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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

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Through the Wreckage

SUMMARY: When a devastating tornado tears through town, Tyler Owens faces his worst nightmare: the woman he loves is missing. Tyler is thrust into a desperate search through the wreckage to find her. As the storm's aftermath unfolds, it forces him to confront his fears, regrets, and hopes for the future.

A/N: So got inspired for this after watching Twisters earlier today. Just the anguish that we saw from Tyler when he realized Kate was driving into the tornado made me wonder what would happen if the person he loved was missing or in danger. Hence where we ended up here.

WARNINGS: Destruction (ie: a tornado hit so damaged buildings, smoke, dust, sparks, etc.), Blood, Minor Injuries.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The tires screeched as Tyler pulled up to the scene, gravel crunching beneath his truck. He barely shifted into park before throwing the door open and jumping out. His boots hit the ground with a thud, and the first thing his eyes locked on was the building—partially collapsed, its front wall completely gone. The inside was exposed like a broken shell, with beams hanging at jagged angles and smoke or dust curling into the air from where drywall and bricks had crumbled. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t good.

Behind him, Boone’s truck came to a stop, followed by Dani, Dexter, and Lily piling out of their vehicles. Tyler barely registered the sound of their voices calling his name as they ran toward him. His world had narrowed to the destruction in front of him, and one thought pounded in his mind: She’s in there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands, Tyler checked the last location pinged from your phone. His stomach twisted. It matched this address. He swallowed hard, the weight of dread pressing down on him as his eyes scanned the crowd of people that had been pulled from the building and huddled together on the other side of the street. His pulse quickened as he searched for you, desperate for even a glimpse of your face. But you weren’t there.

“Tyler, man, slow down,” Boone said, gripping his shoulder as he came up beside him. “Let’s figure out what’s going on—”

“She’s not out here,” Tyler cut him off, his voice tight and raw. “She’s not with them.” He gestured toward the crowd of people being tended to by paramedics.

His chest heaved as the realization hit him like a freight train: You were still inside.

Without another word, he turned and made a beeline toward the first responders standing near the edge of the debris. His strides were long and determined, his jaw set in grim determination as he ignored Boone’s calls to slow down.

The closer he got, the more chaos surrounded him. The air smelled of smoke and damp concrete, and the sound of crackling debris mixed with shouts from firefighters. But none of it mattered.

“Did everyone get out?” Tyler shouted, his voice hoarse as he reached the nearest firefighter. “Did you see a woman—about this tall, light hair?” He motioned frantically, his green eyes darting around.

He already knew the answer from their hesitant expressions, but he refused to accept it.

“Sir,” one of them started, stepping forward, “it’s not safe—we weren’t able to get to everyone.”

“Where. Is. She?” Tyler growled, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked, raw with fear and desperation. “Her phone’s still pinging from here! I need to know if she made it out!”

Another firefighter shook his head grimly. “We’re still doing sweeps, but the building’s unstable. Most of the front wall came down in the collapse. We can’t risk—”

“Bullshit!” Tyler snapped, cutting him off as he took a step toward the wreckage.

Boone and Dexter were on him in an instant, grabbing his arms to hold him back.

“Tyler, don’t,” Boone urged, his voice low and firm. “You can’t go in there, man. It’s not safe. They’ll handle it.”

“She’s in there!” Tyler shouted, wrenching free from their grip. His voice cracked as he pointed toward the ruined building. “I know she is, Boone! I’m not waiting around while they do their sweeps!” His voice was shaking now, and for a moment, the raw emotion broke through his resolve. His chest heaved, his shoulders trembling as he ran a hand over his face, trying to block out the fear clawing at his mind.

The building groaned, a deep, unsettling sound that warned of further collapse. Tyler’s eyes darted toward it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms.

If you were inside, he wasn’t about to stand by and let the clock run out.

“I’m going in,” he muttered under his breath, and before anyone could stop him, he broke into a sprint toward the wreckage.

“Sir! Stop! You can’t go in there!” a firefighter yelled, his voice sharp with authority.

Another called out, “It’s too dangerous! The structure’s not stable!”

But Tyler didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. The sound of boots pounding behind him told him Boone or Dexter was probably trying to catch him, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the shattered entrance ahead, the gaping maw of destruction that had swallowed you whole.

As he crossed the threshold, the air inside hit him like a wall—thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, squinting to see through the haze. The floor was littered with debris—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, and jagged shards of glass. Wires hung loose from the ceiling, some sparking as they dangled.

The creak of shifting metal echoed through the space, and Tyler froze for a moment, his eyes darting upward. A beam groaned overhead, threatening to give way. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to move, stepping carefully over a fallen section of wall.

“Darlin’,” he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. “Where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the wreckage, his eyes darting from one pile of debris to the next. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of sparks or the distant shouts of first responders outside.

“Come on, darlin’. Give me something,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He tried to focus, to ignore the dread clawing at the edges of his mind.

Tyler’s boot crunched on something, and he looked down to see a broken picture frame, the glass shattered across the floor. Around it were scattered papers, children’s drawings, and a few books covered in dust. He swallowed hard, the small remnants of normal life a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.

Pushing forward, he weaved through the destruction, stepping over overturned chairs and avoiding the sharp edges of broken furniture. The air grew hotter the deeper he went, the faint smell of something burning making his stomach churn.

And then he saw it.

A shoe.

Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it—your shoe, half-buried beneath a pile of rubble. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as his shaking hands reached for it.

“Sweetheart?” he called, his voice breaking. He tossed aside chunks of drywall and splintered wood, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. Blood smeared across the debris as he worked, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to you.

Finally, he uncovered your leg, and his heart seized. You were pinned beneath the debris, your body motionless. Dust and grime streaked your face, and your hair was tangled with bits of plaster.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers were gentle, but his hands shook uncontrollably.

Leaning closer, he pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. And then he felt it—a faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief flooded him, and a choked sob escaped his lips.

“Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

At the sound of his voice, you stirred faintly, your head shifting against the debris that cradled it. The faintest groan escaped your lips, so quiet he almost missed it. Tyler froze, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes shot to your face.

“Darlin’?” He said, his voice trembling with equal parts hope and fear. He cupped your face with one dirt-streaked hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s me. Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Your brow furrowed slightly, and your lips moved, though no sound came out at first. He leaned closer, his ear inches from your face.

“Ty...” The broken syllable fell from your lips like a lifeline, and his chest ached at the sound of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered weakly, just barely cracking open, but it was enough. Enough to send relief crashing over him in a wave so powerful it left him dizzy.

“Oh, thank God,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip yours. He squeezed it gently, willing his strength into you. “Stay with me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

You tried to say something else, your voice a faint whisper he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes as he crouched lower to meet your gaze.

“Don’t try to talk,” he urged softly. “Just save your strength, darlin’. I’m getting you out of here. Just stay with me, okay? That’s all I need you to do. Stay with me.”

The faintest flicker of a nod came from you, but it was enough to shatter the fragile composure he’d been clinging to. His free hand pressed to his mouth as he choked back a sob, his chest heaving with the weight of his fear and relief.

The building groaned again, a deep, ominous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew he didn’t have much time. He slid his arms beneath you, cradling you against his chest as he stood.

With you in his arms, Tyler turned toward the exit, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around him. All that mattered was getting you out of here alive.

Tyler adjusted his grip on you, holding you closer as he stepped carefully over the uneven ground. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The air inside the building was suffocating. Smoke and dust hung thick like a heavy fog, clawing at his lungs with every breath. His throat burned, and each inhale felt like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. He couldn’t lose focus—not now.

Sparks rained down from a severed electrical wire overhead, the sharp sting biting into the exposed skin of his arms. He flinched, gritting his teeth as the acrid smell of singed fabric filled the air.

“Stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and desperate as he looked down at you. “We’re almost out of here.”

Your body shifted slightly in his arms, and a soft, raspy cough escaped your lips. Tyler’s heart jumped at the sound. Panic surged through him, as he saw how shallow your breathing was.

“You still with me?” He called, his voice cracking. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You coughed again, your eyelids fluttering briefly but not opening. A weak, almost inaudible groan escaped you.

“That’s it,” Tyler said, his tone urgent but soft like he was coaxing you back to him. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing for me, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

He stumbled slightly as the ground beneath him shifted—a section of flooring sagging under the weight of the debris. Tyler’s knees buckled for a moment, and he tightened his grip on you, his heart racing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, steadying himself before pressing forward.

The building groaned around him, the sound of metal twisting and concrete cracking growing louder. He could feel time running out.

Another section of ceiling collapsed behind him, sending a fresh plume of dust into the air. Tyler ducked instinctively, shielding you as debris rained down. A sharp edge grazed the back of his neck, and he winced, but he didn’t stop moving.

The exit was just ahead—a faint sliver of light visible through the haze. Tyler pushed toward it, his legs trembling with exertion. His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the lack of clean air began to take its toll.

His steps faltered, and he coughed violently, nearly doubling over. For a moment, he thought his legs might give out, but then he felt a small, trembling hand against his chest. Your hand gripped weakly at his shirt, your head lolling slightly against his shoulder.

“T-Tyler...” you rasped, your voice barely audible.

His breath hitched, and he forced himself to keep moving.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just hang on.”

The exit grew closer, but the smoke thickened, clawing at his throat and lungs. Tyler stumbled again, his knees hitting the floor as his body screamed for oxygen.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head as he clutched you tighter. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the way his legs trembled beneath him.

The light from the exit grew brighter, and he could hear the distant shouts of first responders outside. They sounded muffled like he was underwater, but it gave him just enough hope to keep going.

Sparks rained down again, burning his exposed arms and neck, but Tyler turned his body to shield you, hunching over as he pushed through the final stretch. His back felt like it was on fire, the fabric of his shirt sticking to blistering skin, but he didn’t slow down.

Finally, he broke through the haze, stumbling out onto the pavement. The fresh air hit him like a punch to the chest, and he gasped, his knees giving out as he sank to the ground.

“Help! Somebody—” he coughed violently, his voice raw and barely audible. “Somebody help her!”

Paramedics rushed toward him, but Tyler’s focus was on you. Your face was pale, streaked with dust and sweat, but your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He reached up to brush a trembling hand against your cheek, his fingers stained with soot and blood.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” He whispered, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes.

Tyler cradled you in his arms, his knees rooted to the pavement as the chaos of the world around him blurred into background noise. His only focus was you.

Your head lolled weakly against his chest, and your breaths were growing more shallow and uneven by the minute. A fresh wave of panic crashed over him as your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling. “No, no, darlin’, stay with me. Look at me.”

Your eyes opened slightly, your gaze unfocused as you struggled to lift your head.

“I… can’t,” you murmured, the words barely audible.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. “You’re not quittin’ on me now, you hear me?”

You coughed softly, your body trembling in his arms. Tyler adjusted his grip, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from the pain and the fear.

“We have plans, remember?” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears welling in his eyes. “Dinner tonight, just you and me. You told me you wanted to get dressed up, and said I needed to wear that tie you like. I’m not lettin’ you out of that, sweetheart. You still owe me a dance.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it quickly faded as your eyelids grew heavier.

“And the church,” he continued, desperation lacing his words. “The little church your parents got married in. We’ll get married there, just like you’ve always wanted. You can wear that lace dress you talked about, the one you saw at the boutique last spring.”

You made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your fingers twitched weakly against his chest.

“And kids,” Tyler added, his voice breaking completely now. “Two–hell, however many you want. We’ll give ‘em the best damn life, I promise you that. Just… just stay with me, darlin’. Please.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, glassy but fixed on him.

“Three or four?” you rasped, a faint hint of amusement in your tone.

Tyler let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him like a flood. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt from your cheek.

“Yeah, three or four is perfect, darlin’,,” he said, his forehead pressing against yours as his tears mingled with the soot on his face. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just tell me the names you’ve got picked out, and I’ll make it happen.”

You gave a weak, tired smile, and he could feel the slight rise and fall of your chest against his. But your body still felt too limp, too fragile in his arms.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

Your gaze flickered once more, but before he could plead again, the paramedics swarmed around you.

“Sir, we need to take her now,” one of them said urgently, but Tyler’s arms tightened instinctively around you.

“I’m not leavin’ her,” he said fiercely, his eyes wild as he looked up at them.

“We need space to help her,” the paramedic insisted, their tone gentle but firm.

Tyler hesitated, his heart warring with his head as he realized he had no choice. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You hang on, you hear me?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Reluctantly, he let them take you from his arms, his hands trembling as he watched them load you onto the stretcher. His heart clenched painfully as he saw your pale, dust-streaked face disappear behind the blur of paramedics working to save you.

* * * *

The waiting room of the hospital felt like a void. Time moved differently here, stretching out each second into an eternity. Tyler sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his forearms resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat nearby, their voices low and subdued as they tried to offer support. But Tyler didn’t hear them. His mind was stuck in the chaos of the collapsed building, the sound of your ragged breaths, the weight of your fragile body in his arms.

He stared at the double doors down the hallway, willing someone to come through them with news. Good news. Any news. His burned skin throbbed beneath the bandages the ER nurses had wrapped around him, but he didn’t care. The only pain that mattered was the fear clawing at his chest. The fear of losing you.

“T,” Boone said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong. She’s gonna pull through.”

Tyler nodded absently, his throat too tight to respond. He wanted to believe Boone, but the image of you lying so still, your face pale and streaked with dust, was seared into his mind.

The doors finally swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Tyler shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tyler Owens?” the doctor asked, glancing around the room.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor smiled softly, and Tyler’s knees nearly buckled with relief.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “She inhaled a lot of smoke, and there’s some bruising from the debris, but no major injuries. She’s going to be okay.”

Tyler exhaled a shaky breath, his hands dragging down his face as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?” Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s awake, but she’s still weak. Try to keep it short for now.”

Tyler nodded, barely hearing the last part as he followed the doctor down the hallway. His boots echoed on the tile floor, the sound somehow both grounding and surreal.

When he stepped into your room, his chest tightened at the sight of you. You were propped up in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask resting lightly over your nose and mouth. The faint beeping of the monitors was a comforting reminder that you were still here, still breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him, and despite the exhaustion etched into your face, you managed a small smile.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whispered, your voice muffled by the mask.

Tyler’s lips curved into a smile, and he pulled a chair up to your bedside, sitting down with a sigh of relief. He reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I’ll try,” you teased weakly, your fingers giving his hand the faintest squeeze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Tyler’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes drinking in the sight of you as if to convince himself you were really okay.

“I meant what I said out there,” he finally murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

You frowned slightly in confusion. “What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “The church, the kids, everything. I want it all with you, darlin’. I want to marry you, and I’ll wear whatever you tell me to.”

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but real, and Tyler’s heart swelled.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your smile softening as tears welled in your eyes. “I want it all too, Tyler. I always have.”

Tyler leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s start with dinner,” he said. “Soon as you’re out of here, I’m takin’ you to the nicest place in town. No storms, no distractions, just you and me.”

Your fingers tightened around his as you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Deal. Can we have Italian?”

For the first time in hours, Tyler let himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips as he whispered, “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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mortallydeepestobservation · 4 months ago

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The holiday pretense -1-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air.

Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend.

But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request.

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. And I know I am literally that meme rn, the: summer is over-skips straight to Christmas. But do you have any idea just how slow I write? Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 1-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: again, I didn't write in 8-ish years, so this is very very scary. Add in a dash of 'English is not my first language' and you get whatever this is. enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 2: here

Ah winter, the most wonderful time of the year.

The season when the air is crisp, and the city gets blanketed in thick, white snowfall. When the satisfying sound of crunching snow accompanies every step and every word transforms into nothing more than a puff of steam dancing through the chilly air.

When Mariah Carey’s voice echoes in literally every store for an obnoxious 24/7, as if she has some kind of personal vendetta against silence…

When the heating bill increases by 37%, and it takes an extra 15 minutes for the heater to kick in and for the hot water to grace the showerhead. Ergo, Namjoon now has to wake up half an hour early if he wants to take a shower and not freeze half to death during the day, because the landlord was adamant that there was nothing to be done about the situation.

But it wasn’t all bad.

Sure, Namjoon was never one to possess the so-called Christmas spirit. In fact, he was known to be a bit of a grinch among his friends.

Jin, in particular, enjoyed telling anyone who would listen about their first Christmas at college, when Namjoon adamantly refused to help him decorate the tree after begrudgingly lugging it to their shared apartment.

And most years Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm for the season was palpable. While his friends reveled in the cheerful atmosphere, he somehow managed to remain detached and aloof, his grinch-like demeanor becoming a defining characteristic, much to the amusement of his companions.

However, there were still aspects of the holiday that Namjoon couldn’t help but secretly enjoy. The food, for instance, was undeniably good. Although the movies were mediocre and the music overplayed, he still found himself humming along to Winter Wonderland whenever it played. And the energetic buzz that seized his friends was no doubt contagious;

This year, before he could even process it, he was dubbed designated fairy-light fixer, the judge of the ugly sweater contest (solely because he had the audacity to show up wearing a black hoodie) and somehow promised Jungkook to help him pick up gifts for his mom, his cousin, and girlfriend.

And now, with the holidays looming just around the corner, and the entire city buzzing with chatter about family feasts, romantic rendezvous, and the art of gift-giving, Namjoon couldn't help but feel a little pang of longing. It had been a solid two years since he last set foot in his hometown, and the melancholic urge to return home seemed like the only logical response to it all.

Or maybe he just needed a vacation…

But there was just one thing that kept Namjoon, a logical being, from making that phone call home.

He knew that part of the reason behind his mother’s question was for organizational purposes, yet he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous twinkle in her voice each time she sweetly asked:

“And are you coming alone?”

Few things managed to irk him as much that specific question in that specific context. And even with countless nights analyzing the emotions it stirred within him, Namjoon found himself very stupidly replying with:

“Uhm, no actually-” despite being painfully single, and fully aware of it.

Following that, the hope of regaining any sensible thought was gone as a chorus of ecstatic comments erupted form his mother’s end of the phone. With a hurried, “Can’t wait to see you, yeah, love you too,” he was left in the suffocating silence of his bedroom, with a new predicament he needed to solve.

Now, let’s not forget, Namjoon is no ordinary man. He possesses a brain that could rival Einstein’s, and he knows all too well that he could simply call back and clarify that his plus one is as real as Santa Claus.

But Namjoon doesn’t half-ass anything. He full-asses it.

That and showing up alone would undoubtedly result in his mom’s attempts to play matchmaker. And if he were to show up alone, after lying about it, well, he might as well prepare for an arranged marriage.

Namjoon sighed as he looked at his phone. He couldn’t understand why his mother had this new found obsession with his relationship status. Especially after she witnessed just how bad his last one ended. Now sure, he may have taken the whole ‘healing-era’ to a bit of an extreme, seeing as he had no relationship, no situationship and no inclination to entertain any romantic thoughts whatsoever. But this was getting ridiculous. Lying to his own mother?

Perhaps he could ask his assistant to pretend to be his girlfriend for the week? No, that wouldn’t work. She mentioned she was hosting the Christmas dinner this year. And it would involve more explanations to HR than it’s worth…

And he couldn’t overlook the fact that her fiancé would most certainly not be amused by that idea.

Just as he was about give up and plunge into another rabbit hole of despair, the solution to his problem came accompanied by the familiar sound of glass smashing in the kitchen.

You.

You would be perfect.

Most people already assumed you two were dating, seeing how seamlessly you fit yourself into his life after moving in.

And last he checked you couldn’t make it home because of some pesky law-jargon issues that required your presence at the office. And changing your flight to a few days later cost you an arm and a leg, while changing it to January was completely free.

And last he checked; you were just as chronically single as he was. (He knew because your last date was so disastrous that he had to abandon his gaming night and rescue you from the restaurant).

Another crash in the kitchen summoned him back into action. Swiftly snatching his hoodie from the designated clothes chair and making his way to you, detouring only to retrieve the medical kit from the bathroom.

He was quick to spot you, still clad in your work attire, crouched besides the counter, diligently sweeping the stray glass shards of what used to be an ugly mug. His eyes involuntarily wondering towards your ass, once again marveling at how flawlessly you wore that office skirt before snapping himself out of it.

“And I believe that evens out the score, seeing as I only broke a plate, and you killed two mugs this season” he declares, ensuring you weren’t bleeding before abandoning the first aid kit on the counter to fetch the trusty vacuum cleaner.

It was standard procedure by now.

“You also managed to break the microwave, so the title remains yours,” you grumble as you rose to your feet, a smile unconsciously tugging at your lips when you caught sight of his charming dimpled face. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” he replied, giving you a swift once-over in case he missed any hidden hemorrhages “what happened?”

“It just jumped out of the cupboard when I opened it,” you gestured towards the dust pan, as if to prove the cup suddenly acquired acrobatic skills before its untimely demise, causing him to break into a grin “I’ll get you a new one.”

“No worries, it was a gift form an ex, and it was hideous anyway.”

As he vacuumed the area, you disposed of the glass, making sure it wouldn’t slice through the trash bag like last time.

Once the kitchen was safe again, you returned to your previous task, grabbing a new cup and casually turning your back to him.

" Do you want to try an unreasonably expensive hot chocolate with me?" you playfully suggested, catching his eye as he noticed the purple tin on the counter, adorned with a big red bow, alongside a very generic Christmas card.

"Secret Santa?" he inquired back, picking up the card, already aware of the answer to your question.

Unconsciously, he began mentally listing reasons why you would make a good fake girlfriend. Topping the list was your uncanny ability to understand him without lengthy explanations. And it was all quite digestible, wasn't it? Two long-time friends and roommates, thrown together by chance, suddenly discovering hidden feelings for each other?

All his friends seemed to have unanimously agreed that the two of you would make a splendid pair, back when you met, when his roommate, Jin, started dating your roommate, Myeong.

On their inaugural date, Myeong, in a fit of paranoia, asked you to tag along, in case her potential lover turned out to be a serial killer. And Jin, ever the considerate soul, felt compelled to invite Namjoon, not only to spare you the agony of being the third wheel, but also in the hope of pulling Namjoon out of his dating slump. Not that you would ever notice, as you were knee-deep in exam session, sleep deprived and buried in a mountain of law books.

Poor Namjoon somehow ended up carrying the weight of being third and fourth wheel simultaneously.

But you eventually made up for it, once your exams were over and had a proper 18 hours of sleep.

In no time you wiggled your way into his heart, transforming those awkward double dates into enjoyable hangouts. You’d spend countless hours discussing everything from books to the latest plot twists in popular dramas, to sharing dreams, fears and hopes.

As Myeong and Jin’s relationship blossomed, they gradually faded into the background of your outings, until they were eventually excluded all together. And neither of you seemed to mind, as you found it easier to focus on your conversations without their constant chatter.

That and they couldn’t be quiet in movie theatres like decent human beings.

It was during one of these outings that Namjoon realized just how alluring he found you. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes made his heart race. Your sharp mind and wit were a match made in heaven for him. And your ability to render him speechless was both infuriating and exhilarating.

But Namjoon also knew that you were deeply committed to your studies, and he didn't want to do anything to distract you from your goals. So, he held back, admiring you from a distance and hoping that someday things might be different.

And as time passed, and he graduated, he came to terms with the fact that you two would never be more than casual friends.

Little did he know that the universe had its own wicked sense of humor. When fate decided to play its sly hand and leave you virtually homeless, because your respective roommates decided to take the next step in their relationship and move in together.

It was only logical, then, for the two of you to shack up as well. After all, you were friends, both neat freaks, and most of all, desperately in need of a roommate.

“The roommate switch”, as Jimin so eloquently put it.

And thus began the most wonderful living arrangement Namjoon ever experienced. Not that he would never tell Jin that.

Suddenly, his bathroom cabinet resembled a Bath and Body works store, and your pink pots and pans had taken over his kitchen. But he wouldn’t mind, seeing that the cooking interdiction was extended, once Jin started recounting all the times Namjoon almost turned their previous apartment into a bonfire during your housewarming bash.

