wing. But how could you explain that George hit the bookshelf in Filch’s office? Well, you couldn’t. Good for you that the boy did not question your methods, he probably didn’t even notice the thing that you had done.

“That was weird. But also hilarious.” George admitted, laughing way too loud, when you carefully opened the door to check what’s going on outside the office. After you made sure that no one was staring, you took his hand again, making him go after you.

While wandering through corridors, you noticed it is almost empty.

“Why is no one here?” You asked, not expecting the ginger boy to answer.

“You know, I think everyone is having classes. We’re going to be late.”

“Oh no, we’re not going at all.” You replied quickly. “Not in the mood to get all the attention today, apparently the world is against me. We gotta be smarter, let’s play truant.” You tried to encourage George, but he already seemed to be in.

“That sounds great! Now I really do feel like we’re soulmates.”

“You doubted it? Wait, you never even mentioned that to me. ” You craved for an explanation, while George wasn’t so fond of telling you more.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a silly word. I intended to ask you something. Why didn’t you say anything when I asked for a date? Is it because you didn’t want to, or find me too intimidating?”

“Do you want the answer that will make you look bad, or do I have to take all the blame?”

“Depends which is the correct one.” He replied teasingly.

“I mean, I did think it was a little weird that you asked me, because after the pranks that night we talked only occasionally… how could I possibly be your soulmate? How could you grow to like me when you don’t know me at all? ” Yeah, you might regret that later, but you had to be honest.

“Merlin, I’m going to sound like a weirdo, but I do know you. At least I think so. You showed the real yourself that night, being careless and funny, besides in most of my classes I’m focusing on you, not the topic. I’m definitely sounding like a psycho, but you always sit in front of me or behind me, joking with your friend and I cannot help but hear more than a little and laugh quietly. I’ve liked you since that damn night and got to know you, in an unusual way, but still felt like we’re similar. That’s why I had to shoot my shot. Please don’t leave. ” He said, grabbing my hand, afraid of the vision that I might freak out.

“Can you shut up?” You replied in a harsh way, later realizing what you had done. “Shit, I didn’t mean… I just… you can speak. I’m just… Can you calm down? It sounds like your heart is going to run away from your body.”

“Am I sweating or what?” He asked, curious how did you notice that his heart was fluttering.

“Oh no I actually… I can hear your heart beating. Very, very fast. And that you’re swallowing now the gulp of saliva, because you’re scared. I even hear professor Flitwick explaining the cheering charm to the 3rd years. And that Hagrid is coming, I think he’ll appear in this corridor in two minutes.”

“Your eyes have just changed from their natural color. What is going on? Is something wrong? I am worried, I want to help you darling. ” He tried to comfort you, so you didn’t even notice the nickname. “Are you an Animagus? Metamorphmagus?”

“I’m a werewolf. I’m a werewolf, George. I’m so sorry, I know, I should’ve told you earlier. ” You admitted the truth, now being the one who’s afraid.

“No way! That’s so cool! I’m glad that I know! How many people know? Is this why you talked with Lupin? Can you show me your claws? And your transformation? ” The ginger got way too excited, so your job was to tone him down.

“Shh, remember that we’re in corridors, when we should be in classes. No one can know that we’re here. I’m so sorry for saying this, but I can’t show you. Not only is it irresponsible, but.. I can’t control anything since I was bitten. It might be because I’m that creature for the short term. I haven’t learned to control it yet, no one was kind enough to show me. Oh wait, the only werewolf that I know and trust is Remus and I told him the news just today.”

“But you told me that you hear my heart beating... It’s one of your abilities, right? ” He asked curiously.

“Yeah, it is. See, I either don’t know how to do things or they’re out of my control. I can smell like everything in this corridor right now, and trust me, when it’s mixed, it’s awful. I told you, I hear not only you, but even what’s happening in the charms classroom that is in front of us,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your wits,

“I also see the flying lessons from that window and I can recall every face of the students that are now attending that lesson. The problem is, that I don’t want to. This information is totally not needed by me, but I can’t control it.”

“I can’t decide yet what I want to smell or hear… it’s really hard. That’s why I couldn’t answer you when you asked me on a date. I heard your heart, and it caused my headache, that’s why my friend took the lead and talked with you that day.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Now that I know what was happening, I can relax. Should I say sorry for the sound of my heart? I didn’t want to…”

“It’s okay.” You interjected, comforting him, while it’s you who needed the comfort. “It’s not that bad, since you consider us soulmates, me, remembering how your heart beat sounds, it’s quite romantic.” You smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact.

“Can I?” George started, but took a break, wishing that you know what he has in his mind. You didn’t, so you stared at him with interest. “Can I listen to your heart? I wish I could remember yours too.”

You nodded at him, but the boy was too awkward to start this. You took his hand, leading it slowly to your chest, getting out of your comfort zone.

“You know, maybe you should rest your head on me. It won’t look as weird as you're almost touching my breasts. ” You started laughing, wondering if you’re taking this too far.

“Alright then.” He got a little more confident, doing as you told him so. “And I was hoping that we were going to have sex.”

“And you’re my soulmate?? Man, I would never do it in public. In front of the charms' classroom? What if Flitwick or students… I can’t even say it. You’re something else, Weasley.” You patted him on his head, which was still resting on your arm.

“I was going to tell you something really important. But since you got too cocky, you’re gonna have to wait ‘til our date. ” You started, feeling ready to explain to him about the anchor. You didn’t change your mind, because you will tell him anyway. Since the two of you got way too comfortable around each other, you decided to tease him a little.

“Oh please, don’t leave me hanging on. I can give you… something. ” He tried to convince you, taking some sweets from his pocket.

“No way, I know what you’re giving me. It’s Zonko’s hiccough sweet. Won’t happen. ” You replied, declining his offer. The bell ringing made you realize that the lesson has ended and the two of you should hide or at least make an excuse why didn’t you show up to your classes. Not only for the teachers, but for the friends' curiosity. What were you going to say? It seemed easier to just disappear than explain everything.

“I’m sorry, but Fred is watching us and I think we have something to talk about.” George got up, waving to his brother. “See you tomorrow then? Please, don’t be late” He added, lending you a hand in case you wanted to stand up, but you kindly declined it, deciding to sit for a little longer.

“Where were you? I was freaking out until I noticed that George was also absent. Good for you that it’s the transfiguration you had missed, not potions. Snape would kill you, or make you clean his class. Now, tell me what happened. In detail, please. ” She begged you, making you sigh at that statement, knowing that you two will probably miss another lesson, talking about your new friend, or, more like, soulmate?

—

The date was about to begin in 30 minutes, you were sitting calmly in your dorm, listening to your friend’s rambling.

“What do you mean by saying that you have ‘a lot of time’? Is thirty minutes a lot? You aren’t ready at all! At least change your shirt.”

“Well, I wanted to dress up. Then I started thinking if I should wear something casual, since it’s just Friday night, and we’re staying in school, or should I wear something elegant, to make this date more serious. Next I had a little panic attack for the same reason. Finally, I decided that I’m not gonna dress up. Too much pressure.”

“So you’re going in the same clothes that you were wearing for the whole day?” She asked you, wishing you’ll decide to change.

“Yeah, I don’t want to make it official. We’ll see what is going to happen.”

“At least brush your teeth for Merlin’s sake! I bet this boy is ready for something more than listening to your heart. ” She joked, making you terrified.

“Damn, what if he really does? What If I won’t be able to control myself and change into a werewolf? That would be so humiliating.”

“No! I’m sorry, don’t panic. I think he’ll be excited to see you in that way. You mentioned that he was very cool about that. ” She tried to calm you.

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t control myself. What If I harm him? I don’t want to... If something like that happens, then for sure he won’t keep in touch with me. ” You said, pacing around the dorm to not freak out.