However, you never scolded him for his butterfingers because, truth be told, you had your own healthy dose of clumsiness, (the cup chilling in the trash an indisputable witness to it).

It was quite refreshing to find someone who shared his knack for dropping things.

And he made up for all the free meals by taking care of the dishes. He even went above and beyond by meticulously following the odd care instructions for your fancy pots.

And the rest of your household chores fell into perfect harmony.

He willingly handled all the ironing, including your own, simply because you couldn’t be bothered. In return, you would dutifully clean the lint tray in the dryer, even when it was his turn to do the laundry, because he found it absolutely disgusting, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to gross him out.

It suddenly dawned on him why all his friends were convinced that you two were together. He was smitten with you, after all.

But again, time has worked its magic! His infatuation had been long departed, so he could proceed with his plan and not let it affect your friendship in any way, shape or form!

“You know, I never quite understood the purpose of Secret Santa,” you confessed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I mean, sure, it makes sense in a small group where you can actually get to know the person and buy them something nice. But in a corporate setting, where you’re thrown together with people from different departments, it makes absolutely no sense!” you spoke with passion, even stirring the milk a little harder, causing an impish smile to dance across his face.

“Because you end up with situations like this, where creepy Greg from the watercooler suddenly feels the need to win my graces and splurge on stupidly expensive hot chocolate.”

Namjoon was familiar with your HR endeavors involving Greg, especially after he hit on one of your colleagues.

“Do you want to know how much this monstrosity costs?” you asked, trying to contain your amusement at the sheer absurdity of it all. Pouring the cocoa into the milk and placing the mugs in front of him, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Surprise me,” Namjoon took a sip, which he regretted because he choked once you answered,

“Sixty dollars!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” he coughed, once he regained control of his lungs.

The hot chocolate was nice, but nowhere close to justifying the hefty price tag. For all he knew, it could have been dollar store cocoa. But your contagious laugh made it all worthwhile, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe Greg deserved to lose his Christmas bonus on overpriced cocoa that you both would mock.

“Tastes like cardboard” you concluded after a mouthful, “maybe it was meant for that hideous mug your ex gave you,” you teased, earning a puzzled look. “This has horrible taste,” you tack on, noticing his raised eyebrow “just like your exes.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that,” he replied, feigning offense.

“Well, they did break up with you, so clearly their taste is questionable,” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him, your cocoa abandoned on the table.

This wasn’t uncommon in your friendship. Afterall, you were his biggest supporter, as he was yours. But now, with the odd favor he was about to ask you; he couldn’t help but ponder your words for longer than usual. Until he heard the door to your room close and he realized he was left alone in the kitchen.

“Any updates on that flight of yours?” he asked, shooting a glance towards your door. Perhaps the universe would take pity on him and spare him the embarrassment he was dreading.

“Still in January!” you hollered back, your voice muffled by the commotion in your room.

“Ah, cool, cool…” he muttered under his breath, more to psych himself up and gather the courage needed to go over and make a complete fool of himself.

“Are you still planning on heading home?” your voice was barely audible amidst the movement, so he walked over and propped himself against your door to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” He replied absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Not unless he can find a girlfriend for the week. “Hey,” he continued, his voice devoid of any moisture, “can I ask you a favor?”

The door swung open, almost causing him to stumble, to reveal you, wearing pajama bottoms and a black tank top, clutching one of his sweaters.

“Depends.” You answered flatly. “Mind if I borrow this?” you gestured towards the sweater, awaiting his nod of approval before slipping it on and sauntering past him to claim your usual spot on the couch. With your feet cozily tucked under the cushion, you scrolled through your phone, probably looking up another horrible movie you’d force him to watch. Oblivious to the fact that you ticked off another item on his mental checklist: looking damn good in his clothes.

“Okay” he took a deep breath and settled down beside you, his posture impeccable and his gaze fixed on the blank tv screen. You glanced over intrigued by his sudden shift in behavior.

“This is going to be weird, and you can tell me to fuck off any moment this makes you uncomfortable. And I promise I’ll never bring it up again, and we can pretend this never happened,” he stumbled over his words, a stark contrast to his usually calmed and composed demeanor.

Your mind raced, conjuring up the worst-case scenarios as you slowly set aside your phone, captivated by every word leaving his mouth.

Was he about to kick you out?

That only seemed to aggravate whatever Namjoon was on, as he continued to mumble, insisting that you didn’t have to agree to it if you didn’t want to. Which didn’t make any sense, because if he was going to kick you out, he should at least have the balls to tell you straight forward.

You gently collected his hands, causing him to halt abruptly. His wide eyes finally locked with yours as you softly uttered “Just tell me.” You peered up at him, bracing yourself for the worst, and completely unprepared for what was to follow.

“Will you please do me a solid and pretend to be my girlfriend for a week?” he stammered, unable to maintain eye contact, his voice fading into a whisper towards the end.

“What?”

“I might have told my mom I’m in a relationship, and now I desperately need a stand-in girlfriend for the next few days” he confessed sheepishly, quickly adding, “But seriously, if you’re uncomfortable with this, just say the word and we can erase this whole conversation from existence.”

“Oh my goodness, Namjoon,” you breathed out in relief, a laugh escaping your lips as you rested your head on his lap, leaving him even more perplexed. “I thought you were kicking me out.”

“What?” he chuckled, watching you raise a few seconds later, rubbing your eyes before fixing your gaze on him, contemplating his request.

“How can you be so brilliant and so dumb at the same time? Just call your mom back…”

“No, you don’t get it. I can’t do that. If I do, she’ll set me up with the neighbor’s daughter again” Namjoon explained, clearly not in the right mindset to entertain that idea again.

“You want me to lie to your mother?” you asked incredulously.

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” he covered his face, deflating completely besides you.

“This is essentially what you are asking me to do... I don’t know how that makes me feel. Your mom, by the way, is an absolute sweetheart…” you trailed off, observing him intently as he brushed away the hair in his eyes.

You didn’t get to know her too well, but the last time she visited she made sure to stock up your whole fridge with homecooked meals. And to top it off, she even baked cookies especially for you once Namjoon mentioned he had a new roommate.

The discussion, however, took a bit of an unexpected turn when she realized the roommate was you. A girl and not another frat guy. But she quickly developed a fondness for you. Or at least, that’s what you believed when she gave you the tightest hug goodbye.

“I know. It’s a stupid idea.” He muttered, rubbing his face a bit harder than necessary. Then he locked eyes with you and continued. “I am well aware of how dumb this is. And that is exactly why I need you there with me.” His statement left you dumbfounded, completely unable to find any words. “I just want to go home and relish in the fact that I am there without constantly worrying about being single.” he took a shaky breath before continuing,

“I can’t comprehend why my mom is so fixated on this matter.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I just need someone to navigate this absurdity with me for the holidays, and then we never mention it again.”

His little speech left you stunned, and before you knew it, you were actually considering his proposal.

Your Christmas plan was already ruined, and agreeing would mean that you would not be confined to your couch, enduring cheesy Hallmark movies and crying alone on Christmas eve.

Moreover, you were convinced that you had moved on from the little crush you had on him back when you met. Refusing still to admit that you’ve always had a soft spot for the gentle giant that slowly became a staple in your life, and that spending the holidays with him would be the best scenario that could ever happen.

But could you make it through this without getting your heart trampled and your friendship going up in smoke? As these thoughts started to swirl in your mind, your eyes began to wander aimlessly. From his eyes to his chiseled cheekbones and strong jawline, down to his neck and collarbone, and finally to his impressively muscular chest that seemed to only have grown since he started attending the gym religiously with Jungkook. And not to mention those arms that give the most incredible bear hugs. It was strange to allow yourself to notice his physicality in such detail, as if you had been willfully blind to his newfound buffness until now.

“Forget it, I’m sorry I asked,” he said, sensing your hesitation and preparing to end his suffering. But you stopped him in his tracks.

“If we are going to do this, we need a plan.” His eyes light up, color returning to his cheeks, before he squeezed you in a tight embrace “and just so you know, you owe me,” you laughed once he released you.

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want.”

“You take out the trash for a month,” he was too quick to nod “and I want you to take me to that bakery you and Jin always rave about.”

“Ajumeoni’s bakery?” he smiled at your request. That was the bakery Namjoon visited with his sister every Friday as a child, and every other day with Jin, on their way to school, because the milk bread was to die for. “Of course. It’s already part of the commute, so consider it done.”

“Good. We have a deal then,” you extended your hand as if sealing a business agreement, instead of setting yourselves up for a disaster. He reciprocated with a firm shake, and you swiftly retrieved your notepad from the coffee table. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, let’s establish a few key details about us. We need to become well-acquainted with each other’s personal preferences, so it doesn’t come across like we are just… pretending” he looked over at you as you scribbled.

“I mean, it’s a digestible story already. Two oblivious roommates, suddenly realizing they have feelings for one another after living together for years.” You mused, only to be met with his response.

“And once this is all over, we can simply tell everyone that we figured out we were better off as friends than lovers,” he pondered aloud.

“Right,” you replied, looking up from your notebook “How long have we been dating?”

“Anywhere from three to six months” he promptly answered and you jot it down before firing off your next question.

“And why haven’t we told any of our friends and family?”

“To avoid the inevitable ‘I knew it!’ and because we like the trill of keeping a secret.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckled “So, how did we get together?”

“You finally realized how charming I am and just couldn’t contain yourself?” he flashed a cheeky smile and you playfully deflect by giving his chest a gentle push.

“How about your birthday party?” you offered “We were both buzzed enough to share a kiss and then you confessed?”

“Why do I confess?” he whined, peering over at your notebook page where you already wrote down your version of events.

“Because I’m shy about that kind of stuff” you mumble, burying your face in the cozy confines of his sweater, avoiding any potential eye contact.

“That’s adorable,”

“Shut up.” You chuckle “Alright, is there anything I should know about you?”

“I’m not a big fan of PDA, especially when we’re out and about, so don’t expect me to be all over you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But since we’re going home and pretending to be a couple, what level of affection are you comfortable with?”

“Well, I’m comfortable with you,” you cleared your throat, that bit of information being more truthful than intended “we can hold hands, and do normal couple stuff.”

“How do you feel about kissing?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” you responded nonchalantly, eyes fixating on the notepad in your hands.

A mischievous grin played on his lips as he teased, “Good, because I happen to be quite fond of leaving hickeys.” That broke you out of your little spiral, rolling your eyes at his poor attempt.

As if you weren’t already aware of this tidbit from his past conquests during your college days, before you two became roommates.

“You do know this is all pretend, right?” you retorted, refusing to take the bait.

“Oh, but baby, we’ve got to make it feel real,” he insisted, his tone dripping with charm. However, it did nothing to sway your logical approach to it.

“Right, ‘baby’” -you said it as if it was a legal term, “any preferences for pet names?”

Your serious charade did little to detour him. “Just promise me that our interactions won’t be like Jin and Myeong’s.” He smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And surprise me, I’ll be putty in your hands.”

“So, you are not set on honorifics. I can call you Oppa if you want,” little did you know, your innocent suggestion struck a hidden chord within him. A new kink that needed further assessment later on, preferably after this week was over.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, clearing his throat and reclining against the couch. “Anything I should know about you?”

You pondered his question for a few seconds, allowing a sly smile to play your lips. “I don’t like feet.”

“No duh!” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before regaining his composure. With a meticulous air, he went over all the details once more. “Ah, you need a new background on your phone.”

Swiftly, he snatched your phone form the coffee table, catching you off guard, and planted a quick kiss on your cheek before snapping a selfie. “Perfect,” he declared, a proud smile spreading across his face as he set the picture as your home screen and background, leaving you to gather your frenzied thoughts.

“But wait, you also need a new photo,” You retorted, only to find him already one step ahead, pulling out his phone from his pajama bottoms and scrolling through his camera roll.

“Done.” He announced, turning his phone towards you to reveal the horrendous picture he had chosen as his own home screen.

A candid shot he took during your last year at college, on one of those late-night noodles runs to the local shop next to the library. You were draped in an oversized hoodie, greedily slurping a mouthful of noodles. With eyes blissfully shut, you savored every bite, as it was your first meal of that day, completely oblivious to his hidden photography skills.

It wasn’t until you accidentally stumbled upon your caller ID that you saw it and naturally, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him, demanding an immediate change. But he stood his ground, claiming it was his favorite photo of you.

Claim proven yet again as now it was Namjoon’s home screen.

“I hate that photo.”

“I know.” He gave a smile, before safely tucking his phone back in his pocket, and rose to his feet, stretching leisurely. “I think we are good to go, girlfriend,” he said it in such a way that sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “I’ll go book our train tickets, and you better start packing soon,” he playfully pointed at you, before gracefully disappearing into his room to retrieve his laptop.

“Oh, wait, I need to get a present for your mom!”

~~~

Before the train even arrived in the station, the sky was threatening to unleash upon you. The air filled with delicate snowflakes, determined to bury you, Namjoon, and your luggage. But it was yesterday’s conversation that still lingered in the atmosphere, weighing heavy on both your minds.

The darkness of the night had given you both time to process what was about to unfold. Your only anchor on reality being Namjoon’s surprisingly warm hand clasping your freezing one, and tucking it away in his warm coat pocket.

And the fact that he looked like he just strolled out of the latest winter Vogue edition for men didn’t help. While you attempted to make a lasting impression, donning a cream knitted dress, black stockings and boots, topped off with a cream coat, that was far too flimsy for the weather, Namjoon effortlessly sported a navy-blue hoodie, snug jeans and a stylish black trench coat, and even a matching beanie that made his hair look absolutely flawless.

But beyond his impeccable fashion sense, he also proved to be quite the gentleman. Not that you ever doubted it, but now he seemed determined to showcase his chivalry. He wouldn’t even let you lock the door to your own apartment. It was a miracle he allowed you to carry the bottle of Chardonnay you insisted on getting his family, despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. You slightly regretted it now, seeing as your other hand was enduring the elements, instead of being intertwined with his.

“You have snow in your hair,” you pointed out, stating the obvious with the brilliance of a water-is-wet revelation.

“As do you.” he looked up from his phone, where he was engrossed in checking the train’s schedule for any potential delays. “And your lips are blue.” with a swift motion, he untangled his scarf and gently draped it around your freezing form. Something he had done many a time before, anytime he saw you slightly cold, but never before had you considered this gesture to be more than your friend looking out for you.

But today, things were different. Today you were pretending to be his girlfriend.

The sudden surge of warmth that enveloped you left you wondering if it was due to all your blood rushing to your cheeks or his scarf possessing some sort of magical heating abilities.

“It says here that the snow storm shouldn’t intervene with the scheduling, so the train will be here in a few minutes.” He looked up again, a cheerful grin appearing across his features as he caught sight of your pink face. “Aw you’re blushing again,”

“Shut up.” you retorted with the quick-wittedness of a third-grader.

“If I would have known it was this easy to make you flush, I would have made my fictional moves much sooner.” His voice did that thing again, where it went slightly deeper and, only the look in his eyes ticking you off to his teasing.

Your only response was to nervously nibble on your lip. Again, the realization that you are about to deceive not only his mother, but his entire family nestle in your chest, squeezing at your heart like a snake wrapped around it.

“Namjoon, I’m not sure about this.” you confessed, pulling the scarf closer to your face. It was a bit late to be getting cold feet, but this was your last opportunity to speak your mind before embarking on this little ordeal. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

“Come on now, aren’t you an intern at a law firm?” he raised a playful eyebrow, attempting to ease the tension, but you only glared at him.

“I can’t lie.” You stated firmly “I’m the absolute worse at it. That is why I always find alternative ways of convey the truth. That’s what lawyers do. We don’t resort to lies.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he quickly apologized, before falling silent for a few seconds to ponder a solution. "Okay, listen. You don’t have to say anything."

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

"I can take care of all the relationship talk, and I won’t say anything unless prompted.” he replied, trying to inject a touch of wit into his response. “Afterall, you are just my friend that just happens to be a girl.” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you “And I want you to spend Christmas with me and my family instead of being alone at home.” Namjoon gave you a sincere smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the grip on your heart slightly loosen.

“Okay,” you gave a small nod “Thank you Joon.”

The nickname slipped by unnoticed, but you noticed the way Namjoon reacted, rekindling your burning cheeks.

“So, no Oppa?”

When your train arrived, Namjoon swiftly took charge, effortlessly carrying all the bags to your seats, settling in comfortably for the four-hour journey ahead.

He had come prepared, armed with at least three books to keep himself entertained, while you had grand plans of getting a head start on your work, perhaps even sneaking in a personal lecture and a quick power nap. However, much to your surprise, the allure of a nap quickly surpassed all other ambitions, your head found a cozy resting place on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you drifted off into a blissful slumber for the remainder of the journey. A sleepless night imagining what it would be like pretending to date your roommate could do that to you.

Only stirring awake when you were less than a few minutes away, because Namjoon was constantly shifting in his seat, half of his body numb from your weight on him.

“Oh hey,” he whispered, swiftly stretching his legs as soon as you moved off him. “I just spoke to Minhi, she said she’d come pick us up from the train station,”

“Oh, that’s nice.” you yawned, rubbing away any remnants of sleep from your eyes “You could have told me to move, you know.”

“Yes, but you looked so peaceful. It felt almost wrong to disturb you.” He grinned, fully aware that he also indulged in a little nap, using your head as a pillow just half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” you whispered, poking his thigh and retrieving your makeup bag to quickly fix your face before the train pulled up in the station.

The frigid air pierced through your very bones, sending an instant shiver cascading down your spine as you stepped into the snow filled air. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, trying to ward off the cold as you looked around for Minhi, seeing as Namjoon was on luggage duty again.

However, before you could spot her, Minhi’s voice sliced through the chilly air,

“Kim Namjoon, you have got to be kidding me.”

Namjoon’s little sister, all bundled up in a thick winter coat had fixed you two with a piercing stare, her hands on her hips in a classic display of sibling disapproval.

Namjoon’s wonky smile did nothing to deter her piercing gaze, or calm any of your fraying nerves. “It’s good to see you too?”

You feel your heart drop as Minhi's gaze shifts from her brother to you, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. Your worst fears are confirmed - she's figured you out and you haven’t even been off the train for 5 minutes. Now Namjoon will be married off to some rich middle-aged woman and you'll never be able to look him in the eye again.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you look away, silently praying that the snow beneath your boots doesn’t melt into a puddle while she stares.

But then, unexpectedly, Minhi starts to laugh. At first, it's a quiet chuckle, but soon it grows into a full-blown laugh. She laughs so hard that she has to hold her stomach, and at the end she wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

“You two are perfect for each other,” she says still chuckling “Fine, I’ll play along. How did you two end up together?”

“Got drunk one night.” Namjoon casually replied, rubbing the back of his neck before wrapping his arm around you, “Turns out all I had to do was say something, because she was all over me the next second.”

Minhi raised her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right,” She hugged Namjoon tightly, and then turned to you, surprising you with a warm embrace. She muttered something about Namjoon never confessing his feelings in your coat, but you were too busy drowning in a whirlwind of confusion and relief to register it.

“We'll talk more later about how inappropriate this is." She added cheerfully, beckoning you to follow her towards her little yellow jeep, bright against the snowy backdrop.

You look back at Namjoon just in time to catch him winking in your direction and giving you a thumbs-up that sent your heart whirling in your chest.

The car ride was over faster than you would have wanted. Minhi navigated the snow-laden road while she and Namjoon chatted away about mundane topics—work, rent, the best coffee in town. You sank deeper into the backseat, overwhelmed and lost in your thoughts. Because What the hell was that and If this was how you were kicking things off you might as well turn around now. Was it just fear of ruining the friendship or was an old crush budding again? The way he ‘claimed’ you in front of Minhi clearly ignited something in your chest that was not appropriate for friends or roommates or roommate-friends pretending to be dating.

As if sensing your turmoil from the front, Namjoon caught your eyes, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile before the car came to a halt. He gallantly opened the door for you, his hand grasping yours and squeezing it tightly.

“I got you, baby,” he says, teasingly, but the poorly-timed joke earns him an immediate glare and an elbow to the ribs.

“Oh, come on. They are lovely people.” Minhi interrupts before Namjoon can retaliate, “You should’ve seen the way mom was dancing around the kitchen once she heard Namjoon was bringing someone over.”

You just blink at her, your breath misting in the air as you unconsciously step closer to Namjoon, giving him a small nod of support. His presence radiates warmth, his fingers tightening around yours as you walked towards the small house that looms in front of you. Minhi ambles ahead, dropping her bag near the entrance, while you could practically feel Namjoon vibrating with excitement.

“Someone’s in trouble” She whispers dramatically, letting you both into the warmth of the household, where laughter and the mouthwatering scent of home-cooked food intertwine. You follow her into the kitchen and you see the older couple husting about, half-focused on a pot bubbling over the stove and half on each other.

“Mom! Dad! Look who I’ve brought!” she announces, and the couple turned, smiles blooming as they spotted you and Namjoon.

For a fleeting moment, you felt exposed. Like an exhibit at a museum, thrust into the spotlight. Your breath hitched as Namjoon gently nudged you forward, a gesture both comforting and terrifying, but steeling yourself, you bravely stepped ahead, bowing as a sign of respect.

“I knew it!” The affectionate glow sweeping across Mrs. Kim face relaxed your nerves considerably, “I’m so glad you could make it!” her eyes sparkled with genuine delight, and you suddenly realized that Namjoon inherited his dimples from her. But the thought was quickly squeezed out of you as she enveloped you in that bone-crushing hug.

Namjoon’s father, a tall elderly man with kind eyes, patted him on the back. His approval apparent, before he turned his attention to you, “Welcome to our home,” he said warmly.

“I’m honored to be here.” You managed to respond, your voice quacking slightly but laced with sincerity. You heard Minhi groaning in the background but did your best to ignore her exaggerations and focus only on Namjoon’s parents, as you exchanged the required pleasantries.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Kim said, bustling around the kitchen with effortless grace. The contrast between her elegant movements and Namjoon’s clumsy demeanour in the kitchen made you smile inwardly “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Yes, we didn’t get a chance to eat today,” Namjoon added quickly, casually leaning against the counter and stealing a taste from the simmering pot.

“I’ll call you over once it’s done. Go show our guest to your room until then,” Mrs. Kim commanded, expertly shooing him away from the stove and passing plates to Minhi.

“My room?” Namjoon echoed, his eyes widening as if the concept had floored him.

“Yes, dear. I know we are old-fashioned, but we are not under any illusions that you two don’t already share a room.” Mrs. Kim replied, stirring the bubbling pot without sparing him a glance.

Minhi shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and something you couldn’t quite place—sympathy, perhaps? Or pity?

“Yes- No. I just thought that it would be more appropriate to let her have the guest room,” Namjoon articulated, his voice half-hearted in its conviction.

Mrs. Kim merely cooed, waved away his protests with a flick of the wrist. “Minhi and Jackson are staying in the guest room. You can have your room.”

“Come on, Namjoon. You always make everything so complicated,” Minhi chimed in, her voice laced with mischief. “Just accept it. You guys will have an entire night to sort things out, right?”

“Right.” he grumbled, shooting her a glare that softened as he turned his gaze back to you “Let’s get you settled in,” he gestured for you to follow him.

The moment you step into Namjoon's room, a charged silence enveloped you- like the kind that proceeds a brewing storm. The room was exactly as you imagined, a blend of cooler minimalist décor and hints of his personal touch, a few pieces of art and pictures hung up on the wall, all whispering tales of youth, friendship and moments you yearned to know more about.

But all those sweet memories fade into the background as the reality settled in: there was only one bed.

“So, let me get this straight,” you began, the awkwardness hanging heavily in the air “You thought about everything, including phone wallpapers, but forgot you only have one bed in your room?”

“No, of course not.” He lied, that endearing grin spreading across his face. “I just thought it would be polite to let you have the bed… since you’re my guest.” He seemed genuinely proud of the excuse, but that pride melted when you teased,

“Before or after you plan for the guest room fell through?”

“After.” He admitted at last, glancing away, as if the walls held all the explanations he could not muster.

“Don’t tell me you planned on sleeping on the floor too,” for a brief moment the ridiculous image of him curled up on the hardwood floor, blankets draped haphazardly around him pops into your mind, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“No.” He smiles, “I knew you’d take pity on my lower back,” his dimples deepened and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Very strategic Mr. Kim,” you laugh, walking further into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The playful banter creating a familiar atmosphere, dissolving any lingering tension. A part of you almost couldn't believe you were in Namjoon’s personal space, taking your sweet time admiring the various little parts of him decorating the room, while another part was acutely aware of his gaze on you, observing you as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

He stepped closer, his expression sincere, drawing you in gently as he took your hands in his. “Are you sure?” The tentative nature of his voice hinted at a deeper question—he was about to add an ‘I was only joking’—but you quickly shushed him.

“Yes, of course.”

There were a few past occurrences where the two of you ended up falling asleep together on the couch, limbs tangled under the fuzzy throw blanket, with a movie playing in the background. Without fail, one of you would wake up in the morning to find the other wrapped around them, as the night was chilly and body heat was a rare luxury. Most of the time it was Namjoon that dozed off first, his head lolling in an awkward position until you gently nudged him into a more comfortable posture, knowing he’d whine about neck and/or shoulder pain come morning time if you didn’t. But his lug of a body was always warm, so you didn’t mind snuggling closer to him when it mattered.

This was more of the same. Just in a bed.

You swallow drily, eyes flickering away for a quick second, “I told you, I’m comfortable with you.”

“Come on, lovebirds!” Minhi’s voice rang through the door, breaking the spell. “Dinner’s ready!”

You shared a hurried glance, perspectives shifting as the familiar nervousness rushed back to you.

“Ready?” he asked, his smile spreading across his face, deepening the dimples in his cheeks as he tugged you up to your feet. You nodded, suddenly buoyed by a sense of belonging.

To your surprise, dinner goes by without a hitch. You may have gone a little overboard on the kimchi, but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t recover from. However, the warmth of Namjoon’s hand resting softly on your thigh might etch itself into your memory for all time.

Halfway through the meal, Jackson showed up, and you got to observe with amusement as Minhi transformed in his presence, her demeanor shifting from the laid-back hostess to a giddy schoolgirl. The way she playfully nudged Jackson, her eyes sparkling each time she teased him, be it about his late arrival or some inside joke, was a refreshing sight. And you couldn’t help but snicker each time Mrs. Kim would chastise them, before dotting lovingly on anything you and Namjoon did together.

As the lively conversation flowed around you, you leaned into Namjoon’s warmth. It felt easy, and so right to nestle beside him, to let your fingers brush against his with familiarity, each touch igniting tiny sparks. You stole a glance at him, watching as he engaged wholeheartedly in the conversation, his contagious laughter filling the room.

After dinner, you offered to help Mrs. Kim clear up the table, even if it was to get a second to clear your thoughts, but to your surprise, Mr. Kim placed a soft hand on your shoulder, smiling, as he gently guided you back to your seat.

“You’ve done enough, dear,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring “We appreciate your help, but tonight is for you and Namjoon to enjoy.” He gave you a kind nod, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Yeah, there will be dishes tomorrow too,” Minhi interrupted, getting a heartfelt laughter from her father before he left the room, to join his wife in the kitchen.

You shared a sheepish glance with Namjoon, who watched the exchange with an amused smile. His eyes twinkling in the soft light of the dining room, and you felt your heart pick-up the pace in your chest again. You really needed to get away, perhaps splash some cold water on your face. But just as you felt the urge to excuse yourself, you overheard Jackson's whispered confusion.

“Wait, so they’re not actually dating?” His voice was muted, and laced with confusion as he looked between you and Namjoon, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Kyung Min!” Namjoon called Minhi by her full name, which made her owlishly blink up at him.

“What? He asked how long you two have been dating for,” she defended.

“And you couldn’t just say three months, like a normal person?” Namjoon shot back, half laughing, half exasperated and watched as her brows knitted.

“No! He deserves to know.” She persisted, glaring at her brother, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck, trying desperately to remain inconspicuous under Jackson’s incredulous stare.

“So how exactly does this work?” Jackson asked, stopping the siblings from their bickering “Is it like friends with benefits or-?” just when you thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, the sip of water you took ended up going down the wrong way, making you choke and sputter.

“No! it’s nothing like that.” You stammered, trying to form a coherent thought, but all you could manage was a mangled mess of words.

“No babe, they don’t even kiss,” Minhi added, placing her hand over his as if she were breaking some bad news.

But Namjoon reacted with the prove-your-sibling-wrong part of the brain, making you stare at him in disbelief.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we do.”

And your pulse picked up again when you saw him leaning in, the implication clear in your mind. You steeled yourself, closing your eyes. But to your astonishment, he didn’t press his lips against yours as you had envisioned. Instead, they grazed the curve of your cheek, followed by a loud, exaggerated kiss.

“I’m confused.” Jackson mumbled, looking over at Minhi as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not the only one.”

~~~

Why didn’t he just kiss you?

The thought still lingered stubbornly at the edge of consciousness, even as the icy water from the shower jolted you into the present. You fumbled with the knobs, trying to figure out the right temperature, but your mind was elsewhere.

That scene kept on replaying on a constant loop in your head, each time leaving you just as stumped.

What stopped him?

You talked about this- he brought it up! And you agreed, so what was the hold-up? Was he really so uninterested that the mere thought of kissing you sent him into retreat mode?

Frustration bubbled up alongside the steam, and you invertedly cringed at the image of his nervous smile that still haunted you, his eyes darting away. Scrubbing harder at your skin, you wish the shame and embarrassment would simply wash away with the suds.

And the absurdity of getting worked over your friend not kissing you was not lost on you, but at least if he had gone for it, you might have been able to push that nagging question aside ~What would it be like to kiss Namjoon?

His lips looked so soft, like they were meant for more than just talking…

You violently shook that thought away, and with a resigned sigh, you turned the water back to cold in an attempt to wash away your sins. Friends don’t kiss!

And he clearly wasn’t interested, so the sooner you silence these thoughts, the sooner you could go back to being normal. Just four more days of pretending to be his girlfriend. You could manage that. And after, you promised yourself you’d lock yourself in your room and avoid human interaction for rest of your miserable life.

As the water continued its relentless pour, you felt your fingertips start to wrinkle, a reminder that perhaps it was time to step out of this session of self-pity. With one last shudder, you turned the water off, determined to face the world- if only for a little while longer.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the room. Namjoon was already tucked into bed, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he quietly looked over the pages of a book. Only, in reality he hadn’t been able to absorb a single word in the past fifteen minutes, his gaze lost in a world of his own.

Silently, you made your way to your side, wrapping yourself in the blanket and turning your back to him. A slight shiver coursed through you as you felt the warmth envelop you, the little tremor alerting Namjoon to your presence.

“Why are you so cold?” he asked softly, shifting slightly closer to you.

Your heart thudded at the caring tone, and for a moment, all the questions crowd your mind again.

Instead of answering, you huffed in frustration and turned to face him.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” the words blurted out before you could stop them, surprising you both with their boldness, but your face flushed when you met his gaze.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he froze, the book forgotten on his lap. “I-I don’t know.” He stuttered, his hand running though his tousled hair, the soft strands falling back in place but not hiding the flush creeping up his neck. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense, eyes averted again in a way that tightened your stomach.

“It would’ve convinced Minhi sooner,” your added, your words hanging heavy in the air. Namjoon chuckled awkwardly, running that same hand down his face.

“You want me to kiss you?”

You hesitated, the corners of your mind fanatically searching for a safe answer

“I’m just saying it would’ve made things easier,” you deflected, avoiding his question much like he had done moments before.

He studied you for a moment, gears visibly turning in his mind before his lips curved into a small, daring smile. “Because I can kiss you if you want.”

Your breath caught in your throat, surprised by the sudden shift in tension.

“Now?” you breathed.

“Why not?” he shrugged “We’re both clearly anxious about it, so why not just get it over with?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, lost for words, staring up at him. All the courage from before evaporating into thin air. You quickly searched his features, seeking the playful glint, the laughter behind his eyes, but instead, his eyes just flickered from yours to your lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you finally found the words, and his eyes snapped back to your own.

“I think it would make things easier going forward,” he replied, his voice low and earnest.

A heavy silence settled between you, stretching like an elastic ready to snap at any moment, as snowflakes continued to drift outside, dressing the world in white.

You took a deep breath, “Fine.” Ultimately you mumbled, sitting up against the headboard and turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”, The way he phrased it made your stomach flop, as if he were validating a choice that seemed both reckless and somehow still challenged you.

“Yes, now stop talking and just-” The words were lost as the space between you disappeared. But now you knew; his lips were soft, warm and tentative against yours. It felt wonderful, and sent tingles shooting through your veins while your heart tried erratically to catch up. He hesitated for a heartbeat- less than a fraction of a second- before he leaned further in, deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. And you soften against him, all the tension melting away. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of emotions that released once you tasted his mint toothpaste.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for breath, the world resumed its muted noised- the quiet hum of the heater, the faint sound of voices downstairs, Namjoon’s breath against your lips. You could hardly meet his eyes, until you heard the first thing that left his lips.

“I just kissed you.”

Your eyebrow arched, blinking at him as if waiting for the punchline that never came.

“I know. I- was there too.” You replied, a little smile creeping on your face despite the rapid thump of your heart. Namjoon laughed softly; his cheeks still tinged with a shade of pink. “You’re a good kisser.” You added after a few beats of silence, before chewing on your lip, and unintentionally drawing his attention back to them.

“You too,” He gave a curt nod, remembering he has a book on his lap and fumbling to bookmark and put it away.

Another moment of silence followed once he settled back, and your eyes desperately scanned the walls for something, anything to say.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” you settled on the worst option, slightly cringing.

“No!” he answered louder than he anticipated, slightly shocking you which in return startled him. “I mean-” he let out an exasperated breath, “Friends kiss all the time.”

He didn’t believe it. And neither did you. But you still nodded in agreement.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #knj x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #namjoon x y/n #the holiday pretense

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ughdontbeboring · 23 days ago

Text

bunny

Ari Levinson X Black/WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

You’re the new bartender at Ari’s club and tonight you’ve had enough with how the other women treat you but don’t end up fired like you feared.

warnings: Ari lol. Sex. Bullying. Insecurities about weight. Fat shaming.

note: I still have love for Ari but this is the only thing I’ve finished for Ari and probably won’t be writing anything new for him either bc of other hyper fixations taking over my mind 😂 but I hope yall enjoy it and all its errors bc I’m too lazy to fix them. I’m trying to empty out the fics in my notes so the range of characters I’ve been stuck on over the years is crazy 😂 this has been in my notes a month shy of a year 🙃

also reader is always written with a black/woc perspective but no actual description in this one other then weight.

The cool air danced over your exposed skin, working for a night club meant the exposure was necessary. It attracted customers and that usually meant you got good tips. You didn’t mind, you enjoyed finally having a reason to wear pretty things all the time.

You wasn’t even sure how you got into your current situation, you had been sitting across from your boss’s desk crying. You were so embarrassed when the tears started. Ever since you started the night club the other women working made your life hell, at first you thought it was initiation but it prolonged week after week. Next week making 4 months you’d been on the clock here and every day you worked was a day you had to deal with their bullshit, they were by far worse than the male customers that tried getting handsy. At least the male customers got dealt with and thrown out.

Apparently the club really never had much issue with the bartenders getting pushed up on, only the dancers, but when you started that changed. You thought your boss would fire you for the problems it caused at the bar but he just added security around the bar, adding a strict rule about the behavior at the bar and towards bartenders. Mostly you.

You had ignored the gossip that it was especially for you, that the boss has some fondness for you. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. All the beautiful skinny women running around you knew he sure as hell wasn’t interested in you. Yea, you knew you were beautiful, you had eyes you could see your face but you were fuller, more plump than any other woman here. That alone lead you to believe you couldn’t be his type, no other women who looked like you worked here. Didn’t that mean something?

You was surprised you even got the job, your potential boss did nothing but glare at you while the interview went on. He also told you dancing was off the table for you, but it had to be because you didn’t look like the other women. You were so hurt but did your best to not show it. You needed that extra money dancers got not believing you would do well fully clothed. Who did?

But you were wrong. The men drooled over you so much so the women complained about all the men being at the bar instead of their tables. Which meant you got great tips and more tips than usual since the men wanted to get their own drinks instead of the dancers bringing them to their tables. Men wanted to be around you.

Through out the long nights you’d always catch your boss glaring down from his offices floor to ceiling windows. It was remote controlled, he could black out the windows when he wanted or have them clear so people could see him. It made your stomach flip at the thought he had wanted you to see him staring.

Sometimes he’d have you personally bring his drinks up, which caused the men to groan with displeasure at your absence or he’d end the night by coming down personally for his drink when making inventory lists and everyone was gone and the cleaning crews took over. He’d always tip well. So well you didn’t have to work the rest of the week if you didn’t want to, but you did and saved your money like the plan called for. On nights you had the courage you’d asked him questions, simple questions as he sat across from you at the bar. “How was his day” and such. He’d humor you with short polite answers, a smirk playing on his lips at your failure to hide your nervousness and arousal. You’d always have to clench your legs when you’d finally hear his voice usually for the first time that night and see that smirk.

Ari Levinson, God he was a menace and the only person in the world you’d let call her some cutesy silly name like Bunny.

You felt his presence tower over you and your mind finally caught back up to the present moment. You were in his office because one of the other women finally pushed you to the breaking point. You was embarrassed that something to stupid could finally get you to react.

“What happened Bunny?” He husked while sharp blue stared down at you.

He was so close, too close, you could hardly focus. You wiped away a stray tear before taking a deep breath.

“It was nothing” you stuttered out, avoiding eye contact.

“It wasn’t nothing you broke her nose baby, now Bunny I won’t ask again” his voice was demanding but without malice.

You breath hitched as your eyes found his, storm blue ones raging. Though you totally misread it. What you miss took for anger because you let yourself believe the lies was Ari’s control hanging on by a thread.

You contemplated lying to him.

“Don’t”

Your eyes widen. Ari had to suppress the groan that fought it’s way up his throat at the sight before him. There you stood, eyes puffy from crying, lips red and swollen from nervously biting them, your teary eyes wide. Fuck that’s how Ari wanted to make you look but because of the pleasure he could no doubt provide.

“She..she..uh.. she said you only hired me because you felt sorry for me and you would never touch someone as fat as me” you whispered, face hot with anger as you pushed some of curly hair behind your ear.

As much as it pissed Ari off he couldn’t help the little happiness he felt at the fact that out of all the things he knew the women did to you, that made you react. Yes Ari knew about the way they treated you, this was his club he knew everything, hell he knew everything as he should about is his city. But Ari had wanted you to come to him, maybe it was selfish but he wanted you to need him.

“And I’m sorry I shouldn’t have reacted that way! It’s just been a lot with them! But please I’m sorry I really need this job and it pays so well I can’t afford to lose it!”

Ari stared at you while you word vomited in front of him. He was a little disappointed in himself for not thinking of it that way, that you wouldn’t cause a sense or make trouble by asking for help because of how much you needed the job.

He shook his head at you as his hand grabbed your face softly, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Shh Bunny, calm down, it’s ok”

You were too shocked by the gentle caress to really hear his words.

“That’s not true, not at all” he said.

“It’s not?” You asked not completely convinced, your doubtful eyes searching his.

“No it’s not Bunny” he answered before stepping forward and truly caging you between him and his large oak desk, his hips rolling forward so his heavy hard erection pushed into your silk covered soft belly.

“Don’t you see what you do to me Bunny?” His deep voice groaned wreaking havoc on your nervous system. You gasped at the feel of him.

Of course you suspected he was large but feeling him, it, so strong and heavy against you was something your imagination could never come up with. You could cum just from him rutting into your soft belly.

Your hand flew to his shoulder to steady yourself and the other to get balance on the desk.

“Their just jealous baby because from the moment you walked your pretty little ass in this club I hardly given any of them a glance” he whispered as his lips ghosted up your jaw to nibble your ear.

You clenched your thighs as you groaned in his ear.

“And Emma, well she’s just mad because the last time I did fuck her” he stopped before pulling back to watch your face, you had went ridged under him, your face tight with anger. He continued before you could say something.

“I called her your name while I came on her” His voice was deep and needy as he confessed to you, some how his thumb had made its way into your mouth pressing down on your tongue while he watched your face. He realized he seemed to love doing that, watching your reactions.

You were slightly angry with yourself for being so turned on. You should be mad he was talking about fucking another women, yet you weren’t. You wanted more than anything to feel what Emma felt but to know it was you that he wanted and it was you he was getting.

“If you want me to stop bunny and I will, just say the words” he told you seriously as he pulled his thumb from your mouth awaiting her answer.

As sure of himself as he was there was still that nervousness deep down in his stomach you would say no. Turn him away because of who he was and what he did. He knew you, had been watching you since you started and you were a good girl, everything he wasn’t.

But you didn’t. With your eyes locked on his, you opened your mouth licking up the underside of his thumb before pulling it into your warm mouth to suck.

And fuck did Ari think his fucking knees would buckle.

“Good girl” he replied trying to pull himself together. He was about to cum all over your stomach.

It earned him a moan around his thumb.

“Now tell me what you want Bunny because if you want me then there is no one else, I do not share” he was serious, he had wanted you from the moment he saw you. Tried to keep you away because of his line of work but he was too selfish a man, he could only hold out for so long.

You released him with a pop.

“I want you and I want everyone to know especially Emma because neither do I” you said finally showing a more confident side.

Before you knew it his mouth was covering your and he had you on the desk, your skirt lifted and thong covered ass chilled by the cool wood while your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck you couldn’t believe he kissed this good, you didn’t even want to come up for air.

At this point both your legs were up, ankles sitting on his shoulders, high heel clad feet dangling in the air. Your skirt tucked up around your waist so he could see everything.

He needed to see everything. He fucking dreamed of this many of nights.

His cock was free, long and hard. He ran the under side of it between your folds and up over your mound. Over and over again driving you wild as he collected your wetness.

“Oh fuck Ari please”

“Please what Bunny?”

“Please please fuck me!” You whined.

Your body stilled at the intrusion, he was kissing you, running his hand up and down your body, pinching nipples trying to get you to relax just a bit more, he knew he should have worked you up more but he was past that, he had no control left, you were ready enough.

“Fuck” he groaned out appreciatively once he pushed slightly into you, your gasp ringing out in his ears as your natural manicured fingernails cut into his back. A pain he welcomed. You were so tight, tighter than he could ever dream of and wet, so fucking weak. You were already leaking on his desk.

A wet dream come true.

It was a few moments and thrust later you started to relax and Ari could really work into you.

“Oh fuck” you moaned out, both hands gripped the edge of the desk while his hands dug into you full round ass cheeks, your bottom hung in the air. Ari the only thing truly keeping you suspended. He loved this position because of how much control he had.

You couldn’t even get your brain to truly function, you’d never been fucked like this. He was fucking you like his own personal toy and he was so so deep.

Because you weren’t functioning you had never noticed the call he made on his intercom, you didn’t notice the door open behind him, never noticed the blonde staring furiously at the sight before her.

Ari balls deep into the pretty little bartender she hated so much, who got special treatment from the most fear man in the city, the man Emma wanted more than anything. Hell any woman who crossed paths with the blue eyed giant wanted him.

You didn’t notice until Ari leaned forward pressing into you completely causing you to scream out. Your fingers digging into his back once more, at this angle it was too much, you didn’t understand how he could feel deeper then he already was.

There she was eyes locked on them, her face red with anger and embarrassment like you had been not to long ago at her hands while she held tissue to her bleeding nose.

Ari cursed, the tightness of you too much, your wetness dripping down his sack and thighs.

“Fuck bunny, tight wet little pussy is daddy’s favorite, you gonna let daddy come in you?” He groaned out feeling both of your ends near.

Your eyes stayed locked on Emma as your fingers gripped his short hair.

“Oh fuck yes daddy! Please come in me! Fill me up” you moaned out.

You was sure the whole club could hear over the music and you couldn’t care less.

Your body shook and your eyes roll back as that sweet feeling set her body on fire, Ari stilled after a few hard thrusts that cause his heavy desk to scrape backwards before he roared emptying himself into you.

You squealed as another orgasm slammed into you, the feel of his hot seed sending you catapulting into another one. Your eyes blurred as tears flowed from the pleasure.

When you opened your eyes Emma was gone. You both were breathing heavy when Ari used his hips to thrust you up on the desk a bit more.

“Oh fuck” you yelled out feeling completely overwhelmed and overstimulated by his softening cock still buried deep inside you.

His hands grabbed your face, blue eyes locking yours in place.

“Looks like I finally caught you bunny”.

#ari #ughari #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson one shot #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x black reader #ughwrites

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kckt88 · 5 months ago

Text

A Heartbeat Between Us VIII

Summary:

As things start to improve between Y.N and Aemond, Alys reveals her true intentions, and as Y.N turns to Aegon for support the brothers come to blows.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Swearing, Idiocy, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Violence, Fighting,

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7770

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Aemond woke with a start, his arm stretching across the bed to where Y.N. should have been, but the space beside him was cold and empty.

A sinking feeling gripped him as he sat up, glancing around the room in confusion. Throwing on his discarded clothes from the night before, he hurried down the hallway to Jack’s room. The sight of the empty cot made his heart race, panic flooding his chest.

“Y.N.?” he called out, but there was no answer.

Aemond tried to remain calm, his fingers fumbling for his phone. He rang her, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and again, the same result. Frustration and fear mounted with each passing second.

He paced the living room, running through his contacts, ringing Helaena, Daeron, and even Aegon, asking if they had seen her or heard from her. The answer was always the same: no.

His chest tightened. Had she really left him? After last night? Aemond’s gaze darted around the penthouse, and he realized that her things were still there.

The suitcase she had packed in a fury the night before was still there, laying where it had fallen on the floor during their vigorous sex session.

Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. If she hadn’t left, where was she?

Just as he contemplated going out to search for her, the sound of the door opening made him freeze. Y.N. stepped inside, pushing Jack’s pram.

Aemond rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her without a second thought.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he unbuckled Jack from the pram and lifted him into his arms, holding him close. "I was worried."

Y.N. gave him a small, tired smile. "I went to the doctor," she said, her tone matter of fact. "Since we didn’t take any precautions last night, I needed to get the morning-after pill."

Aemond’s breath hitched. "Oh," he said softly, watching as Y.N. reached into her bag and pulled out a small box.

She read the instructions on the back, popped out the pill, and swallowed it with a glass of water.

"I also decided that I’m going to start taking the contraceptive pill," she added. "Just to be safe."

Aemond nodded slowly, his gaze following her movements. He put Jack down on his play mat, the soft jingling of toys filling the room. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“About last night-” he started, his voice hesitant. “-I don’t know what came over me. If I was too rough—if I hurt you—”

Y.N. shook her head, cutting him off. "Don’t apologize," she said softly. “I liked it.”

Her words stirred something inside him, but Aemond knew there was more to say, more to confront. He couldn’t keep avoiding it. Turning to face her fully, he took a deep breath.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice steady but serious. "About us."

Y.N. finished her water and leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest. She nodded, her expression unreadable. Aemond took a step closer.

“For a start,” he continued, “-There is no us. But don’t you think there should be?”

Y.N. hesitated for a moment, chewing her lip as she considered his words. "I guess things weren’t working out the way they were."

“No, they weren’t,” Aemond agreed. “But we already have a child. We live together, we have sex and we love each other Why can’t we explore a relationship? Properly.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with scepticism. "What about Alys?"

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, there’s nothing there with her. Not anymore. I know I shouldn’t have let her in, but I feel like I owe her-for the way things ended."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, clearly still not convinced. "I don’t trust her, Aemond. Not one bit."

“I know you don’t like her,” he replied. “But I promise, it’s just business. There’s nothing else between us.”