“Oh trust me, this boy is weird. And he likes taking risks. I bet that he will laugh about it and get excited. ” She summed it up, wishing that it might cheer me up.

Because of her, you finally decided to get up and change clothes. You still wanted to be comfortable, hoping that casual clothes would fit in that situation, whatever it may be that George has planned.

After saying goodbye to your friend, you found yourself in the corridors, walking slowly, focusing on breathing slowly. There’s no need to worry, right?

A couple of minutes later you noticed George, standing in front of the Great Hall, just as he said to you earlier, leaning against the wall. He was looking down at the floor, bouncing his head, probably to the song that he couldn’t get rid of. You did not want to interrupt, enjoying the view from afar, but you knew you had no choice.

“Stressed?” You asked him, watching as his eyes slowly looked upon you. “Not any longer. You came. ” He smirked, asking for permission to take my hand. “Why wouldn’t I? Yesterday was fun. ” You admitted, being curious where the two of you are heading to.

Before you realized you were outside of Hogwarts, George led you to the location where everything was prepared. You couldn’t help but wonder what he has in his mind. Is he worried that you may not like that? Is he excited to show you? Is it still a date or just a friendly meeting?

Seconds later the view was starting to get familiar the Black Lake was for sure mesmerizing, but what amazed you more was a huge, colorful blanket with so much food on it.

“Did you make it?” You asked, noticing that a flower crown was also laying on the blanket. “Which charm did you use?” The boy flushed at this question, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, I didn’t use any charm. I got anxious after everything was prepared, so I had to get my hands busy. We were making flower crowns when Ginny was little, so I was worried that I might not do it properly, because it was long ago, but I’m actually proud of that one. ” George explained everything to you, starting to gain his confidence back, seeing that you liked what he had done. He helped you put it on your head, and then you sat down, looking at swans swimming in the lake.

“Do you think that we will eat everything? It looks like a feast for the whole school, or at least for one of the houses. ” The food in front of you was disappearing very, very slowly. Although George was eating all the time, the blanket was still full of all kinds of food. At first, you weren’t eager to try this food, knowing that George might have done something with it, but when he reached for the snacks, you followed his actions.

Talking with him was really pleasant, you felt weirdly comfortable around him, but still the anchor thing was haunting you. Sometimes you couldn’t focus, thinking how are you going to explain it to him. It wasn’t that hard to make words come out of your mouth. What worried you was the commitment. Do you have to be his girlfriend immediately after that confession? Does that strengthen the bond between you two? Or will it mean nothing to him?

You could admit that you liked him. A lot. But those words sounded like you expected him to be more than your friend, and you did not want to rush things. Maybe you’ll consider telling it to him after the date? Depends on if it’s going to be good or end awkwardly?

You decided to brush it off, asking out of nowhere.

“George, what’s like to prank people? Do you feel excited or embarrassed while making them?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never pranked someone.” He said seriously, but seeing your face made him realize that you weren’t joking as well.

“No way. We have to prank someone together. Get up. Plans are changed.” He ordered, making sure that you do what he told you to, and then throwing the spell that made the blanket disappear.

“Did someone get under your skin lately?” Weasley said, probably having the plan already made in his head.

“Filch is yelling at me every day. Apparently Mr. Norris is not fond of my Kneazle.”

“And you’re letting him treat you like that? We gotta do something.”

Going back to Hogwarts was quick and exciting. You never pranked anyone but you heard a lot of stories about the twins doing it, and having a chance to make it with one of them next to you, made you hope that it’s going to be fun. George decided that you’re gonna make a potion that will make Filch speak nonsense, it is Babbling Beverage.

To do this, you had to sneak into the potions classroom, which wasn’t the easiest task, but definitely the interesting one.

Joking with Weasley was really easy, this boy was a comedian. Spending time with him opened your eyes, that not everything has to be taken seriously in life. He could make fun of anything, yet you felt comfortable with him, because he knew when he should stop.