Y.N. looked at him, her gaze searching his face for the truth. “Is this really what you want?” she asked quietly. “To be with me?”

Aemond stepped forward, his eye never leaving hers. “It is. I’ve been a fool to wait this long to ask you.”

She chuckled lightly, some of the tension easing between them. "Why did you wait?" she teased, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Aemond smirked, rolling his eye. "Fear, mostly. Fear that you didn’t feel the same way. Fear of ruining what we had."

Y.N. let out a soft laugh. “If you really mean it-I want you to ask me properly.”

Aemond’s smirk widened, and he crossed his arms. “So, regularly sticking you with my cock isn’t asking properly?”

She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, it’s not the same thing."

He let out a deep breath, taking her hand in his. “Y.N.,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Y.N. smiled, a bright, genuine smile that lit up her whole face. “Yes,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “I will be your girlfriend.”

Aemond grinned, his heart swelling with joy as he leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with more passion.

When they finally pulled apart, Y.N. excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Aemond standing there, his mind racing with relief and happiness.

Finally, she was his.

Aemond sat with Aegon and Daeron at their usual table in the club, the neon lights casting a soft glow over them.

The atmosphere was buzzing, and as they ordered their drinks, Daeron’s eyes zeroed in on the mark on Aemond's neck. He sniggered, pointing at it with a raised eyebrow.

"Who's responsible for that?" Daeron asked, barely hiding his smirk.

Aegon snorted, taking a sip of his beer. "Alys?"

Aemond glared at him. "Absolutely not. It was my girlfriend."

Aegon’s laugh echoed over the thumping music. “So, you finally grew some balls and asked Y.N. out?”

Aemond scowled at him but didn’t deny it, which only made Aegon laugh harder.

Daeron shook his head in amusement. “About time. By the way, did you ever find out where she went the other day? You were freaking out."

Aemond sighed, swirling his whiskey. "She went to the doctor. Got the morning-after pill."

Aegon rolled his eyes dramatically. "Seriously, do you have some kind of aversion to condoms or what?"

"My mind was on other things at the time,” Aemond muttered defensively, taking a long drink. “But she’s on the pill now.”

Daeron chuckled. “At least she’s taking responsibility.”

Aemond hummed in agreement before dropping a bombshell. “Alys stopped by the penthouse.”

Aegon nearly choked on his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You what? You let her in? Are you an idiot?”

Daeron looked equally stunned. “What were you thinking?”

“I-feel like I owe her,” Aemond admitted, though his voice lacked conviction.

“For what?” Aegon demanded.

Aemond leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly “-For cheating on her”

Aegon scoffed “The two of you were living completely separate lives before you dipped your wick in Y.N”

“Maybe I still feel like I owe her something for the way things ended”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Please. Alys was in the relationship for herself, and you know it.”

Aemond shook his head, staring into his glass. “Maybe toward the end, but at the beginning-”

Daeron cut him off. “Beginning, middle, or end—it’s irrelevant now. You don’t owe Alys a damn thing.”

Aegon raised his beer. “Here, here. Come on, brother. Drink up—we’re celebrating tonight!”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

Aegon grinned wide. “You finally getting the girl.”

Later that night, after far too many drinks, Aemond stumbled down the hallway to his penthouse.

His fingers fumbled with the key, and in his drunken state, he cursed under his breath.

"Who's moving this damned lock?" he groaned, leaning against the door for support.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Aemond went flying into the penthouse, landing ungracefully on the floor.

He blinked up at Y.N., who stood above him, arms crossed but an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Hello,” he slurred, sprawled on the floor.

Y.N. knelt down, a mix of amusement and concern on her face. “Did you have a good night?”

Aemond clumsily tried to get to his knees, swaying slightly. “I had a few beers,” he mumbled.

Y.N. quirked an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve had more than a few,” she remarked, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Aemond groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I’m bit tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Y.N. said, helping him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, and she all but dragged him towards the bedroom.

On the way, Aemond suddenly stopped, looking serious. “I have a girlfriend,” he said, as if making a grand declaration.

Y.N. stifled a laugh. “I’m sure your girlfriend will understand.”

Aemond looked up at her, his drunken expression deadly serious. “My girlfriend is my girlfriend, and she had a baby-my baby-”

“How nice,” Y.N. laughed, guiding him to the edge of the bed. She sat him down and began pulling off his shoes and socks.

As she worked, Aemond’s eye fluttered, his head lolling. “You smell nice,” he murmured, slurring slightly.

Y.N. laughed again, shaking her head as she took off his coat and removed his eyepatch. She was careful, knowing how vulnerable he felt without it.

Aemond squinted up at her. “Are you trying to get me naked?” he asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

Y.N. rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to get you comfortable.”

Aemond’s hands found their way to her waist, his forehead resting against her stomach as he clung to her. “I love you,” he mumbled, his voice softer now. “I do. So much. Please don’t leave me.”

Her heart clenched at his words. “I’m not leaving. Now, come on—lie down and go to sleep.”

With her gentle urging, Aemond finally lay back against the pillows, his body relaxing almost instantly. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold, his breathing deep and steady.

Y.N. stood there for a moment, watching him sleep, her hand brushing through his hair. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile.

Aemond woke up the next morning face down, groaning at the pounding in his skull.

His mouth felt like sandpaper, and the faint light filtering through the curtains only worsened his throbbing headache.

He groaned and muttered to himself, "Never drinking again."

Slowly, he pushed himself up, feeling like every bone in his body ached from his night of excess. Shakily, he stood and stumbled toward the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his dishevelled reflection.

His hair was a mess, and the faint smell of stale alcohol clung to his skin. “Gods, I reek,” he muttered, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the shower.

The hot water didn’t do much to ease his hangover, but at least it helped him feel a little more human. After drying off, he threw on a clean shirt and sweatpants before heading to the kitchen, still rubbing his temples.

When he entered the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon hit him, making his stomach growl loudly. Y.N. stood at the stove, flipping over sausages and eggs, while a platter of crispy bacon sat on the counter.

“What's all this?” Aemond asked, his voice hoarse from last night.

Y.N. looked over her shoulder with a small smile. “Bacon, eggs, sausages—best hangover cure there is.”

Aemond could practically taste the food already, his stomach growling in anticipation. “You're a lifesaver.”

Before sitting down, he wandered into the living room to check on Jack. His son was on his playmat, gurgling happily and kicking his legs in the air.

Aemond’s heart softened instantly as he crouched down, brushing his hand over Jack’s soft hair. "Good morning, little man," he murmured.

Y.N.’s voice called from the kitchen. “Aemond, come sit down. Food’s ready.”

Reluctantly leaving Jack, Aemond joined her at the table and sat down. The plate in front of him was piled with food—golden eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, sausages cooked to perfection.

He didn’t waste time, diving in hungrily. Every bite seemed to ease the ache in his head a little more.

After finishing his breakfast, Y.N. handed him a glass of water and some painkillers. "Thought you might need these," she said with a teasing smile.

Aemond sighed in relief, taking the painkillers gratefully. “You’re a saint,” he muttered, washing them down.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laziness. Aemond spent most of it sprawled out on the sofa, watching Jack play nearby, occasionally dozing off.

At one point, he even found himself napping with Jack snuggled up against him on the couch, the baby’s soft breaths helping him relax despite his headache.

But his peaceful nap was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, startling him awake. Jack stirred but didn’t cry, and Aemond gently laid him back on the playmat before sitting up groggily.

Y.N. was already answering the door when two men entered, their arms laden with large boxes, making quite a racket as they brought them inside.

Y.N. signed for the delivery, thanking them before they left. She turned toward the boxes with a curious look, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached them.

"What’s all this?" Aemond asked, still feeling groggy as he watched her tear open the packaging.

“It’s a delivery from the museum,” Y.N. explained, pulling away the bubble wrap to reveal two statues inside, both looking worse for wear. The stone was chipped in several places, and the detail on their surfaces was faded and worn down.

Aemond stepped closer, peering at the statues. “Think you can fix them?”

Y.N. smiled confidently, her fingers running over the smooth, cold surface of one of the statues. “Absolutely. They’ve seen better days, but I’ve handled worse. I’ll have them looking good as new soon.”

Aemond nodded, impressed as always with her skill. He watched her work for a moment, feeling a surge of pride in her abilities. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

Y.N. looked up from the statue, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said quietly before turning back to her workbench.

For the next couple of months, Y.N. worked diligently on the two statues that had been delivered from the museum.

She had printed pictures of what the statues originally looked like and pinned them to the walls of her workspace for reference.

Each day was a careful, deliberate process—she spent hours gently cleaning the weathered stone, ensuring that every inch was properly prepped before moving on to repairs.

When the cleaning was complete, Y.N. mixed plaster to the perfect consistency, using it to patch up the chips and cracks that marred the statues.

She took her time, delicately applying the mixture before using a fine-grain sandpaper to smooth out any unevenness. Every touch required precision, and the smallest mistake could ruin weeks of progress.

After the repairs were done, she moved on to the final stages: painting and applying a special wax that not only enhanced the statues' details but also provided an extra layer of protection.

It was a painstakingly slow process, but Y.N. found it rewarding. Still, the work had taken longer than anticipated due to balancing her time between the restoration and caring for Jack.

Once the statues were fully restored, they were carefully boxed up in layers of protective material and sent back to the museum.

As much as Y.N. loved her work, she felt a sense of relief when the project was completed. She had poured so much energy into the restoration that, despite her passion, it left her feeling drained.

But knowing that she had done justice to the pieces, especially with Jack in tow, made the reward even sweeter.

One afternoon, feeling a little freer after finishing the statues, Y.N. decided to surprise Aemond at work.

She stopped by a local café to grab them some dinner and pushed Jack in his pram as she made her way to Targaryen Inc.

As she entered the sleek lobby, she was startled to hear someone call her name. She turned to see Jacaerys waving at her from across the room.

They hadn’t seen each other since the heated argument in the café months ago, and Y.N. hesitated for a moment before waving back.

Jace quickly crossed the room to meet her. "Hey," he said, a bit of uncertainty in his voice. "How have you been?"

Y.N. smiled, adjusting her grip on Jack's pram. "I've been fine. You?"

Jace glanced down at Jack, his expression softening. "Wow, he really looks like Aemond."

Y.N. smiled fondly at her son. "Yeah, he does."

After a beat, Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look, I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you in the café. I was angry, and I lashed out. But I shouldn’t have said those things."

Y.N. took a deep breath, remembering how hurtful that encounter had been.

But seeing Jace now, visibly regretful, she nodded. "It’s okay. I probably should have told you from the start that Aemond was Jack’s father. I understand why you were upset."

Jace gave her a sad smile. "How are things with my uncle? My mother said you two are dating now."

Y.N. felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of Aemond. "They’re good. I know we did things a little backward—baby first, then the relationship—but we’re happy."

Jace nodded, but his smile was tinged with sadness. "I'm glad to hear that," he said quietly.

For a few moments, they stood there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

Then Jace cleared his throat and glanced at the time. "I should get going. I told my mother I'd only be five minutes."

Y.N. smiled. "Of course. It was nice seeing you, Jace."

He hesitated for a second, then quickly stepped forward and hugged her.

It was brief but sincere. "Take care, Y.N.," he said as he pulled away, rushing off before either of them could dwell on the moment.

Y.N. watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of relief and nostalgia. She took a deep breath, then turned back toward the lift.

Pressing the button, she smiled at Jack, ready to surprise Aemond with their impromptu visit.

Y.N. stepped out of the lift, pushing Jack's pram ahead of her, feeling a surge of excitement at the idea of surprising Aemond.

The office was quiet, and she noticed Aemond’s assistant wasn’t at her desk.

Smiling down at Jack, who gave her a gummy grin in response, she whispered, “Let’s surprise Daddy, shall we?”

She quietly pushed open the door to Aemond’s office, but the sight that greeted her made her stop in her tracks.

Alys was sitting close to Aemond on the leather sofa.

Aemond shot up from his seat the moment he saw Y.N. walk in, looking slightly startled.

"Y.N.," he said, with a forced smile, quickly crossing the room to kiss her head. "This is a nice surprise."

Y.N. fought the wave of anger surging through her but forced a smile. "I was taking a walk with Jack," she said, her voice tight, "and thought I’d bring you something for dinner since you've been working hard lately."

Aemond’s face softened. "That was thoughtful of you," he said, reaching into the pram to lift Jack out. He held his son close, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Daddy's missed you.”

Y.N. watched, her stomach churning as Alys rose gracefully from the sofa and walked over to stand beside Aemond.

"He’s gotten bigger-" Alys said with a sweet smile, looking at Jack. "Can I hold him?"

"No," Y.N. snapped, before she could stop herself. She quickly reached for Jack, putting him back into the pram and turning him away from Alys.

There was a tension in the air that no one could ignore as Alys stepped back, her smirk barely hidden.

Y.N. turned to Aemond, her voice sharp. "What is she doing here?"

Aemond leaned in close, whispering hurriedly, "I didn’t know she was coming. She just turned up."

Y.N. narrowed her eyes, her anger boiling over. "Then you should’ve thrown her old arse out."

Aemond sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just helping her get established with her business. That’s all."

Y.N. scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only business she’s after is in your pants."

"You're being ridiculous," Aemond muttered, trying to keep his voice low.

Y.N. caught a glimpse of Alys standing by the desk, the smug smirk on her face as if she were relishing the tension in the room.

That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a second thought, Y.N. grabbed the bag of food she had brought for Aemond and threw it at him.

The containers hit his chest and fell to the floor, spilling sandwiches and chips across the carpet.

“Here,” she spat, her voice seething with anger. “I hope you both fucking choke”

Ignoring Aemond’s frantic calls of her name, she turned on her heel, pushing Jack’s pram out of the office as fast as she could, her heart pounding with fury.

Aemond stood in the middle of his office, wiping the food off his shirt with quick, agitated movements.

His eye flicked to the mess on the floor, the sandwiches and chips scattered across the carpet. Frustration gnawed at him, but before he could act on it, Alys approached, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Aemond—” she began, her tone soft, but he immediately snatched his arm away, his patience frayed.

"Don't," he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. He moved quickly to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, already making his way toward the door.

Alys’s voice followed him, laced with confusion—or perhaps something more manipulative. "Where are you going?"

"After Y.N.," Aemond responded, his tone clipped. "I need to talk to her. I need to explain."

"Explain what?" Alys asked, her voice turning smug. "We were only talking."

Aemond halted, turning to face her fully, his eye narrowing with irritation.

"What are you even doing here, Alys? The clients I recommended to you are more than capable of keeping you busy. You don’t need my help anymore."

Alys smirked, a dangerous glint in her eye. "You’re right. I don’t need your help," she admitted, stepping closer. "I never really did"

Aemond’s frustration shifted into suspicion. His voice turned demanding. "What do you want, Alys?"

She gave him a slow, calculated smile. "I want you."

Aemond froze, his gaze hardening. "What?"

"I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you," Alys said, her voice sultry, as she moved closer to him, her hands grazing his chest.

“I’m not interested” snapped Aemond.

"I remember when you used to be interested."

Aemond immediately removed her hands from him. "That was then," he said firmly, stepping back. "This is now."

Alys wasn’t deterred. She leaned in, trying to kiss him, but Aemond pushed her away, more forcefully this time.

"I just want it to be the way it was," she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

"It will never be the way it was," Aemond said through clenched teeth, his temper rising. He couldn’t believe she had the nerve to push this after everything. "It’s over, Alys."

Still, Alys persisted. "We could be good together again, you know that. You felt it once—"

"Enough!" Aemond shouted, his voice booming with frustration. "Get it through your head—I don’t fucking want you. What we had is over." His words cut like a knife, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Alys’s face twisted in anger. "So, you're choosing Y.N over me?"

"Yes," Aemond said, his voice steady and final. "I choose her. I will always choose her. Because I love her"

There was no hesitation in his answer, and that seemed to anger Alys further. She glared at him, her face contorting with bitter jealousy.

"Fine," she said, grabbing her coat with sharp, angry movements. "But that’s too bad. We could’ve had something special."

Aemond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I already have something special with Y.N. and Jack."

Alys moved toward the door, her expression icy. Just before she left, she turned to him, her voice low and venomous. "Not anymore, you don’t."

With that, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Aemond standing alone in his office, her final words lingering like a dark cloud.

As Y.N rushed out of Targaryen Inc, her vision blurred by tears, she barely noticed the world around her. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of betrayal.

She had wanted to surprise Aemond with something thoughtful, but instead, she’d walked into a scene that made her stomach turn. Alys, sitting close to him—too close. Her heart ached, and all she wanted was to escape.

By the time she reached the penthouse, Y.N was shaking. She hastily left a note and packed a bag for herself and Jack, not entirely sure where she was going, but desperate to leave.

With Jack bundled up and strapped into his pram, she left the penthouse, wandering the city streets. She hopped onto a bus without thinking, letting the rhythmic rocking carry her away from her thoughts, until she stood before a familiar black door.

The sound of music leaked through the walls, and she hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell.

The music paused, and moments later, the door swung open to reveal Aegon, shirtless and slightly dishevelled, clearly caught off guard.

“Y.N.,” he said, surprised to see her standing there.

Behind him, a girl lounged lazily on the sofa, eyeing Y.N. with vague curiosity.

Embarrassed and feeling out of place, Y.N. tearfully apologized, backing away. "I’m sorry for disturbing you. I should go—"

Aegon quickly stepped forward, gently catching her arm. "Hey, wait—what’s wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly pulled on a T-shirt.

"It doesn’t matter," Y.N. muttered, tears threatening to spill again.

"It does matter," Aegon insisted, his voice firm yet kind. He turned to the girl on the sofa, gesturing toward the door. “You need to leave.”

The girl huffed, gathering her clothes and glaring at Y.N. as she passed by.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Y.N. broke down, the sobs she had been holding back finally spilling out.

Aegon didn’t hesitate—he pulled her into a comforting hug, hushing her softly as she cried into his chest.

“What happened?” he asked gently, rubbing her back as she tried to calm down.

Y.N. took a shaky breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I went to surprise Aemond at work-and Alys was there.” Her voice broke, and Aegon cursed under his breath.

“That fucking idiot,” Aegon muttered, holding her tighter. He didn’t press her for more details, just let her cry it out until the storm of emotions passed.

“Can Jack and I stay here tonight?” Y.N. asked after a moment, her voice soft and uncertain. “I don’t want to go back. But he’ll come looking for me-”

Aegon quickly nodded. “Of course, you can stay. Don’t worry about him. If he comes round here, I’ll tell him you’re not here. And when Daeron gets home from work, I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut, too.”

Y.N. managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. “Thank you-and I’m sorry, again. I feel like I’m imposing.”

Aegon shook his head, giving her a comforting smile. “Stop apologizing. You’re not the one in the wrong—Aemond is. What the hell is he thinking?”

Just then, Jack’s soft cries filled the room, and Aegon released Y.N. so she could tend to him. She reached into the pram, but Aegon quickly offered to take the baby. “Here, let me.”

Y.N. handed Jack over, and Aegon rocked him gently, his touch surprisingly tender. “My brother needs to open his eye and see that harpy for who she really is,” Aegon muttered, rolling his eyes.

Y.N. let out a small laugh, despite herself. “You’re not wrong there.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’m serious. I’ve never liked her, and you know if I don’t like a woman, that’s a red flag. I mean, I love the ladies.”

Y.N. laughed again, this time a little more genuinely. “I know. Especially the married ones.”

Aegon shrugged with a playful smirk. “Of course. But Alys-she’s different. In all honesty I never really liked looking directly at her.”

“She’s not Medusa” Y.N. said, shaking her head.

“She might as well be,” Aegon shot back with a mock shiver.

After a few more moments, Aegon smiled and said, “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll sort us something to eat.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t,” Aegon admitted with a grin. “I’m ordering takeout. Will pizza be okay?”

Y.N. nodded, grateful to be here in this moment, with someone who had her back when she needed it most.

Y.N gently bathed Jack in Aegon’s bathroom, the warm water soothing her nerves as much as it did Jack’s.

He splashed playfully, his little hands reaching for her as she carefully washed him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness in her chest.

After drying him off, she dressed him in his soft, blue pyjamas, his eyes beginning to droop as she cradled him in her arms. She fed him, rocking slowly, humming a quiet tune until his soft, rhythmic breathing told her he had drifted off to sleep.

She laid him in the middle of Aegon’s bed, arranging pillows around him carefully, making sure he was safe and comfortable.

The door remained slightly ajar, just enough for her to hear him in case he woke up. Stepping back into the living room, she felt a pang of guilt.

"I feel terrible for kicking you out of your own bed," Y.N. said, biting her lip.

Aegon waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry about it. I offered. Besides, I’m not exactly known for my chivalry—this is a rare moment for me, let’s not ruin it."

Y.N. chuckled weakly but appreciated the levity. She sank onto the couch, pulling out her phone.

Her breath hitched as she saw the screen flooded with notifications—30 missed calls from Aemond, and numerous text messages.

She scrolled through them, her heart twisting at the range of emotions. Messages declaring his undying love, apologizing profusely, followed by angry ones accusing her of taking Jack from him without any right.

The whirlwind of his emotions matched her own confusion.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Daeron asked, sitting down beside her.

Y.N. sighed, putting the phone down. "I don’t know. I really don’t. Part of me wants to talk to him, but after what happened today, I don’t even know where to start."

"You can stay here as long as you need," Daeron reassured her. "But-you know Aemond’s going to find out eventually that we’ve lied to him. And when he does, he won’t be happy."

Y.N. rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on her. "I’m sorry to drag you both into this. I just needed to get away, and I didn’t know where else to go."

Aegon scoffed, lounging on the other end of the couch. "Screw him. We’ve all tried telling him about that bitch, but noooo-Aemond thinks he knows better. Now look where we are."

Daeron, ever the peacemaker, leaned forward. "Not to defend Aemond too much, but maybe he thought he was helping Alys out of some twisted sense of guilt—like making up for cheating on her."

Aegon rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "The guy’s an idiot. He’s letting this mess get in the way of what really matters”

Y.N. suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood up "I’m going to bed," she murmured, offering them both a tired smile. "Goodnight."

“Night-” said Aegon and Daeron in unison.

Y.N. walked down the hallway, her heart heavy. She peeked into the bedroom, watching Jack sleep peacefully, oblivious to the storm swirling around them.

As she lay down beside him, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold everything together for just a little while longer.

The next morning, Y.N. woke early, fed Jack, and packed their things. As she stood by the door, she turned to Aegon and Daeron, offering a grateful smile.

"Thank you, both of you, for letting us stay over. But I think it’s time we head back to the penthouse. I’m going to take Jack for a walk in the park first, clear my head before I see Aemond."

Aegon, still lounging lazily in his chair, got up and walked over to her, pulling her into a hug. "You’re always welcome here, you know that" he said, giving her a wink. "But if you ever come back, I won’t give up my bed again. We’ll just have to share."

Daeron rolled his eyes. "Ignore him and regardless of what happens, we’ll still be there for you and Jack”

Y.N. gave a soft laugh and nodded. "Thanks again, really." She checked the straps in Jack’s pram and then wheeled it towards the door. "Goodbye, and take care."

As she left, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Aegon and Daeron in the apartment.

Not long after, Daeron furrowed his brow and turned to Aegon. "Oh no, she forgot one of Jack’s toys."

Aegon picked up the small plush from the table, examining it.

"What the hell is this thing?" he muttered, turning the soft rabbit-like toy over in his hands. The ears crinkled when he squeezed them, making an odd sound.

"I don’t know," Daeron shrugged. "Right, I’ve gotta head to work. You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Aegon waved, still scrutinizing the toy as if it held the answers to life. "See you later."

Just as Daeron grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, it swung open again—this time revealing Aemond, standing in the doorway.

His eye narrowed when he saw Jack’s toy in Aegon’s hand.

Aegon tried to hide it behind his back, but it was too late.

"Where did you get that?" Aemond asked, his voice tight.

Aegon stuttered, "Well, you see—"

"Was Y.N. and Jack here?" Aemond cut him off, his tone dark.

Aegon sighed. "Yeah, they were, but they left a little while ago. She didn’t know where else to go."

Aemond's expression turned furious. "When I rang you last night and asked if you'd seen her, and you said no—was she here?"

Aegon swallowed, glancing at the floor. "Yes, she was here. She slept in my bed—"

That was all Aemond needed to hear. Without warning, he punched Aegon in the face.

Aegon stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor, clutching his nose as blood began to flow.

"Did you fuck her?" Aemond bellowed, his voice full of rage.

Aegon groaned, sitting up slowly, blood dripping between his fingers. "No! I stayed on the sofa, you fucking arsehole-"

Aemond began pacing around the apartment, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

Aegon stood up, wincing as he gingerly touched his nose. He grabbed a nearby towel, pressing it to his face.

"You have no right to be angry," Aegon spat. "You’re the one who’s been hanging around with your bitch of an ex."

Aemond stopped pacing, his face tightening. "I was just trying to make up for what I did. But it was a mistake—a massive one. Alys-she tried to kiss me."

Aegon’s expression hardened, and without a second thought, he punched Aemond in the mouth.

Aemond stumbled back, stunned, as blood began to trickle from his lip.

"You moron," Aegon growled. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Aemond wiped the blood from his mouth, still in shock from Aegon’s punch. "She tried to kiss me, and I pushed her away. I didn’t let it happen."

Aegon shook his head, disappointment clear on his face as he went to the freezer to grab some ice.

"You’re such an idiot. I’ve been telling you for years what she’s like"

Aemond stood there, blood staining his lips. "I know," he said quietly. "I know now that it was all a manipulation. She didn’t need my help with her business. She just—"

"—wanted to get back into your pants," Aegon finished for him. He shook his head, pressing the towel full of ice cubes against his bruised nose. "You only lost one eye, brother. How could you be so blind?"

Aemond’s shoulders slumped as he sat down heavily on the edge of the couch. "I’m an idiot ok" he admitted, voice hoarse. "I let her in when I should’ve known better."

"You’re damn right you’re an idiot," Aegon said with a bitter laugh. "You let that old bint back into your life when we all tried to warn you. And now, you’ve potentially lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you all because of your own stupidity."

Aemond closed his eye, running his hands through his hair again. He knew Aegon was right. And now, he didn’t know how to fix it.

As Aemond sat on the couch, staring down at the toy he had snatched from Aegon’s hand, a heavy silence settled between them.

Aegon, still pressing the towel full of ice to his swollen nose, finally broke the quiet.

"You know, I’m jealous of you," Aegon muttered, his voice low but steady.

Aemond frowned and looked up. "Jealous? Of me? Why?"

Aegon let out a tired chuckle. "Because of Y.N."

Aemond's expression darkened, and his jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"

Aegon raised his free hand, waving off his brother’s suspicions. "No-I’m not into her like that. It's the way she loves you, Aemond." He looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "The way she looks at you-it’s something else. I’d give anything for a woman to look at me the way she looks at you. There’s this—" He struggled to find the right words, "—devotion in her eyes. And she brings out the best in you, even if you’re too blind to see it."

Aemond’s face softened slightly, and he allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "Maybe if you stopped chasing unavailable women, you'd find someone like that."

Aegon huffed a laugh. "Yeah, maybe. I was actually trying to get with someone last night, if you must know. But then Y.N. came over and interrupted." He shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"And you helped her instead," Aemond remarked, his tone shifting to something more serious.

"Of course I did," Aegon said, looking at his brother with a surprising sincerity. "I like her—no, not in that way. But I wanted to make sure both her and Jack were safe”.

Aemond sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you, Aegon."

Aegon nodded, leaning back against the counter. "You’re welcome. But I don’t care what you have to do. You better make it up to her. She’s good for you, Aemond. You two belong together. Don’t be the fool who throws it all away."

Aemond stood, taking a deep breath. "You’re right. I need to fix this." He paused, glancing at the door.

"Yeah," Aegon replied, standing straighter. "She mentioned she was taking Jack for a walk in the park and then heading back to the penthouse”.

Aemond started towards the door, but Aegon called out to him. "Hey, one more thing."

Aemond stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Aegon smirked, his usual playful self returning. "You should ask her to marry you."

Aemond froze for a moment, considering the weight of Aegon’s words.

Slowly, he nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe I will."

Aegon grinned, his smirk widening into a mischievous grin. "Because then she’d definitely shag me."

Aemond took a deep breath before he charged at his brother. Aegon dodged out of the way, laughing loudly as Aemond began chasing him around the table.

"You little—!" Aemond shouted, but despite his frustration, there was a smile creeping onto his face as Aegon kept laughing, the tension between the brothers momentarily broken by their banter.

"Too slow!" Aegon called out, still running, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

For just a moment, the heaviness that had hung over them lifted, and despite the mess Aemond needed to fix, he felt a flicker of hope. He wasn’t going to let Y.N. slip away—no matter what it took.

Aemond wandered through the quiet streets, his mind racing. He desperately wanted to see Y.N. and Jack, to hold them both close and promise he would never let his stupidity come between them again.

But he knew he had to give her time—to get back to the penthouse, to settle Jack, and most of all, to calm down. As much as he wanted to rush to her side, he knew that right now, patience was key.

She was the love of his life, and the thought that he might have jeopardized everything made his chest tighten.

How had he let it get this far? It was easy to blame Alys, to paint her as the villain in his mind, but deep down, Aemond knew the truth—it was his own fault.

His misguided sense of duty, his foolish belief that he could make up for his past mistakes by helping her, had led him down this path. He should have left the past buried.

As soon as Alys had reached out, he should have told her to get lost. Instead, he had let her manipulate him, and now Y.N. and Jack were suffering the consequences.

He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he walked. Alys’s motives were clear from the beginning, and he cursed himself for not seeing them.

But the damage had been done. Now, all he could do was hope—pray, even—that Y.N. would give him the chance to make things right.

He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone, and the thought of losing her, of losing their life together, sent a sharp pain through his chest.

As he rounded a corner, his steps slowed when he came to a stop in front of a jewellery shop. His eye caught on the glittering rings displayed in the window, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eye and imagine.

He pictured Y.N. in a beautiful wedding dress, walking towards him with that radiant smile she always wore when she looked at him. His hand reaching for hers as they exchanged vows, their kiss sealing their promises as they became husband and wife.

But was that future even possible now? Or had he ruined it beyond repair?

Aemond let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his silver hair. He had thought about proposing to her before, but now-was it even right to consider it?

Would she still want a life with him after everything that had happened? After the hurt he had caused?

He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing—he had to try. He couldn’t give up on them, not when he loved her with every fibre of his being.

Aemond stepped into the penthouse, his heart immediately dropping at the sight of a suitcase by the front door. Jack was fast asleep in his pram, his small chest rising and falling peacefully.

Aemond's gaze shifted from his son to Y.N., who sat on the sofa, nervously fiddling with her fingers, her face pale and her eyes distant.

His voice cracked as he asked, "Are you leaving me?"

Y.N. looked up at him, her expression torn. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I think it's for the best”.

The words pierced through him like a blade, and Aemond felt his knees weaken. In an instant, he was in front of her, kneeling on the floor with his head resting in her lap, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

"Please don’t leave me," he choked out, his voice thick with desperation. "I’m so sorry, Y.N. I thought I owed it to Alys, after everything that happened, but I was wrong. I see that now. I made a terrible mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, please don’t go."

Y.N. hesitated, her hands trembling as she slowly stroked his hair. But then, gently, she removed him from her lap and stood up, forcing a shaky breath as she wiped her eyes.

"I need to think, Aemond. I need to figure out what’s best for me and for Jack."

Aemond rose to his feet, his desperation mounting as he cupped her face in his hands, peppering soft, frantic kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. "I love you," he whispered, again and again between kisses. "I love you more than anything. Please, just—just stay. Let’s work this out."

Y.N. closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his for a moment as the pain of the situation overwhelmed her.

"I love you too, Aemond," she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. "But I need space. I need to think about what I really want”

Aemond’s breath hitched, but he nodded, knowing he couldn’t push her any further. He backed away slightly, his eye red and pained.

He turned to Jack, still peacefully sleeping in his pram, and pressed a tender kiss to his son’s forehead.

"Be good for your mummy," he whispered softly, brushing a finger over Jack’s tiny hand.

With that, Aemond walked to the door and held it open, his heart breaking with every passing second.

Y.N. pushed the pram through the door and glanced back at him one last time, her suitcase in hand, her eyes filled with sadness and uncertainty.

“Goodbye Aemond-”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Aemond collapsed against it, sliding down to the floor until he was sitting with his back against the wood.

His head fell into his hands as the weight of it all came crashing down. Silent sobs wracked his body.

He had lost them both—And it was his own fault.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut

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ratcatcher0325 · 4 months ago

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #33)

Chapter #33. Alexander is in for some prime time flustering. Will he keep his cool or lose his grip?

Previous: Chapter #32

Next: Chapter #34

Word Count: 3,835 Read Time: Approx. 30 mins

CW: Physical intimacy

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #33: Between a Rock and a Soft Place

[Alexander’s POV]

She’d… kissed… me. Her lips left behind a soft, lingering warmth from my cranium to my clavicle. She’d simply picked me up and pulled me in and… kissed me.

I laid there, forcing myself to stay still long enough to convince her I was sleeping. I kept from moving a muscle, even as my mind raced at breakneck speed, and my heart thundered away against my ribs. Why did my face feel so hot?

Once the enclosure of her hand went slack, I allowed myself the freedom of opening my eyes.

I was lying with my back pressed into her palm, my head resting on the pad of a finger, through which I could feel and hear the gigantic, steady thrum of her pulse. There was no escaping her presence: her smell, her warmth, the tide of her breathing. Her hand, while just a small part of her, was all encompassing, fully surrounding my entire body.

I peered up at the woman’s face before me, the slow, rhythmic exhales of her sleepy breathing were just powerful enough at this distance, for each puff of warm air to make the hair on my arms stand up. Her lips, full, soft, and warm were parted just slightly as she slept, blissfully unaware of my eyes sizing up every part and parcel of her face.

Since the overcast afternoon sun had yet to wane, I had plenty of light to see the rosy pink that accompanied her cheeks, the slight sun damage that dappled the skin across the bridge of her nose, and the incredible length and curl of her thick, dark eyelashes. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder and down to the surface of the mattress on the far side and spread all over the pillow and across the arm that reached out to me.

How did it get to be this way? I’d gone from being newly discovered, inside of her pantry, writhing and shouting at her, held captive in her palm, to… this.

Dare I call it tranquility? I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

The only feeling that had ever come close was how I’d felt when, as a child, I’d snatched away a few blissful hours in the dead of night to read my favorite books. This ritual had given me a moment’s peace from my frightening reality, where I was taken on thrilling adventures, transported to distant worlds and formed bonds with characters I adored, made of nothing at all but the clever, written word. I’d found an escape from my fears and limitations, all while I sat alone in my little corner of a bookshelf in the corner of a room on the corner of a street who’s name I never learned.

I felt… safe here. Just as I had for all those years, nestled between the pages of a portal to a better world than this.

But here, now, replacing ink and paper with flesh and bone, I felt safer than I’d ever felt in my life. How was such a thing even possible, when I was this close to a human being?

Heat rose in my face, while nestled inside her hand, the air around me becoming insufferably hot.

When was the last time I’d let her hold me while we slept? When I’d been compromised after surgery? My memory of that ordeal was a thick fog, I could hardly remember up from down, let alone any concrete details from that time.

I felt a rush of heat at the tips of my ears when I recalled her accusations of my rather uncharacteristic behavior while under the influence of powerful anesthesia. How utterly uncouth.

The rhythm of her pulse, steady as a drum, reminded me of some kind of organic tide, a thrumming exchange of life on a scale I struggled to truly comprehend. What was it like to belong to the world like she did? To be born big enough to be blissfully unaware of the life-threatening dangers I faced on a daily basis?

I thought back over my journey to arrive here, to this tranquil moment, on the massive pillow of an even more massive bed, tucked gently into the hand of someone I’d learned to, at least somewhat, tolerate.

Memories, laden with the thick smell of mahogany and leather, the ticking of an old Bavarian clock, and the garish light of a gold and green glass lamp came flooding back. I could practically feel the familiar ache in my chest from the seemingly endless hours of fear and loneliness. The equally endless periods of being tossed in some box or drawer when my presence was deemed inconvenient, flooded back to me in crisp detail. My muscles ached in a sort of phantom pain remembering the constant vigilance I’d had to maintain to keep from being plucked up and choked or dropped or flicked or knocked to the ground.

How vulnerable I’d been in the hands of children, no less, who had come so dangerously close to killing me simply for the twisted joy of the act! Nearly burning me to a crisp in their raging fireplace as if I, in all my sentience, mattered no more to them than my bundle of papers they’d turned to ash. And upon escaping the snapping jaws of a terrifying beast, how massive and threatening every sharp blade of grass, every knotted root, and cracked pavement square was when I was thrust out of doors, forced to fend for myself.

It was only in that first breathtaking moment of true solitude that I’d realized just how vulnerable I truly was.

I recalled, with a pang in my chest, the nightmarish ordeal of coming within an inch or so of a car’s massive wheel well and the spine tingling realization of having evaded death by a hair’s breadth of luck. I could never forget the adrenaline flooding my system as I faced the danger of a housecat and the harrowing realization of being discovered by a creature much like myself, yet terrifyingly large, with messy curls, and golden-green eyes, who could now dictate the course of the rest of my life with only minimal pressure from her finger and thumb, if she so chose.

And then, there was the horror of surgery and the thoroughly damaging torture that had come before it.

Not to mention, the ache in my heart that had flared up again in Charles’s presence, wanting with every fiber of my being to just be seen by others for my potential and not my preciousness as some sort of fragile, living toy.

My throat tightened as my brow knit. These feelings, boiling beneath the surface, were threatening to overwhelm me… that is, until, I was knocked out of my reverie: literally.

In the throws of deep sleep, blissfully unaware of the comparatively small life pitying himself down below, Natalie’s muscles twitched involuntarily. Her hand rocked and flexed, tossing me up and suddenly back down again. I bit my lip to keep from making noise, as I spread my palms out to catch myself. But it was to no avail, I watched as her brow furrowed, lips parted and eyelashes began to flutter. In half a second more those irises would land on me.

My heart raced as I scrambled to avoid her gaze. I couldn’t let her see me like this! I was a total wreck, a blushing imbecile!

Without a moment’s hesitation, I turned my back and buried my face into the hollow of her hand. I hoped my flustered movements hadn’t been enough to tip her off as she crossed from sleeping to waking.

My heart pounded away, thundering in my ears, as I strained to listen to the woman above and around me. My hearing was now the only sense I could use to keep tabs on her.

I focused on taking deep breaths to lower my heart rate and simulate sleep. I endeavored to stay limp, hoping to fool her for a second time.

Why was my heart still beating so fast?

I heard her mumble, just slightly as she came to, and the rustle of the sheets as her muscles reengaged and she shifted her weight, “Oh…” a delicate whisper escaped her lips. The rustling grew louder as the surface of the mattress where I lay buckled slightly. Please, think I’m asleep… She was getting closer… closer….

I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut, trying my damndest not to twitch a muscle, as my face burned with color.

I could feel her breath along my back now. My heart pounded at a breakneck speed… she was right on top of me, closing in.

Would she kiss me again? Press her lips into the small of my back?

It took everything in my power not to tremble at the thought: the horrible, wonderful, terrible thought…when suddenly, a gust of wind tickled my spine as she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god!” She whispered as quietly as someone her size was capable, and pulled away again, the swaying of the mattress turning my nervous stomach to knots, “I didn’t wake you? Good.”

Why did the room feel warmer still when she addressed me directly?

“… Hello there, Alexander.” She breathed in such a way that I suddenly felt ill and well all at the same moment, “How’d I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

What was happening to me? I felt dizzy, hot, nauseous, on edge and utterly relaxed all at once.

“God, you were something today… a brave little knight with his makeshift javelin— Poor Charles!” She sounded like she was suppressing the urge to laugh.

Why was she saying all this?? Did she know I was awake? Was she teasing me?

She paused for a moment, the muscles in the hand that surrounded me seeming to flex involuntarily. Don’t move… Don’t move…

I was practically starting to sweat. The heat was unbearable, but the silence was even worse. What was she thinking? What was she doing? Was she falling back asleep? I’d all but blinded myself and now the tension was killing me.

She muttered to herself, a little quizzical sound as if she’d discovered a new thought. My whole body was abuzz, waiting with baited breath. Was she pulling in closer again?

I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this act.

That’s when her words hit my ears once more.

“Thank you for letting me hold you, for trusting me…” her voice was hushed, soft, warm, almost dreamlike. Why did it make me want to melt into a puddle and crawl into a hole out of sight? I bit my lip to keep from moving.

I heard her breath catch and I tensed, waiting to see what had caused this shift. I could tell she was moving as I heard the friction of skin on bedsheets. Once again, however, she did her best to keep the hand I was held in from shifting.

What was it??

I laid there stiff as a board, ears pricked… nothing. More infuriating silence.

I had just given up hope, chalking it up to her making herself more comfortable, when I felt it: a point of soft pressure and warmth about as wide as my face suddenly pressed into my back.

It centered just between my shoulder blades, and then traced down, down, down along my vertebrae. It was featherlight in weight, making my skin tremble and my hair stand on end where it had traced.

Her fingertip caressed the length of my spine with a precise attention to gentleness even I had to admit was impressive. She drew closer now, the warmth of her breath cascading over me in waves.

It felt absolutely heavenly and, therefore, was an utter, embarrassing hell to endure.

I tore at the inside of my cheek with my teeth, hardly able to hold myself together.

Did she have any clue how she was torturing me?

“If I could kiss you right now without waking you, I would.”

My breath caught in my throat. I was undone.

And then, with just as much inconsequential ease as she’d begun, she ended my suffering all at once, with no gusto whatsoever.

“Goodnight, Little Nightmare.” With that she settled back down on the pillow beside where I lay and presumably closed her eyes.

That was it?

I felt my stomach drop as I finally breathed again.

What was all that?!

I trembled in the aftermath of the whole ordeal, discovering tension in every muscle group finally fade as air returned to my shaken lungs. I was not a man who often found himself in a position of doubt, but in this moment I really couldn’t decide if she knew I was awake and was torturing me on purpose or if she’d actually meant those things, and assumed they were still a secret to me.

I wished I could stretch out, or readjust, but I didn’t dare to move a muscle. Not until I was certain she was fast asleep. I was beginning to regret the pose I’d trapped myself in, as my injured knee began to ache and my arm lost feeling. I was never getting any rest tonight, was I?

Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, she twitched again, evidently fast asleep. Her previously slack fingers jolted to life as though each towering digit was charged with electricity. My heart leapt in my chest at the sudden, involuntary movement. Yet, there she was, towering above me, blissfully unaware and fast asleep. How I envied her!

But her unconscious movements didn’t stop there. Before I could catch my breath, her hand started closing in. Seemingly of their own accord, her fingers wrapped themselves around my body, pressing my hips, chest and face against the soft flesh of her palm. Natalie! What do you think you’re doing?! My heart thundered away as I feared her grip would get tighter and tighter.

Her fist clenched around me, fully trapping me in the hollow of her hand, but, thankfully, the pressure remained steady and I wasn’t in danger of being squeezed to death. I breathed a grateful sigh of relief, only to choke on the exhale, as I was suddenly moving again.

In the reflexes of sleep, she was shifting positions, rolling over and tucking her clasped hands directly over her chest.

I didn’t even have time to shout before my face (as well as the rest of my body) was surrounded by soft flesh, beneath which beat a human heart, pumping to the relaxed rhythm of unconsciousness.

In the blink of an eye, I’d gone from lying prostrate in the flat of her palm to finding myself wedged directly between… well, to put it in a polite way, her bosom.

All the while, she went on sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the entire humiliating situation.

Meanwhile, my nervous system was on fire. My face, no doubt, was a crimson shade of red, as I writhed and thrashed about, fighting for air and a chance to decry my current, unfortunate state.

Finally, blessedly, through some wild contortions, I managed to free myself enough to shout, “NATALIE!!!”

*****

I became aware of a distant voice before I ever opened my eyes. It was a mild disturbance at first, quiet and far off, just tickling at the edges of my awareness.

But slowly, it got louder and louder, demanding to be understood, “NATALIE!!!“

What?! What was it? Did I hurt him!?

I jolted awake, my stomach in knots, and a strange tightness and warmth on the surface of my chest. Before I even opened my eyes, I sat up in bed and flipped my bedside lamp on.

As I did this routine action from blind memory, I heard a grunt and small yelp.

Agony over the worst possible scenario clawed at my sternum as I snapped open my eyes.

Only… it wasn’t the fear that I felt clinging just above my heart… it was a tiny, blue-eyed, disheveled, little man holding on for dear life!

Oh god! Somehow I must’ve… cuddled him in my sleep… and now he was stuck with nowhere to go. The heat that rushed to my mortified face outmatched the warmth of his small body pressed against me.

My heart beat furiously beneath him as his fingers dug into my soft skin, leaving little impressions from his grip. He was doing everything he possibly could to keep from slipping down any deeper. I swear I could feel his legs squirm as he fought for a foothold on my lower sternum.

He craned his neck to meet my gaze, as I managed to collect my startled thoughts into a few words, “Are- Are you okay?”

Suddenly, his face turned five shades redder and he tore his eyes away. I’d expected him to shout and snarl at me for putting him in such an embarrassing position, albeit accidentally, but instead, in a half-voiced mumble that was difficult to hear, he responded, “What do you think??” Poor thing, his elbows were practically at the same level of his ears.

Oh.

He was embarassed embarrassed.

So much so he couldn’t even muster the will to hiss and spit like he normally would. He stared blankly at the distant wall, eyes wide, tiny nostrils flared, seemingly begging with his whole body (minus his eyes) for me to find a merciful exit from his current situation.

****************

My jaw was clenched so tightly I half expected to crack a molar.

I was barely breathing, unable to escape the warmth and smell of her, all around me. I couldn’t last one more second like this. Not this close.

If she so much as uttered a chuckle at my sorry state I was certain I’d die of embarrassment. That, or I’d plot her death for having witnessed me in such a compromising position.

I held my breath, hoping against hope that she could understand what I needed right now, despite my complete incapacity for articulating it.

Frozen in place (and, luckily, sliding down no further) I counted the beats of my ragged and mortified heart:

One, two, three...

“Hey…” her voice cut through the noise inside my skull, and I couldn’t help but jump. I gazed up at the sound, finding myself presented with the pad of her upturned finger, resting gingerly in front of me. A life raft, offered without commentary or shame.

A wave of relief crashed through me, as I clamored to embrace the digit. As soon as I’d encircled my arms around the width of her index, she lifted gently upwards, pulling me along with her.

The heat of her soft skin was replaced with the slight chill of the air, and in spite of myself, I couldn’t help but shiver and miss the comfort of her warmth. I didn’t have to suffer long, however, as her left hand soon met her right, supporting my dangling legs and stretched spine, so that I was now seated in her palm.

I coughed slightly, struggling to relax in her grip. I couldn’t make myself look at her. I could feel her energy like an imposing monumental wall, looming over my left shoulder.

When was the other shoe going to drop? When would she burst out in laughter at this small, pathetic little thing who couldn’t even help himself from being pressed into her chest against his own will? Where was her massive fingertip to muss my hair and dig into my stomach, bop my nose and otherwise bandy me about like an adorable plaything who’d just been made to look utterly ridiculous?

Once again, her voice shattered the inner workings of my mind, and I bit my tongue, bracing for whatever humiliation I was about to endure:

“Tea cake or chocolate?”

What?