Collecting all the things needed to brew this potion created a silence between you two, because you focused on the responsibility to make it perfect. Considering the fact that neither of you were good in potions, doing all of this was a challenge. But you knew it was worth it. For all the things Filch said to you, offending you every day, you waited for the sweet, sweet revenge.

Finally, feeling ready, you broke the silence.

“George, I have to say something. Please don’t make fun of me.”

“No worries darling. I literally came to you and asked you out even though we didn’t talk much. If you didn’t make fun of me, then I won’t do it to you.” He admitted, taking the ladle out of your hands.

“How much do you know about werewolves?” You started slowly, not wanting to get to the point so quickly.

“Not much. Just that you and Remus are the ones. And that something happens when there’s a full moon. Do you want to say that I should learn more? Because I could do that for you. ” He replied, like it wasn’t a big thing, but it made you smile wide.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You said, not wanting to put the pressure on him. “You know, there’s a thing called an Anchor.” You started, taking a deep breath to think what you should say.

“And what’s that?” He asked out of curiosity, wishing that you could explain everything now, because he hated living with the unawareness. “You can trust me.” He added, taking your palm in his and rubbing it slowly with his thumb.

“I don’t know how to say this. I’m nervous. It... it’s a thing, or a person... actually, it is a person, who can calm the werewolf. They don’t have to be next to the creature, just the thought of them makes the werewolf control everything, making them able to not transform into the beast... you know. ” You started messing up the words, feeling incredibly stressed, and the fact that George was staring deep in your eyes, didn’t help you at all.

“Sorry to bother you, but we have to wait one hour for this ingredient to get warmer. We can sit in the storeroom then.” He took off his jacket, putting it on the floor to make the place a bit more cozy.

You sat next to him, staying silent, knowing that when he interrupted you, it could mean that he’s not interested in the werewolf things. “What you said about the anchor... I think it’s pretty romantic. But why did you mention it to me?”

“Don’t make me say it Weasley. I really don’t want to. I don’t even think I can. ” You tried to make it obvious that it’s him, but he clearly wanted you to admit it out loud.

“No way, is it Snape? That’s why we’re sitting here? Or is it Filch? And you want to show him the affection through the pranks? You're a weirdo, Y/N.” He laughed.

“And you clearly don’t know what I have in mind.” You said, getting the confidence you gained lately.

“Do you mean you’re going to change tonight? Should I run? Or try to keep you calm? ” He was asking.

“If someone’s going to be that dumb, I might harm him. Just in case. ” You tried to tease him back, not wanting to say those words.

“Can I kiss you? These threats sound so hot when it comes out of your mouth. ” He asked, so you nodded quietly, watching as he was leaning closer. “Just don’t bite me, or do it. I would be the best werewolf, and the most handsome one. ” He whispered between the kisses.

“Your heart is so freaking loud. Maybe we should stop, we don’t want you to die or have a heart attack. ” You replied, showing that you care.

“We don’t? I didn’t know that. Also, I thought that you can’t hear it anymore. Since I am your anchor, and all you do right now is think of me...” he said confidently, admitting the things you were scared to say.

“Glad you finally understood. But it doesn’t work like that...” You were eager to explain everything once more, yet George had the courage to interrupt you again.

“Shh, we will have the time for talking. I’m now stuck with you forever, to be your Prince Charming and hero when you won’t be able to control yourself. But you are able now, and the night is long…”

“Don’t be so sure.” You interjected, moving closer and deciding to sit on him.

As George said, the night was long. The two of you forgot about the potion you were making, focusing on something else.

The worst thing was how easy the two of you fell asleep.

Snape seeing you that morning, sleeping, covered with your robes, was quite surprised. And furious. He yelled at you, making you wake up, not knowing where you are and what you were doing last night.

It was obvious that he’s going to serve detention for you.

But what could possibly go wrong, now that you have your anchor beside you?

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