I was so thrown by this out of context question that I couldn’t help but meet her eyes, my brow furrowed as I cocked my head to the side.

She calmly repeated herself, “Tea cake or chocolate? I figure you’re hungry. I know I am, and a snack sounds pretty good right now. Do either of those sound okay?”

Oh.

I cleared my throat and clumsily managed a response, “Tea cake sounds nice, thank you.”

Within a few moments, I found myself gently placed back on my bed, a steaming cup of tea to my right, on my bedside table, and a plate with a few crumbs of cake in my lap. We ate in silence for a moment, before she chuckled slightly, a smile warming her face as she turned to me.

My stomach dropped, thinking the veil had been lifted and now was the time she’d chose to strike, I practically choked on my current bite. But instead of saying a word about what had happened, she preceded to tell me a story of the first time she’d tried to bake this cake, and, having forgotten to add the baking powder, it turned out horrendously.

Much to my surprise, I found myself laughing along with her, unburdened by my earlier embarrassment. She was so animated in her storytelling, and was so self-effacing, that she seemed to erase all memory of the last hour.

I couldn’t believe my luck.

And when the tea had been drunk and the cake consumed, she simply smiled as she peered at me, clutching her pillowcase as she lay on her side, eyes level with mine, her wild hair cascading all around her, golden-green irises aglow.

“Back to bed?”

I nodded, confirming.

“You’re okay, right? I didn’t hurt you in any way, did I?” Her voice caught in her throat as she asked.

“No— I, I’m fine. Thank you, Natalie.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed at my response, “Okay, good.” She reached for the switch on the lamp, far above me, “Goodnight, Alexander.”

“Goodnight…” I wanted to thank her, to tell her how much her kind response had meant to me. But the words wouldn’t come.

I lay in bed, the silence deafening, as my head swam from the rollercoaster of emotions I’d just taken for the last few hours. Why did my stomach flip like that when I was close to her? Did she mean it when she'd said she wanted to kiss me again? Why was there a part of me that wanted her to? Why hadn’t she taken the opportunity to laugh at me for such a hilarious faux pas? Any other human would have. What had changed? She hadn’t shied away from teasing me in the past. Why in the deepest pit of my stomach did I want to crawl right back over her heart and fall asleep there? What had changed?

I asked myself these questions until the mental strain put me to sleep. I supposed my search for the answers would have to wait until tomorrow. Until then, I’d just have to accept not understanding what in the hell had just happened to me.

___________________________________________

Tag List

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@certainwizardguy

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#g/t writing #g/t community #g/t related #gt community #size difference #giant/tiny #g/t #a fraction of justice

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 1 month ago

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Good Morning Hawkins, I Am Tormented™️ By Eddie Munson x Hopper’s Kid!Reader

A/N: This is gonna be a little headcanon list that will probably evolve into more, not sure. Let’s see how it goes? I really loved the idea of Eddie and Hopper's eldest falling for one another. Especially considering the fact that we can have some genuinely funny and contradictory character attributes for the kid of an authority figure.

I’m also going to try something new with my banners. I want to make more inclusive banners for folks because I’ve had the conversation many times that a lot of aesthetic banners for inserts often don’t account for the fact that not all readers are cisgender white women.

So, I want to include more variations of women to represent reader in my banners. There will be quite a lot of different ones as well. I also had to include some for myself because I’m in that weird category where depending on the city I’m in I often am considered white passing, but I don’t relate to a blonde coded reader.

Also, we’re going full Rogers and Hammerstein Cinderella rules at all times in these inserts just so you know. If Whoopi Goldberg and Victor Garber can have Paolo Montalban as their biological child and no one ever questioned it, then Jim and Diane Hopper can have a child with some melanin in them. There’s whole ass aliens that eat people’s faces and psychic powers. We’ll be alright.

These headcanons will be more fluff than nasty. So, enjoy.

Tag List: (Please DM to be added) @writhingg @melodymunson @ali-r3n @amandahobblepot @twihard28 @hiimjulie @jozstankovich @eddiemunsonmash @mothmans-left-buttcheek @i-trash-about-things

Credits: banner by @strangergraphics

Well, good morning Hawkins. I have an idea as to how a relationship between Eddie the freak and Little Hopper got into a funny ass relationship.

These two are star crossed lovers and Hawkins’ own Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting, I am so serious rn. (RIP To my forever scream queen ❤️)

You and Eddie were always aware of one another, having grown up in such a small town and going to the same goddamn schools when there isn’t much of a choice in districts to attend.

As a kid, everyone didn’t really know what to make of you. All they knew was that your dad was a cop, and that he’d put the fear of god into one of the boys on the playground who kept trying to look under the skirt of your Gunne Sax dress.

Because of scary Hopper, everyone mostly left you alone during your early elementary school years.

Everyone except nosey ass Eddie Munson.

That little mop of curls followed you everywhere on the playground. Talking your ear off about music, dragons, knights in shining armor and princesses with hair long enough to climb.

One day he just saw you eating a spam sandwich alone, and decided you were going to be his.

He saw you reading a book about horses and just began info dumping about knights and the kind of horse armor they had during the medieval times and “did you know that Peter S. Beagle said that unicorns are more beautiful than horses because horses can only pathetically attempt to mimic the grace of a unicorn?”

Thems was fightin’ words.

Especially to you, Little Hopper, who grew up obsessed with Black Beauty, National Velvet, and any other horse media you could get your hands on.

“Excuse me?! Have you never even seen a horse when it’s at full gallop? You’re really stupid if you think a horse isn’t graceful!”

After you socked little Eddie Munson in the stomach for saying unicorns were better than horses, you two became inseparable.

When you were younger, everyone mostly felt sorry for Eddie rather than starting off outright hating him. His momma just died, and he was often the one kid in class who was poorly taken care of. Usually people felt sorry for him.

But Eddie was the class clown. He tried so hard to get any kind of attention, be it negative or positive, and he was just so damn clumsy that eventually the pity turned into anger.

No one ever quite got why he didn’t just “get it together” or “get over it” after his momma died.

They told him the same thing your parents often told you at six years old: Grow up. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps.

Jim and Diane weren’t the best parents when you were growing up. They say the first baby after a marriage can come at any time, and the second one always comes nine months after. You weren’t stupid. You knew you were the “oops” baby after their brief encounter when dad came back to Hawkins on leave in ‘65.

It was something you and Eddie could relate to— kids who were the result of dads wanting free love in the 60’s, now suffering the consequences in a red state with parents who hated each other.

When Sara was born, you spent a lot of time hiding out at Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home.

Things often got overwhelming with a new baby sister adding to the mix. Mom quit her job at the utility office to raise the baby and become Julia Child, dad kept on getting promotions at the precinct, and you were left confused and angry at the fact that only now had they decided to get it together.

So when the baby got overwhelming, you’d bike to Eddie’s house while Al took off on a bender elsewhere, often states away. You two spent hours in his bedroom taking every mismatched kitchen chair and blanket to make forts by the bed, playing cards or with old toys that had seen better days.

Everyone thinks you and Eddie are polar opposites: you’re the one on track for the really good academic scholarships and you still wear your cute prairie and medieval style dresses from the 70’s.

Meanwhile Eddie’s cutting up old blanket lined denim jackets and getting into harder metal.

Yet both of you are still the two nerds who will escape into music, and into the good old pages of a fantasy novel or the world of Greyhawk.

Of course you play D&D with Eddie, and you always have to specify exactly what kind of horse your elf fighter has. I think you spend more time describing the goddamn horse than you do the character.

Eddie always lobs a d4 at your head when you spend too much time talking about how your character’s horse is a dapple gray, not a flea-bitten gray.

In your older years, your dad is ready to tear his hair out because you absolutely refuse to stop going around with the town fuckup.

I think you would most likely be the one to stay in Hawkins living in the trailer park with Eddie and Wayne, married at eighteen, expecting at nineteen.

You also have that Older Sibling™️ rage built up, so any time you get a screaming lecture from your dad, you match his energy.

He’s basically given up on trying to make the two of you stop seeing each other because you always circle back to ignoring him for a week because you “don’t talk to pigs”.

Eddie secretly loves the audacity you have.

Eddie also loves to tease you because you and your dad have the same shitty, grumpy attitude.

He calls you Little Hop, and you always threaten to throw a brick at his head.

One thing Eddie also likes to do is tease you like every old woman in Hawkins does, with the “aww you look so much like your daddy!”

It always makes you feel like this:

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things headcanon #stranger things headcanons #jim hopper #diane hopper #al munson #Hopper!Reader

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smokesandsonatas · 2 years ago

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can i have some headcanons of what our twisted wonderland boys will do after they graduate? you can choose only 4 if there is a limit, thank you so much

Twisted Wonderland characters after their graduation at NRC

- This really tickled my brain so I'm going to write assumptions for everyone. I drafted this around last year then only got to post this right now, haha. -

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

After his graduation from NRC, and bagging home the highest honor for an exceptional mage, I can see Riddle furthering his education. If there's such a thing as Ph.D. in Twisted Wonderland, Riddle will pursue that. I can also see him becoming a "Double Doctor," a medical doctor, and a doctor of Philosophy. Not only that but Riddle will also pursue law, along with magical medicine. A doctor and a lawyer, all in one. Riddle would go on to be an internationally recognized mage. He will also be an advocate of Mental Health education, fueled by his past and his mission to never let anyone experience what he went through.

Ace Trappola

I can honestly say I see him being recognized as a famous basketball player or entering the military enforcement of Queendom of Roses along with Deuce. Occasionally, Ace will perform magic tricks along with his brother, which is always a hit of course, someone even offered the Trappola brothers to appear in a reality show but Ace had other plans. In his 3rd year, he will become the Dorm leader of Heartslabyul, while Deuce will be his vice.

Deuce Spade

Will become a high-ranking magical enforcer, his salary will allow him and his family to live comfortably, especially his mom. Once the Queendom of Roses gave Deuce an award as the 'Hero of the Year,' he broke down into tears as he hugged his mom. Will be buddies forever with Ace.

Cater Diamond

Will be a famous vlogger. Be it traveling or fashion, Cater will be a famous influencer. He will also have a successful studio with workshops on how to run a magicam account successfully. If there's a fashion show, he would always be on the VIP list, as he is acquainted with Vil. If he feels burned out, he'll try to stay away from social media. If Cater can't form long relationships, he'll just leave his mark in the world with his vlogs. #LonelyButNotReally

Trey Clover

Owner of a famous bakeshop. His family's shop will prosper under his guidance. On every occasion, their sweets will sold out. One time a magazine listed Trey as the "sexiest pastry chef," and Cater and his other friends will never let him live with it. The Clover's Bakeshop occasionally partners with Mostro Lounge, and when they do, everything sells out within seconds.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

He does not need to work, but he is a genius as Leona is still a prince of a noble family. Have you seen those alpha males ads? Leona will be all of that. A CEO of his own company and at the same time a diplomat of Sunset Savannah to other nations. His business started out as a mining corporation, gradually expanding into construction. A noble man who many people - beastmen and beastwomen - fawn over with. A millionaire. A bachelor. Once, Farena, the current king and his older brother, called to meet with him and Leona put harshly down the phone. Leona's reason for doing this? When he realized that Farena tried to marry him off to a noble from some rich kingdom 'for his future'. Leona's reply? Is a simple scoff and a very deep, "Fuck off."

Ruggie Bucchi

Will be an assistant to Leona. The next generation of Hyenas will not experience poverty as Ruggie did. His all-around skills will come in handy as a secretary. Ruggie will be a finance speaker. He will sometimes get his hands dirty. What? Hyenas are used to it. Fear not, he's still the same old Ruggie, just a little more rich.

Jack Howl

After graduation, Jack will get a lot of offers to be a professional magift player. Leona will offer to sponsor him tho, so he doesn't need to worry about financial things. Will be an advocate of physical health, his muscular physique is no joke. I can see Jack being a well-known magift player and a track and field competitor, with the help of Prof. Vargas as a head coach.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

In every nation, there's a branch of Mostro Lounge. Azul will be listed as the "Top 100 most successful bachelors," along with Jade, possibly Floyd, Vil, and Leona. Azul would go on to accumulate a lot of awards for his splendid business skills. Will own a share in almost all known companies. He'll have to pull strings from Idia to let him invest or buy shares from Jupiter Enterprises. Azul will be compared to the Sea Witch due to how influential he is. Once his mother passed him their restaurant in the Coral Sea, Azul's work will quadruple, and so is his income. Because of him, the mermen's view of octomerpeople will change. But for a darker secret, Azul will be known as the Mediator, and every Mostro Lounge place will be known as a neutral territory for members of the 'other' world. Of course, the Leech twins will still stick with him.

Jade Leech

Jade will inherit their Father's mafia legacy, along with Floyd. The Leech family will prosper under the twins' rule. Jade will open a mushroom business, as to what kind of mushrooms he's selling Jade will smile in response and say it's a fresh mushroom from the mountain. Jade's favorite base of operation would be on land, it's just more fun and chaotic when he watches humans stutter and pass out once he interrogates them. Jade will work as Azul's concierge, working for both him and the Leech family. And in the morning, he'll be the vice manager of Mostro Lounge. But sometimes it does get a little boring. Once a company famous for being greedy with their demands easily relents when they realize it is The Jade Leech that will conduct business with them. Such a shame, Jade would've loved to see the look on their faces.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be proud of his shoe collection! By now he would have a hundred pair of shoes. Of course, he's still with Jade and Azul, acting as the brawns of the trio. He will make it a point with them to only give him interesting jobs, if it's boring? Floyd would abandon that. One time he learned to drive, he brought his sports car to another country and accidentally got pulled over in the Queendom of Roses, to his surprise it is Mackerel (Deuce) who pulled him over! Floyd paid for the ticket and then went on to hang out with him. Floyd's favorite part of his job is squeezing everyone that owes them unpaid debts!

Though Floyd just doesn't understand why Momma Leech wants to introduce him to a mermaid. Jade is laughing at first, but not anymore once his twin realized that their Momma intends to introduce him to a mermaid too! Floyd will never forget the look on Jade's face - that's probably reflected on him - once their Momma gushes over about 'baby eels'. What? Mermaid eels have little populations. They have to do their part, don't they?

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim inherited his father's multi-million business. Through his easygoing personality, Kalim is well-loved by everyone. He established business trade routes with almost every nation, while still honoring his personal ones. An example is with the Felmier's, so that their apples will be enjoyed by everyone in Scarabia. The threats grew along with the Asim's already immense wealth. Don't worry, Kalim by now, will know how to defend himself using his unique magic. He just had to know how to reply with the various marriage proposals going his way, it pains Kalim to reject every single one, you know.

Jamil Viper

After his graduation at NRC, Jamil would take a year or two for himself. He will travel across Twisted Wonderland, and by this time Jamil's perception of the world would change. Finally prioritizing himself and is selfish for once. When he will come back, however, he will be met with a warm welcome from the citizens of Scalding Sands and the Asim and Viper family. Jamil would go on to become a successful businessman and bodyguard best friend of Kalim. But this time, they're on equal footing.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

There's no spotlight if there's no Vil Schoenheit. He will become the highest-paid actor for straight 5 years, until Neige just slightly beats him, running off a few hundred thousand madol. But in the same year, Neige surpassed him in pay, Vil went on to win the Best Actor award for his work in a movie as a misunderstood villain protagonist. His movie even screened in the coral sea! As if there's no stopping him, his successful cosmetics company took off Twisted Wonderland by storm, his eye palette alone is sold out within seconds.

Rook Hunt

Oh dear, Rook will also inherit the Hunt's family business. One moment someone can see Rook in Quendom of Roses then the next he would be spotted on Sage Island. Of course, Rook will not stop admiring beauty and arts! He will fund archaeological studies, theater, art museums, galleries, and even beauty pageants. Rook will be one of the art and beauty industry's most important benefactors.

Epel Felmier

Will be known as the "pretty boy of magift." Not in a bad way, but more like a compliment. His talent is honed thanks to his NRC club. Sometimes Epel would attend fashion shows that present him as a "manly man", you know wearing suits and all of that. Because of his new-found fame, the Felmier's apple business will bloom, in part thanks to Kalim.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Will become the head of S.T.Y.X, but will also manage the Shroud's position in Jupiter Enterprises. On top of that, Idia will develop one of the best MMORPG and FPS games Twisted Wonderland had ever seen. Additionally, Idia won't just stop in developing games, he will also develop magic-infused medical devices that will drastically change the healthcare industry, crediting the Idia Shroud for its invention.

Once a magazine included Idia in their "Top 100 most successful bachelors," he almost sued them if not for Azul, Ortho and his parents convincing him it's a good thing. But Momma and Papa Shroud can't help but wonder when will they have grandkids, the Shroud's need an heir to continue their duties, you know.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho will stay at his brother's side! But his looks will drastically change, if the Ortho from before looks young, the Ortho from the future will have a much taller body, but he will still regain his childlike curiosity. Only the future Ortho is more mature and more open to take time for himself. He will ask Idia to send him off to faraway lands to gather information and to also satiate his curiosity about the real world. Ortho will become independent yet still close to his brother.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Malleus' coronation is one of the most liveliest and solemn celebrations Briar Valley had seen for the last 5 centuries. Under King Malleus' rule, his kingdom will prosper. Faes and humans alike will come to a much more common understanding. Although the valley still heavily relies on magic, technology will become available, as a courtesy of the friendship acquaintanceship of Idia.

On some days, Malleus will truly get busy. Managing a country and it's affairs is no small feat. Through trades and partnership with every Kingdom, from Savanaclaw to the Coral Sea courtesy of his two alumni schoolmates from NRC, Briar Valley will prosper. It just gets annoying sometimes when the news reporters, the common folk, the fae senators, and even his own grandmother will ask him about an heir. Malleus still needs to find someone who will stay by his side, and it's not an easy thing to do.

Lilia Vanrouge

Sweet old man Lilia is on his way to retirement. In the chapter of Diasomnia, we learned that his magic is running out. Well, all good things must come to an end. Though his eventual retirement in the Land of the Red Dragon came true, he still returned. And Lilia had his fair share of adventures. Because Malleus is busy with the preparations for his coronation, Lilia is there to help him. On the occasion he's free to do anything, Crowley offered him a teaching position in NRC, which is the spot left open by Professor Trein. Lilia accepted, and for a semester he become a teacher, quitting right after to attend Malleus' coronation.

Lilia liked to think a had lived a full life. He was it all. A fearsome general, a caretaker of the young prince, an adoring father, and a good friend.

Sebek Zigvolt

No one dares to Disrespect the King under my watch! That is what he would occasionally say. If one of Briar Valleys' own Fae advisors disrespects Malleus, expect Sebek to speak, and even draw his sword. Yes, he's part human and half Fae but that doesn't mean he's not powerful enough to defend the king.

With this Sebek will grow in closer relationship with his grandfather and his mortal dad. His parents' dentistry business will expand, and for some time Sebek's face is the model of it, which made him embarrassed, yet he still loves his parents nonetheless.

Silver

I can see Silver honoring his promise to Lilia and staying by Malleus'side. However, that is considering if his feelings don't change. Silver will quickly become one of Briar Valley's most beloved humans, and for some reason, he always gets mistaken as an RSA graduate. Once Vil invited him to cover for a sick model in a fashion show and he declined but Vil already presented his picture to the photographers. For some reason, his picture was leaked to the public and Silver's name is trending for days. Some say he's a child of the king, and others compare him to Neige's beauty. His face was everywhere in magicam, with the hashtags "the most handsome sleepy prince," and the "dreamy prince of dreams."

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ms0milk · 5 months ago

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✧ forget-me-nots ✧

trying to pass on some of the appreciation I receive here because it's crazy to break the 4th wall for a second and really internalize how this community is driven by creativity and mutual loving. here's a list in random order of my most dear to me loves + a few nonmutuals whose work i think of often, and the pieces that remind me most of them

when they come for you in the night (thorfinn x reader) | @gardenofnoah

the depth of dive i had to take through your blog to find this is just.. the moment i hit "when you’ve known nothing but cruelty, kindness would surely be terrifying" it was game over. thorfinn came so so to life and this was such a stunnning introduction to your style. youve written so much now and i find myself always totally stunned! but i still always think of this one first. (i give it all to you also spills out of my brain sometimes while im trying to go about the world and was a close contender + this bkg x feral creature little piece of wonderful)

you. that's what happened, you (maki x reader) | @neiptune

you already know, i would be a godless liar if said i didn't think about this weekly; the maki rizz is heretofore unmatched, this piece went above and beyond all req expectations, “hold my hand, they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t” will be the epitaph on my tombstone. you have the power to make me love all those boys ive never even thought about, and when it was time to write for my actual wife you cracked your knuckles and made sure id never be satisfied by another! (aint that the worst thing you ever heard also reminds me of you sm, eren aot of all people)

unsubtle pro shinsou drabble | @moonbeamwritings

i can feel the heat of shinsou's crush through both our screens it is just perfection!!! what a dweeb. love to send this to myself so its easy to find and reread on the regular

To Shape a Home (bkg x reader) | @kweenkatsuki-fics

not only do the stardew vibes shine through every corner, this fic was carved out with such care it makes the relationship + bkg's growth all the more precious! "yer nothin’ to go nuts over." was an insane introduction and the two of them only got better and better and sweeter and stickier with time (ao3 tagged bc i cant find your beautiful masterlist marquie sosrrrrry)

bittersweet (vash x reader) | @heich0e

i remember exactly where i was when i read this for the first time and I remember how excited I was to find a vash fic after so long loving trigun! i didn't even know the new series had been released yet! this was agonizing, such a soft characterization for both, and the desert was so palpable-- the setting really added so much spice to an already seasoned piece

hanafuda (tanjiro x reader) | @cherryblossomsenpai

way way back in 2022 this was one of the first tanjiro pieces i ever read that really made a romantic argument for him. love his exhaustion, exasperation, fear and relief all wrapped up in one hug "The rest of his lecture is indecipherable," bc he's just crying so hard! total sweetheart, so in character

kirishima drunk girl wrangler | @mechamedusa

dusa🫱🏻‍🫲🏼kirishima ofc your kiri thoughts are unmatched and this one is so quintessential, when i think of him i think of you. he is so wrangler shaped! the perfect boyfriend, your mind is a treasure trove

wedding vows (hashira x reader) | @meowzfordayz

to my very first friend <3 you'd think the piece i associate most with you would be one of giyuus and you write so so impressively much it was hard to decide, but this hashira drabble wrung me by the neck when I first read it, and it still crushes me that your kyojuro isn't a real man i can go outside and hunt for sport. "I have an energy bar in my suit pocket — just in case." a snack for his partner at their own wedding put me down, love your mind always

sleepy rengoku drabble | @vampcubus

my femdom queen! why was it so hard for me to remember which character this was written for? reader's rizz blinded me, thank you for introducing me to dom!reader works bc now every sexy hc i have is filtered through the puppysub filter to make all those big strong boys tastefully more submissive

anything to do with anika~ | @ltadoriyuujl

love your oc, she's such a caring nuclear bomb! loved reading your wonderful chara exploration piece and being able to write for her myself! what a trust fall

the only exception (yuuji x reader) | @touyangel

yuuji is such a boyscout at the end of the world, even in total tragedy he is kind and calm and caring. thinking about "If he wasn’t teaching you how to decapitate something that used to be human, it might have been romantic." this one hurts so so good and very easily convinced me love on him. even with all the choso pieces of yours I adore, this yuuji piece reminds me most of you (this sick choso drabble is a close second!)

menthol (aki x reader) | @cyancherub

the smut hall of fame all time champion on my knees on the floor kicking my feet and smiling, love the characterization in this piece! car guy/childhood friend/overprotective/smoke sess/ so intimate and perfectly filthy. a tried and true classic, this is a blessing

fill my little world right up (aizawa x reader) | @shibaraki

the fic of all time yeah, WHAT a way to be introduced to your writing and what a privilege! this piece is just a beating heart, every action and character introduction felt like a memory, the love was so palpable. reread this one all the time, can't believe it's free, want to bind a copy for my bookshelf

cor unum (sukuna x reader) | @vampyrsm

this was the first writing i ever saw from you and in an effort of solidarity (im finishing a longform fic as well and holy fuck) i've very recently started reading and can already tell how much care you had for this world and its characters. the dedication to setting and history is so cool and rare in reader fics, can't believe you're letting us read all this for free! what a tome, seriously looking forward to it (and this bkg thought abt crowded places! mmm)

i love you more than being seventeen (nanami x reader) | @strawberrystepmom

this fucking guy oh my god, this fic almost put me in the hospital, so so glad you reposted. "hey. I love you." OOhhhHHGoowwAWAWAAAA this is such a timeless character piece-- nanami running away from this word he hates, job he hates, girl he loves, and coming back to it all knowing he'll die and knowing its worth it. i get chills

strawberry stars on my lips (bkg x reader) | @willowser

breaking the rules of speed dating is insanely romantic, probably the most romantic thing someone has ever thought of and this is the piece i think of when i think of your blog. bkg is simultaneously so constipated and so vulnerable i almost feel like i have to cover my eyes for him and it is sugary sweet in the best way. happy hiatus!

#appreciate you all and more!#pmme.txt

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theholypeanut · 1 year ago

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Kise Ryota x Love at First Sight

Peanut’s Wheel of Fortune Event

Cw: Kise x Student Council President, gn!reader, slight swearing, Kise being delulu idiot in love, Kise’s pov, 1k words

Plot: Kise was always warned about Student Council President, but he never saw them in person, apparently they are very scary…

Event Masterlist

Kise Ryota was in trouble.

To be exact, he was in trouble all the time, with Kasamatsu-senpai always ready to whoop his ass before a game, but after he noticed that Kise was so eager to misbehave, some of the older team members changed the strategy. They created a scary persona of a Student Council President. Or that’s what Kise thought.

„Kise, if you don’t clean the gym today Student Council President will be very angry”

„You have no idea how angry they can be, I wouldn’t test my luck”

Kise never since he started Kajio Academy seen this mysterious person, who was apparently in their second year.

„They are very busy, but believe me you don’t want to be on their radar: if you end up on their black list it's over for you” said Hayakawa-senpai.

„They are younger than me and I’m still having chills whenever I hear their voice” mentioned Kobori-senpai. „They have this... cold demeanor like your mom, when she is not mad, just disappointed. Nightmare”

Again, Kise didn’t take these words to heart: he felt like they just needed some scary story to make him do his chores or come on trainings on time.

However this one day, he really fucked up. Because of the important match with Seirin coming up, he started to slack at school. He stopped listening during the classes and even with his amazing intellect, he could see his grades were just slipping. But who cares? He was never in this school for the grades anyway.

After one of the trainings, as always, there was a crowd of his fans waiting at the entrance of the gymnasium. He was used to at least giving them a wave and a smile, so they could go home happy, fantasizing that they were the main character in the romance novel, or anything else. Ryota didn’t care: If he did it, at least everyone would stay outside of the court, otherwise the coach would scold him. But this time he saw a person coming to him with a smile, crossing the court lines. To show his good side to the team, with a bright smile he went in their direction.

„Oh, I’m so sorry, but you cannot enter here” he said with the sweetest tone. He was surprised no one from the team yet commented anything. However, when he looked closely, Kise felt his heart dropping. He had never seen such a gorgeous human being in his life. Was it an angel?

„However if you tell me your name, I can give you my phone number and we can meet after the training” he added flirtatiously. You sent him a smile, but it was the coldest smile he had ever seen in his life. „No need” he heard, feeling like he made some sort of mistake. „However I would like to see you after the training, Kise Ryota”

The whole gymnasium stayed silent, and at this moment blonde felt, something was up. It was not his fan? Was he in trouble? Why did it sound like a threat, not a date? However, he decided to keep it cool. He sent one of his brightest smiles.

„Like a date? You are quite forward, I like it”

Everyone in the gym felt like the air was just sucked out of there.

„…I will see you after you change” you said with a cold expression, turned around and left. Ryota had no idea why even his fangirls remained silent. He was just about to go in the direction of the locker room, when he felt a kick on his back, way harder than usual.

„You are such a moron Kise!” Kasamatsu-senpai yelled. All of the crowd vanished.

„What did I do?!” Ryota stood up with a single tear leaving his eye from the impact of the kick.

„Did you just try to flirt with the Student Council President?!” He heard Kasamatsu screaming. Hayakawa-senpai looked at him with the fear in his eyes. „We should say our goodbyes to Kise, this might be his last day…”

Kise’s face brightened up.

„So this is the Student Council President? You never told me they are so beautiful!” He felt a slap landing on his cheek.

„Stop thirsting over them! What’s wrong with you?! They hate you now!”

„I think even coach could feel the shiver down his spine when they asked you to meet after the training… You are in big trouble Kise” Kobori-senpai said genuinely worried. But the blonde model was already thinking about something else. He looked at the door with a dreamy look.

„Our wedding will be in February, on Valentine's Day…”

Kasamatsu took a swing with his hand but Kobori-senpai stopped him with a resigned look.

„We lost him.”

He was right - Ryota wasn’t listening anymore. Till the end of the training to when he was ready to face the new love of his life, he couldn’t stop feeling his heart beating fast. Was that what people felt when they were in love? Kise never could relate to all of those girls swooning over him, but now he could feel his knees giving up just by the memory of your face.

On his way out, his upper-class mates saluted him as he was going into the war. But Kise only looked at them excitedly and said „I plan to get their number today, wish me luck!”

And even if they felt like Ryota was going on his death sentence, they never saw him so happy an excited again, and who knows, maybe this childish arrogant basketball star is exactly what will melt your heart?

Kise did not get your phone number that day. He was scolded. But he will not give up.

Bonus:

#🥠#peanut’s wheel of fortune event #kise ryota x reader #kise ryōta #kise ryouta #Kise Ryouta x you #kuroko no basuke x reader #kuroko no basket #kise x reader #dividers by cafekitsune #knb #knb x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

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Just...Stay: Part 2

SUMMARY: Tyler has to prove himself and win back your trust after nearly losing you for good. As he tries to commit to building a life together, the past tensions resurface, challenging both of you to confront the insecurities and fears that have kept you apart.

PART 1 HERE

A/N: I tried to write this using some of the ideas that you guys had for where YOU would like to see the story go (ie: a little bit of Tyler groveling, her moving on, and Tyler having to try and win her back! Hope you like it! xx

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You stand on the porch, watching Tyler’s taillights disappear down the long, winding road. The ache in your chest tightens, and you whisper to yourself, He’s gone. This time, for real. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the porch railing as if it can steady the chaos churning inside you. You’ve waited so many times for him to turn around, to decide he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But he’d made his choice, and you can’t keep waiting for him to want you.

With a shaky breath, you went back inside, the echo of his last words still hanging heavy in the air. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, already pressing the familiar contact without needing to see the name. When the line connected and your mother answered, you could barely get out a word. But she didn’t need you to; she recognized the silence, the breathless, broken sound of you holding back tears.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, with that knowing sadness in her voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I know.”

The crack in her voice brought the tears you’d been fighting up to the surface. The dam broke, and everything you’d been holding in—the hope, the ache, the final goodbye—poured out, leaving you unable to respond as she filled the silence with soft, soothing words.

“I’m coming over,” she assured you. “Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, wiping away tears as you settled back against the counter, feeling like the empty space Tyler left behind was somehow everywhere now, pressing in around you. The quiet house felt so much bigger without him in it, the emptiness swallowing every corner that once held laughter, whispered promises, and the comfort of his steady presence—even if it was always temporary.

Later, you and your mom sit in the living room, the stillness almost too much to bear. She’s wrapped her arms around you, her gentle strength holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. You try to hold back the tears, but the weight of everything—of hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d realize he was making a mistake, hoping he’d come back up those steps to say he was staying—finally breaks.

Your mom rubs small circles on your back, her voice soft and steady. “He made his choice, and someday, he’ll understand what he’s lost,” she murmurs. “You did everything you could, honey. You deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

You nod, though it doesn’t stop the ache gnawing at you. For the first time, though, you start to let the truth settle in: that you deserve more than the waiting, the hoping. That you deserve someone who chooses you fully, every single day.

Later that night you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh light making your face look even more worn from the day, you brace yourself for another quiet night. You slip into your pajamas, ready to try and sleep through the ache in your chest, when your phone lights up on the countertop. Tyler’s name stares back at you, as if daring you to pick up.

Your heart thuds painfully, and for a split second, you’re tempted. He’s calling, just like he said he would. But you can’t answer this time. You can’t let him back in, not after everything. So you hit the red button, sending his call to silence.

Thirty seconds later, your phone lights up again—his name filling the screen once more. The resolve you’d tried so hard to build threatens to crumble, but you steady yourself, knowing you need to stay strong. You told him what would happen if he left. You’d made it clear, and this time, you have to stay firm with that.

With a deep breath, you hit “Ignore” again, feeling both the sting of regret and the strength of your own boundaries. It hurts, but you know it’s what you need to do.

You turn your phone face-down on the bed, trying to ignore the nagging pull to check it. But when you do, Tyler’s message is there, waiting.

Tyler: Can we talk? I just want to talk to you.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of every unsaid word between you. He wants to talk, but he still isn’t saying what you need to hear—no apologies, no acknowledgment of what he’s putting you through, just the same vague promises. Another message appears as you sit, reading it with an ache building in your chest.

Tyler: Please. Talk to me darlin.

You want to answer; some part of you always will. But there’s no real shift in his words, no sign that he understands what you need. It’s just Tyler reaching out like he always does, and leaving you to carry the weight when he pulls away.

So, you let the messages sit. They stare back at you, blue checkmarks confirming that you’ve seen them, leaving him on read for once. It takes everything in you, but you put your phone on silent and push it to the side. This time, you’re standing firm.

* * * *

A few months had come and gone since you’d last heard Tyler’s voice, and while the ache lingered, day by day, you’d felt it dull. The first few weeks had been the hardest—filled with reminders of him in places you hadn’t even thought to look. But with time, you’d found a new rhythm. You packed up his things and stored them in the barn loft, out of sight and mostly out of mind. There’d been a few days when you’d thought he might call again, but each week that passed with no message made it easier to let him go.

Then, just a few nights ago, you’d bumped into Matt at the bar. The quiet, shy boy you remembered from high school was still there, but he’d grown more self-assured, his conversations easy and light. He’d listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and laughed at your jokes, which was a nice change after months of heartache. When he’d asked if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes hopeful yet calm, you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

Now, as you finish getting ready, you catch a glimmer of that anticipation you thought you’d lost. It’s a soft, hopeful excitement, different from the wild spark you’d once had for Tyler, but maybe that’s exactly what you need.

As you slip on your shoes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement tingles in your stomach. It’s been so long since you let yourself look forward to something like this—putting on a new dress, curling your hair, and swiping on lipstick just to feel a little spark. It feels nice to step into a night that’s full of possibility, even if it’s quieter than the whirlwind you once imagined with Tyler.

Matt isn’t the kind of guy who will leave you on edge, wondering what comes next. That thought is comforting as you smooth the fabric of your dress and check your reflection one last time. He’s steady, warm, and easy to talk to, and when he’d asked you out last week, you’d felt a genuine flicker of excitement—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself in ages.

Your phone chimes, breaking the silence of your room. You glance over, expecting it to be a text from Matt saying he’s on his way, but instead, you freeze.

Tyler’s name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, everything else fades.

Tyler: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot. Just… if you have a minute.

You stare at the message, feeling a swirl of emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s been weeks since his last message, and each day that passed without one felt like another small step forward. You’ve been letting him go—pushing his things up into the barn loft, moving him out of your thoughts inch by inch. But tonight, of all nights, he’s suddenly there, reaching out again.

The phone chimes again, and another message appears.

Tyler: I’m sorry. I miss you. Just thought you should know.

Your heart clenches, but this time, you feel a new kind of strength holding you back. You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wait and wonder, who doesn’t leave just to come back again. Tyler’s voice and his words, tempting as they are, can’t keep pulling you under. Not anymore.

With that, you tuck your phone into your bag, letting his message go unanswered as you grab your keys. Tonight, you’re stepping out into something new, something steady and full of hope—maybe even something that finally lets you move on.

At dinner, you and Matt settle into a cozy booth near the window, the glow of candlelight casting a soft warmth across the table. You offer a smile, and he returns it, looking just as eager and nervous as you feel. The waiter takes your orders, and for a moment, you both fumble with your menus, using them as a buffer against the quiet that settles between you.

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat, “how’s work been treating you?”

You launch into a polite summary, and he nods along, sharing his own stories from the hardware store, a few of which earn a chuckle. But as you finish, another silence slips in, and you feel that small, familiar tension build in your chest. You drum your fingers lightly on the table, scanning your mind for something—anything—to say. Just as the silence is about to become too much, Matt asks if you’re excited for the weekend, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You tell yourself it’s probably just nerves, that this is normal. After all, it’s been a couple of years since you’ve been on a real date, and first dates are always a little awkward. But as you lift your glass to take a sip, you can’t help but think back to the times you’d come to this same restaurant with Tyler. How the conversation would flow so easily, sometimes even late into the night. You’d swap stories, share laughs, and talk about everything and nothing all at once. There was never a lull, never a forced smile or the need to fill the quiet.

You catch yourself before the memory sinks any deeper and shake your head, forcing a smile as Matt picks up on a new thread of conversation.

Stepping outside the restaurant after dinner with Matt, you hold the door open just long enough to make sure he’s following when you feel yourself bump into someone headed in. You stumble back, and strong hands instinctively reach out to steady you. You begin to apologize, breathless from the sudden collision, only to look up and freeze.

Those familiar, green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything around you blurs. Tyler stands before you, in a red button-up, worn jeans, and that off-white Stetson you know all too well. He murmurs your name, his voice thick with something unreadable as he holds you in place for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

But before you can react, Matt is by your side, his hand pressing warmly against your lower back, gently pulling you away.

Tyler releases you, his gaze lingering as Matt asks if you’re okay. You nod, feeling a bit dazed, and allow Matt to guide you toward the street.

Tyler calls your name again, his voice softer, a thread of desperation woven through it. But you glance back only briefly before following Matt down the sidewalk, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively as he continues talking, oblivious to the moment that just passed.

You try to steady yourself, but the weight of Tyler’s gaze is still on you, even as you walk away.

Watching you leave with someone else beside you, Tyler’s heart twists in a way he didn’t see coming. The sight of Matt’s hand resting comfortably on your shoulder, of you turning away from him so resolutely, strikes deeper than any storm he’s ever chased. It’s in this moment that something cracks, and he realizes with painful clarity just how much he’s let slip through his fingers. The thought of anyone else sharing the moments you once shared together is a weight he can’t shake. As he watches you disappear into the night, Tyler makes a silent vow to win you back, whatever it takes.

Matt drives you home, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as you watch the streets blur past. He’s considerate, not pushing for conversation, as though sensing the hints of distraction lingering in your gaze. When he pulls up to your house, he steps out first, hurrying around to open your door. You offer a grateful smile, following him to your porch as you fish for your keys.

Standing under the dim porch light, you both pause, caught in that familiar, tentative moment that usually ends with a goodnight kiss. Matt smiles, leaning in with a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s hoping for more than the simple goodbye you’re about to offer. And though part of you wants to bridge that gap—maybe even craves the closure it could bring—Tyler’s face flashes in your mind, his eyes catching yours across that restaurant entrance, and you can’t shake the thought.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s cheek before stepping back, your hand lightly on his arm. He seems to understand, though a hint of disappointment flickers in his eyes. “Goodnight, Matt,” you say softly, your hand dropping back to your side.

“Goodnight,” he replies, a warm smile slipping back into place. He pulls you in for a quick hug, his embrace steady and reassuring, but he doesn’t push for more.

Watching him walk back to his car, you feel a pang of guilt. Matt’s a good man, and he deserves someone whose heart isn’t scattered across memories and what-ifs.

You let out a slow breath as his car pulls away, whispering into the stillness around you. You know you’re not quite there yet.

Minutes later you are in the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water when you hear it. When you hear him. The rumble of his truck reaches you before the sight of it does, that familiar low, steady hum breaking the quiet night. You freeze in place, feeling the sound more than hearing it, the way it seems to settle into your bones and send your heart racing. You step over to the kitchen window, barely breathing as you watch him pull up, headlights cutting through the darkness until he shuts the engine off.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just sits there, his silhouette still and contemplative. You’d know the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, anywhere.

Slowly, he climbs out and makes his way up the path, boots crunching on the gravel. With each step he takes your mind races, grasping for words, trying to brace for the conversation you know he’s here to have.

When he reaches the front porch, he pauses, hands on his hips as he lets out a long breath. His eyes flick to the window, and you step back instinctively, as though he might see you.

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, the past month of silence cracking open like fresh heartbreak. Then he’s knocking, the sound a low, insistent rhythm that echoes through the house, reaching you where you stand, rooted in place.

You take a deep, steadying breath, one hand reaching to your chest as if to calm the beat of your heart. You can’t avoid him now. Whatever he has to say, you need to hear it. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it as you remind yourself to stand strong, to keep your heart guarded.

With one last breath, you open the door, meeting Tyler’s gaze—the same gaze that’s held you and let you go too many times to count. Tyler’s eyes find yours, raw and pleading, and his face softens in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. He takes a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush like he’s been holding them back for too long.

“I know I messed up. I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away,” he begins, his voice low and thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t…not like this.”

His hands run through his hair, and for a second, he looks at the ground, gathering himself. When he looks back up, his eyes glisten, and he steps closer, his words growing more insistent.

“These last few months, you not talking to me… I can’t even explain how much that hurt. How much I’ve missed you—missed everything we had. I kept thinking, maybe if I left you alone, you’d be better off. But I was wrong, and now I can’t stand not being near you.”

He takes another breath, his voice catching slightly as he adds, “I want to come home. I want to be with you. I want to come back and stay this time…if you’ll have me.”

You feel your heart stutter, your mind racing to process what he’s just said. You’ve wanted to hear those words so many times before, but now…now that he’s here, your defenses come rushing up.

You try to keep your voice steady, shaking your head as you take a step back. “Tyler…you don’t just get to come back whenever you feel like it. You left. You made that choice, and I—” But you stop, seeing the way he looks at you, eyes shining with the tears he’s trying to keep back.

He’s holding his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself together. The vulnerability in his face hits you like a wave, breaking down the walls you’ve been trying so hard to build.

“Please,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I…I just need you to know that you’re it for me. You’re home. Not just this house or the land…you, darlin’. Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You feel a knot in your chest tighten, torn between the longing in his words and the pain of what’s happened.

“Tyler,” you begin, voice unsteady, “I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself up just to watch you walk away.”

His hand reaches out, hesitating before he rests it on your arm, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere this time,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s here, truly here, every bit of himself laid bare for you. And for the first time, you see a man who’s willing to fight—fight to be with you, fight for a future together, fight to make up for every broken promise.

You cross your arms over your chest, the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air between you. For a second, it almost feels like you can’t breathe. His words are exactly what you’ve wanted to hear, but there’s still a part of you that’s scared—scared to believe him, scared to fall for this all over again. You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the emotions that have flooded your chest.

“How do I know?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of every question you’ve been holding onto. “How do I know this time is going to be different? How do I know you’re not just saying what I want to hear, again?”

He pauses, his face tightening for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, his sincerity cutting through the uncertainty. “All I can do is prove it to you,” he says quietly. His words are steady, but there’s an ache beneath them, something that makes your heart skip. “I can’t change the past, but I can damn sure try to make up for it.”

He glances toward his truck, his hand dropping to the side before he looks back at you. “I brought an extra bag with me this time,” he says, his voice steady with a quiet determination. “I was hoping you’d let me leave it here. Maybe when I come back in a couple weeks I could come back with the rest of my stuff…and that you’ll let me stay.” He looks at you, his eyes open and honest, no pretense, no bravado—just the raw truth of a man who wants nothing more than to rebuild what he lost.

You feel the sharp sting of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Tyler Owens, the man who once seemed so lost, so unsure of anything but the moment, is telling you he’s ready to plan. You feel the ground beneath you shift as he continues.

“I’ve talked to Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani about it,” he says, almost as if it’s something he’s already put in motion. “I’ve been thinking about moving up here, about making it work. I know it’s not just about me anymore. I know what I did, and I know what it’s going to take for you to trust me again. I want to be here, with you. And I’ve already been figuring out how I can make it work with storm chasing. With the team.”

The weight of his words hits you like a freight train. Tyler, who’d never seemed the type to plan, to make a life out of more than just surviving, is telling you that he’s thought ahead. He’s thought about you—about living with you. The logistics of his work, where he’d fit in with the team, how he could make it all work—things he’d never even considered before.

He never once brought up the idea of moving in, of building a future with you, before. Now, he’s here, telling you that he’s ready. And as much as your heart aches with uncertainty, something inside of you can’t help but feel the tiniest thread of hope tugging at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find the right words, trying to keep your guard up, even as your heart beats louder with each passing second.

“How do I know this is real?” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

Tyler’s eyes are locked on yours, his expression soft and full of sincerity, the words that leave his lips quiet but sure. “You’ll know by what I do. Not by what I say.”

As you stand there, the flickering hope mingling with every guarded part of you, you can’t hold back anymore. You have to ask him, to hear him explain it in a way that might finally make sense.

“Why, Tyler?” you say, your voice laced with hurt and frustration. “Why do you do this? The hot and cold? Coming back and then leaving just when I start to trust that you’ll stay? Why am I never enough for you to choose me?”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, but Tyler doesn’t flinch. He looks at you, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable cross his face—an expression you don’t think you’ve seen before. He takes a shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to find the words.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’ve always been enough—more than enough. It’s me who hasn’t been enough. I’ve been scared… scared of needing someone the way I need you, of letting myself feel things that deep. I kept convincing myself that I’d be fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, but that was never true.”

He pauses, glancing away before he meets your gaze again, his eyes intense and filled with regret.

“Seeing you moving on, watching you with him tonight…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It made me feel something I never want to feel again. The thought of you with anyone else—it made me sick. It took almost losing you for me to see that I can’t keep doing this. That if I kept running, I was going to lose you, really lose you. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he takes your hand fully, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” he admits, voice heavy with sincerity. “I know I messed up. But being without you, thinking I’d lost you for good… it’s been hell. And if there’s any part of you that can still trust me, even a little, I want to show you that I’m ready to be here for real. To stay. I can’t keep running from the one thing that matters most to me.”

Tyler’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours as he takes a slow step closer, his hands resting at his sides, waiting. He opens his mouth, then closes it, the tension in the air so thick you could almost touch it. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but you can hear the vulnerability underneath.

"Please, just… give me a chance," he says, his words hanging in the air.

You swallow hard, your heart caught in a war between hope and doubt. You’ve been hurt before, but everything in you is screaming to believe him. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s led to this moment. And then you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze.

"Tyler," you begin, your voice softer now, but still firm. "This is your last chance. If you mess this up, there’s no coming back from it. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t."

He nods immediately, his face lighting up with the smallest hint of relief. "I swear, I won’t. I won’t mess it up." His voice is more confident now, as if something in him has shifted—something that wasn’t there before.

You feel a knot in your chest loosen, though doubt still clings at the edges. But as you stand there, looking at him—really looking at him, all of the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty—starts to fade away. It’s like for the first time in so long, you feel like you can let your guard down, just a little. You give a small nod, the corners of your lips lifting despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I’m trusting you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make me regret it."

Tyler doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps in closer, his hands gently cupping your face, as if he’s scared you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on to you. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a slow, tender motion. The air between you both feels charged, full of something real, something raw, something that hasn’t been there in so long.

And then, without another word, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. His mouth moves against yours with such tenderness, like he’s trying to pour everything into it—his apology, his promises, his love—everything he’s been holding back. You melt into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his sincerity, his desire for you.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if testing the waters, but it’s gentle, filled with the kind of care and emotion that you’ve been missing for so long. And in that moment, all of the fear and doubt you’ve been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by something that feels like home.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there for a few moments, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air. Tyler smiles against your skin, and you can feel the weight of everything shifting.

"I won’t mess this up," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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kiwisa · 2 years ago

Text

Watch Out, Boys ✷ cl16

✷ SECOND INTERLUDE OF THE TAMING OF THE HEARTBREAKER

━━━━━ PREVIOUS & NEXT !

in which... Y/N's invitation to the Miami GP means trouble !

AS THE HALL & OATES' SONG GOES: "Watch out, boys, she'll chew you up." Because, if there's one thing we know, it's that putting Y/N L/N and 20 conventionally attractive men in the same place is never a good idea.

Yet, that is precisely what's going to happen in a few days at the Miami International Autodrome. The actress, who will play the iconic Barbie in Greta Gerwig's adaptation, has been invited by Ray-Ban to the Miami Grand Prix on May 8.

The news was announced on Ferrari’s TikTok account⏤which the eyewear brand sponsors⏤and has since then sparked numerous reactions. While these vary, one common thread stands out: the fear of havoc. Admittedly, L/N turns heads and sows discord wherever she goes.

Formula One is already a chaotic world, adding Y/N L/N and her shenanigans to the mix would only make it worse.

Since her list of actors waiting to be seduced is dwindling, this event presents itself as a bargain for the Academy Award-winning actress, who will only have to draw someone from 20 options to be her next prey.

If the possibilities are considerably reduced by one small element to consider⏤the WAGs⏤L/N has shown before that she is not above immorality when it comes to getting her way. Her affair with Harry Styles, even though he was rumoured to be in a relationship with Olivia Wilde at the time, is formal proof of this.

Hide your men, ladies, because The Heartbreaker is in town and ready to pounce!

✷ SEE ALSO ON LOVE CLUB... !

Y/N L/N named the highest-paid actress of 2021 by Forbes

"Name a more iconic character? You can't" Y/N on being cast as Barbie for Greta Gerwig's movie

Is Harry Styles cheating on Olivia Wilde with Y/N L/N?

Of course, all eyes are now on the two Ferrari drivers, with whom L/N will spend most of her time (common sponsor dictates), and more particularly on Charles Leclerc, who is single.

It has been almost a month since the woman was last seen with anyone. A record! She's probably more determined than ever to get her hands on some fresh meat, and what better than a handsome, muscular driver who can speak French? We all know L/N's soft spot for the language of love. Her interviews remind us of it enough. So do her many French conquests.

We just hope that the actress' famous bedroom eyes will not trouble the Monegasque and make him lose his race. The fans of Il Predestinato would not react kindly to this.

He is, after all, one of the current favourites for the championship.

In any case, no matter what happens over the weekend, the outcome is bound to be interesting. Because, while her actions are open to criticism, Y/N L/N's impact is undeniable.

The woman is already the talk of the paddock and she hasn’t even set foot on it yet.

FILED UNDER #Y/NL/N #F1 #ACTORS #SPORTS #MIAMI #DATING

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Anonymous 15 minutes ago

It's already a miracle that she hasn't tried to fuck football players yet, if she could keep this up with F1 it would be great.

Anonymous 38 minutes ago

I will never understand why celebrities who have nothing to do with F1 and probably don't give a shit about it either are invited to all GP. It's ridiculous.

Anonymous 51 minutes ago

There's something about Y/N that I just hate. It's physical at this point. I can only stand her in movies. Probably because she doesn't act like herself in those...

Anonymous 1 hour ago

No, but I swear she really has a libido problem. This is the only explanation. She must be a nymphomaniac. Or just a whore. Or both.

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xoxo-ren-xoxo · 8 months ago

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A Popstar Grian AU - Ari AU (Part One)

Or, @angeart and I put Grian through a lot of pain for no good reason.

Hello! Like two people showed interest in my post about Ari AU, thus here we are. This is not really a 'fic', but it isn't a short summary either. Let your mind go wild. Let your imagination be free. Read my words, boy.

This is Part One. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. Part Four is here. Part Five is here. The tag for this is #ari au.

But before we start, some introductory things you should know.

This is scarian. Don't read if you do not like scarian.

Grian uses he/she pronouns and is transfem genderqueer, I tend to default to she as it helps differentiate her from other characters a lot, but I mix it up.

I somewhat based this AU on attitudes towards celebrities / stars from the 2000s - present day, so this can be read as a period piece in some ways... This concept started with the song 'The Fear' by Lily Allen. I recommend giving it a listen.

This is the "real world", so no hybrids, no respawn, no "code", etc.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this Part: stalking, physical assault, attempted sexual assault, drugging, mentions of vomit, hospitals, me autismposting about music genres.

You can always stop reading! The AU starts out pretty tame and gradually gets, well, worse. But I promise it has a hopeful ending! Eventually!

(also please ask me questions, send ideas, reblog, comment, etc. because I love this AU a lot) (and thank you to Ange for enabling me and adding amazing scenes to this au)

Album One: ‘Sunshine Sedative’

Grian, better known by her stage name ‘Ari’, is a popular singer-songwriter embarking on a world tour to promote her latest album, Sunshine Sedative. The album is indie pop-y and bright, exploring themes of romance, self-empowerment, and subtle references to gender and sexuality. Grian’s style on-stage is hyper-feminine, flashy, and fashionable. He’s known to be a bit prickly, demanding, and stubborn off-stage, slow to warm up to the people around him.

The tour bus carries both Grian and her key crew. Pearl (marketing, PR and organisational work), Impulse (costumes and tech), and Mumbo (tech assistant and main contact for Grian’s manager). Though Grian likes to self-manage, preferring to do her own make-up and plan the set-lists for her own shows.

Recently, Grian has been running into some issues with stalker fans and online haters, receiving some threatening messages on social media. Mumbo tries not to let him doomscroll on his phone too much, even going so far as to confiscate the phone while on tour. This is Grian’s biggest tour- no one was prepared for her to become a star or “indie darling” type- and the fans are… a bit crazy.

After the anonymous threats, Grian agrees to get a bodyguard. This is where Scar comes in. At first, Scar is a little terrified. The company he works for advised him not to annoy or upset Grian, and to always call her Miss Ari. Never disagree with her or do anything he isn’t contracted to do.

Scar throws all of this out of the window pretty fast. Yes, Grian is especially difficult when they first meet, but Scar can tell it’s because Grian is stressed. About the tour, about the fame, about the threats.

A show results in Grian getting a sore throat, and Scar offers her some tea with honey, rambling on about how his mother used to make it for him when he was sick. Grian begrudgingly takes the tea, and tells Scar to just call her Grian from then on. She’s not a fan of the blurring of her private and public life.

Eventually, Grian gets bored enough to rant to Scar about how Mumbo won’t let him use his phone anymore, and Scar offers to sneak it back to him. They have a laugh scrolling through celebrity news and playing silly games together. Then they get found out and both get a stern talking to from Mumbo and Impulse. (Pearl laughs at them in the background).

As Grian’s tour starts selling out, more tour dates are added, extending their time on the road. Scar continues to sneak Grian’s phone to her, pushing her to have fun rather than scroll through hate messages. It seems like a peak moment for Grian, delighted by the idea that she has so many fans, and beginning to develop a bit of a crush on Scar. Grian even starts acting a little nicer.

Tabloids and Stalkers

The fame comes with more caveats than Grian anticipated. One day, while Scar and Grian are reading some dumb article on Grian’s phone, she receives a random message from a burner account. It’s a picture of Grian, through a hotel window, half dressed. Grian recognises the hotel, one they stayed in a few nights ago just to get away from the tour bus.

Someone knew she would be there. Knew what room she would be staying in. There is a vaguely ominous / threatening message attached. It makes Grian never want to step foot outside again. It makes her feel sick. Suddenly she can’t focus on anything around her.

He has a panic attack.

Later, as Grian is pacing the floor of the bus, he’s told not to make an announcement about the stalker. She decides herself not to go to the police, and, after some hesitation, not to cancel the tour. They can’t disappoint all those people.

Over the next few shows, Grian gets closer to Scar. Both because they get along so well, and because Scar is there to protect her. He's clumsy and funny and once he starts talking about something he likes, it’s hard to get him to stop. Grian finds him incredibly endearing and, more importantly, incredibly safe.

But things are bad. Grian can’t even go to a public bathroom without Scar checking to make sure no one is waiting for her. He feels constantly watched, constantly on-edge, constantly afraid. The paparazzi don’t exactly make it easier.

Tabloids love Ari. She’s a superstar, a real diamond in the rough who came from nothing. They’re obsessed. Anything she does in public can make a tabloid front page. As the tour goes on and her songs rocket up the charts, it only gets worse. The flashes of the cameras have started to scare him.

Scar is an angel, dealing with the paparazzi professionally and confidently. He stands in front of Grian and chases the cameras off. But it feels like they can’t go anywhere. They can’t do anything. Even when they stop at another hotel, Grian can’t tell if the people outside are stalkers or journalists.

The pictures on the tabloid front pages are no longer stunning shots from the shows, but rather blurry snaps of Grian trying to escape the cameras. Images of Grian, wide-eyed and scared by the surprise of a camera flash, before she could put on a fake smile. Grian, through a window in the parked tour bus, with teary eyes. Even private moments are no longer private.

Media outlets start to pay for more intimate photos- anything the journalists might get fired for trying to snap themselves. It gives the stalkers (there are certainly multiple, now) more incentive. Grian keeps the curtains closed in every building he visits, and draws the tiny blinds on the bus.

Relationship Goals?

In the meantime, Grian’s crush on Scar is getting more obvious, but she’s afraid to say anything. Dragging Scar into this, with all the harassment he would face if they revealed they were together, isn’t what Grian wants. She flinches away when Scar offers a comforting touch, not wanting to risk a photograph.

Scar is the one, then, who takes the initiative. He sits with Grian on her little fold-out bed at the back of the tour bus, all curtains drawn and the door closed. He holds her close and tells her firmly that no one is going to see them here. They're traveling at 50mph on a motorway and no one can even see through the windows anyway. And that's maybe just enough for Grian to let himself lean into Scars touch. Admit his feelings.

There’s a sense of shame he's carrying with them. He shouldn't have fallen for his bodyguard- someone who has to stay with him, contractually. She tries to say as much, going on and on about all the terrible risks Scar is bringing to himself by dating her, but Scar cuts Grian off by kissing her, anyway.

As soon as the media gets a hint of the relationship, things seem to go downhill. Diehard fans don’t react kindly to Grian’s choice of man, especially the ones who want to have her for themselves. Someone throws something at Scar when Grian is leaving a show, hitting him on the head. It isn’t a bad injury, but it bleeds a lot, and Grian only feels worse about it when Scar insists he’s okay.

Actual Bodily Harm

The fans seem to get more… intense. Stalking and threats of harm increase, while the fans' behaviour at shows seems to get worse. As the tour is nearing its final few weeks, people start to throw things onto the stage. The first time it happens, Grian cuts the set short without anyone really noticing. The next time, someone throws a glass bottle, and she walks off.

He tries not to make a big fuss about it, simply leaving without playing a single song. She feels awful, of course, for leaving the normal fans without a show. Perhaps they should refund the tickets, or something. She doesn’t even notice the glass shards in her foot until Scar points them out, horrified.

Pearl convinces Grian to take a picture of the injury and make a PSA post on social media. Even when the adrenaline wears off, Grian’s resulting breakdown seems subdued.

No one throws anything at the next few shows, except for a trans pride flag. Grian wears it as a cape, and feels amazing, for once, hearing the cheers and screams of joy at the gesture. She loves that she can be a symbol of hope and love for so many people. It’s even enough of a boost to get him acting more like himself again in private: mischievous, bright, and creative.

It is near the end of the tour when things go completely, utterly wrong again. Grian and the crew all go to a bar after a show, to celebrate the last week of the tour. Three more shows, and then it’s over. Grian is in somewhat normal clothes, compared to his usual getup, but still puts on his persona just in case they've been followed by the paparazzi (again).

Everyone's having a nice time, drinking a little and hanging out. As always, it is nice to be getting away from the bus. Pearl and Impulse buy far too many shots, much to Mumbo’s dismay. Grian laughs and jokes and raises her voice, not caring if she’s croaky the next day.

He doesn't notice someone watching him from across the room. Doesn't notice them slip something into her drink when she goes up to the bar. She pays for another pint, and they strike up conversation. Giddily, she chats with them, rambling about how good life has suddenly become. As he sips his drink, he doesn’t register how focused on him they are. How their dark eyes don’t leave him once.

It’s fine, until she stumbles, on the way back to the booth everyone's sitting at, and the stranger catches her before she can fall with strong arms. They're talking, but Grian isn't really listening. She’s nodding along and mumbling about needing to get back to the booth. Back to her friends.

It feels wrong. They keep hold of her shoulders. They're saying something about getting her home safe. Something about how they've been waiting for this…

He realises what’s happening far too late. Panic clutches her chest for a split second. Long enough for him to call out for Scar. She's already being manhandled out of the door before Scar comes to her rescue. Thankfully, by a miracle, close enough to hear the cry for help.

Grian knows something happens to the stranger, because they're on the floor and bleeding. Voices buzz, muffled, around Grian. There are more hands on her. She doesn’t like it. Her head hurts. Scar’s hand is bloody as he hugs her. Grian passes out.

Hospital Visit One

The crew, quite obviously, take Grian to the hospital. He was drugged, and it’s clear what the perpetrator wanted to do. It shakes them all, left wondering whether the creep knew who Grian was, or just randomly targeted a drunk stranger on a night out. Either way, none of them want to go near a bar any time soon.

On the way to the hospital, the press capture pictures of Grian unconscious, or half-awake with no awareness, and by the time the morning rolls in, the papers are already speculating about addiction and ‘gone wild’ narratives. When Grian wakes up, still slightly delirious, he's told, hesitantly, by Pearl, that they have to release a statement soon in order to clear his name and control the narrative. Grian can’t find it in herself to cry about what happened.

Before any statements are made, the police come to talk to Grian. They arrested the perpetrator and searched their house, not that it’ll result in much. They show Grian pictures of rope, duct tape, knives, and a poster from her tour.

Feeling numb, Grian takes a moment to go throw up in a bin, then tells her team she wants to make a statement now. She wants it recorded, as she is, now. Pearl and Mumbo try to argue that it really isn't a good idea, without a script and looking… bad, but Scar and Impulse back Grian’s choice. Reluctantly, Mumbo grabs one of the nice cameras from his car- the bus was far too conspicuous to park at a hospital- and they record.

They don't know what Grian’s going to say, but, put basically, the video explains everything that has happened- from the stalkers to the glass to the drugging- and apologises to the fans who did nothing wrong. And even the fans who just wanted to know some gossip, because they weren't really to blame. Then she announces that she's cancelling the rest of the tour.

Mumbo shuts off the camera. Everyone apart from Scar is a bit shocked. Incredulous. Shouldn’t they talk about this? Is it worth it to cancel at the last hurdle? Scar cuts off the protests, pointing out how insensitive it is to try and make Grian perform after everything. Grian stays quiet as Scar somewhat lectures the others. It’s a rambling mess of an argument, but it works. They apologise.

The statement video is posted online, and Grian is left to rest. Scar remains at his side.

Once Grian is checked over and discharged, they get back to the bus fast. She retreats to her closed-off space at the back of the bus, telling everyone to get on with their jobs. Once she's alone, she replays the images the police showed her in her mind. He thinks about what could have happened. He thinks about the stranger's hands on his shoulders and at his hips. She remembers that she started out just wanting to make music, and she cries.

#ben chats shit on the internet #ari au #grian #scarian #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitshipping #im not gonna tag all the warnings just please be smart about this.#long post #im insane. please reblog </3

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hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 5 months ago

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Limelight Series - Chapter 3

Happy Monday Everyone! Here is chapter 3 of the limelight series! If you haven't read chapter two, click here to read it and then come back to read chapter 3.

This series came way of a message/ask from @hobby27 she asked:

"I would love something with Jensen and reader. He sees her when he’s at a convention and he’s bonkers for her. She isn’t so interested in a relationship with him because of the fame. So he has to woo her. Make her understand that he’s not a typical movie/tv star. Slow burn."

So I give you the Limelight series- It's a Jensen x reader (plus size, curvy girl) story, Jensen meets the reader in a bar, he falls fist, she is reluctant of course, but secretly she fell for him the second he walked through the door. So can a small town girl and a celebrity make it work?

Warnings for the whole series: language, multi-pov and switching between the pov mid chapters (sorry I can't help it), Jensen coming off aggressive for a hot second but then cooling off. Some douche side characters and some lovable ones, body shaming, angst, fluff, swoon, Jared is there and Micha is mention.

This story takes place an AU where Jensen is not married but Jared is and has kids.

This chapter is 2K+. Feedback, likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Please don't post as your own work, this is my work. If you would like to be added to my tag list, just ask, I am always happy to add you.

Thanks!

You walk into the lobby at quarter to seven. You are always early for anything, even for things that stress you out all day and make you second-guess everything. You thought about and composed two 'Sorry, have to bail' texts before giving up and swallowing your fears.

James, of course, was sending you constant pep texts all day—after you chewed him out for giving out your number and not giving you the heads-up.

"What! I knew if I told you, you would be mad. And I thought there was no point; he already had it." James tries to justify it over the phone.

"Yeah, but I could have been prepared and not acted like an ass. I am surprised he even suggested a meeting." You reply, pushing your way through the gallery doors and towards your studio in the back.

"Come on, of course, he did. He really does like you. Besides, this is what people call a date Y/N, not a meeting."

"Ha! Like me? He doesn't even know me."

"OK, well, he wants to get to know you. He did some impressive groveling."

"The way I heard it, you sold me out for a signed photo and possibly meeting up with Misha."

"He offered, I wasn't going to pass it up! So where are you guys going tonight?"

Opening your studio with the phone tucked between your shoulders, you struggle slightly but manage to get the door open and the lights on.

"I'm not sure yet. I have until 7 to decide, " you say, somewhat breathless. Tossing your keys on the small table, you go through the room and over to the coffee pot to start it up.

Going through your morning routine, you discuss your options with James before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

****

Pulling your phone out, you look to see if Jensen has sent you a 'sorry, I've got to bail text.' It's 7 pm on the dot, and there is no message.

"Hoping for a bail text?" His low, deep voice filters in through your ears. His breath tickles your neck and pulls you from your thoughts.

Snapping your eyes from the phone, you turn to see him standing there, dressed in dark jeans and a dark purple button-down shirt. His hair is perfectly styled, and his eyes have a slight twinkle, along with the smirk on his face.

Shutting the phone, you slip it back into the pocket of your dark jeans. "No, I'm just checking the time, " you say, trying your best to keep your voice even and confident.

Don't let it show that you're nervous as hell. You look him up and down, taking a step back. "You look nice," you say.

"Thank you, I have this really hot date tonight. I have to impress her. She thinks I am a womanizer." He jokes, giving you a wink.

"You look beautiful as always." Paying back the compliment.

Looking down, you're wearing dark skinny jeans and a gray fitted V-neck sweater under your black moto jacket.

"Thank you, " you say, holding back the slide-dive about yourself that pops into your mind.

You nervously run your hands through your purple pixie hair. "Umm... we should go. There is this great diner a few blocks down…" you start to say, taking a few steps back, but you're cut off by the screaming of fans.

"JENSEN!!!! OH MY GOD, IT'S HIM!!" A few girls walking in the lobby spot you two and start yelling and making a beeline for you two. Well, for Jensen, not you. They push you out of the way and block you from him.

He does his best, smiling, while out of nowhere, two big security guards come up to block the group of girls from tackling him to the ground. Containing the mob, Jensen gives them each fanservice by signing something of theirs and taking a quick photo. The whole ordeal is over in ten minutes.

Once they are happy and the guards move them, Jensen's eyes find you. Leaning up against the back of a chair, you watch the display of fame firsthand. Keeping your face without expression, Jensen can't tell if you're mad.

"You OK?" he questions, standing in front of you.

"Yeah," you reply, keeping your tone neutral. You are not sure if you are or aren't, but what did you expect.

"The bodyguards coming with?" You question, giving them a nod as you now notice them hanging close by. At a glance, you see they are the same two guys who were with him and Jared last night: Evan and Quinn.

"Umm... yeah, sorry," Jensen replies sheepishly. "I promise they will sit at their own table." He added that he hoped this would be OK.

Oh, great, chaperones. I haven't had them in forever. Biting your remark, again, it's not his fault, right?

"Yeah, it's fine." You reply, giving your best smile and looking at them, "You guys like Italian?"

****

The next day after the date, a coffee shop with James-

"So, how was it? Tell me everything!" James asks, setting down his coffee and leaning in towards you. After blowing up your phone with texts early this morning, you finally agreed to meet with him at your favorite small coffee shop in Haven.

"I was promised a free drink with no interrogation to get me to come out." You reply, taking a drink. Giving off a look that reads, 'Don't make me relive that date again.'

"Come on, Y/N, you can't go out with the hottest guy who has ever walked into our bar and not given me details." James wines, sitting back in the oversized chair and giving you his best pout face.

"Oh please, he's not the hottest guy ever, what about…" Trying to divert the conversation away from your date.

"Stop stalling and spill."

Knowing that he will just keep it up, you cave. "Fine, it was fine."

"Just fine, that's all I get. Way to be a buzzkill."

"OK, OK, it was more than fine. It was nice, he was nice. He said all the right things, acted interested when I talked, and didn't keep the conversation only on him."

"But…"

"No, it's nothing. I mean, I knew that it wouldn't be your typical date."

"What do you mean by that? What happened?"

****

Back to the date-

"The restaurant is only a few blocks up." You say, once outside of the lobby and on the street. You start to head that way but stop when you don't hear Jensen or Evan and Quinn following.

You turn to see them standing in front of a black SUV, the door open, and Jensen getting in.

"Yeah, it will be better if we drive there," Jensen says, holding his hand to take yours.

"Really, I mean, it's literally three blocks up. It will take longer to drive there." You say with slight annoyance. Walking back to Jensen.

"If you think the lobby was bad, we'll walk; we'll be lucky to make it before it closes."

Letting out a sigh, "fine." You conceded, taking his hand and getting into the car.

You give Quinn the address and sit back next to Jensen.

"Besides, this will give us a chance to talk with less prying eyes," Jensen says.

He gives you a smile, and his thumb rubs the hand that he is holding. "Is this OK?" He asks.

Pulling your attention to his hand in yours. It feels nice and natural. "Yeah." You reply, looking up at him.

Letting out a breath, "Not sure how much privacy we will have with those two." You quip, nodding your head towards the front.

"Don't worry about them. They know how to fade into the background." Jensen reassures you, bringing your hand to his lips.

"So, what brought you into the city today? Work?"

"Yeah, I have a studio space close by." You reply, feeling yourself flush with the feel of his lips on your skin. Damn, if you're getting flushed by an innocent kiss on the hand, what's going to happen when he kisses you?

"You're an artist? Cool…but I thought James said you are a chef?"

"Oh, yeah, well, it's a long story," you reply, not wanting to get into it right now. You look out to see you parked in front of the restaurant.

"Oh, we're here, " you say, letting go of Jensen's hand, opening the door, and getting out.

Jensen didn't circle back to her career change, picking up that she wanted to avoid discussing it. She would tell him when she was ready; he was sure of it. Unlike the city just outside the door, the restaurant was a cute, cozy space.

This place was not overrun with Jensen's fans, so they could have a nice, quiet dinner without interruptions. It felt like an actual date, even with Evan and Quinn sitting a few tables away.

"Wow, that was amazing food." Leaning back into his chair, finishing off his beer.

"Well, you would take offense if we had gone to a great barbeque joint, you being from Texas." You joke, finishing off your wine and leaning back in your chair.

"Oh, well, we have to go there next time. Maybe bring Jared and Genevieve."

"Yeah, maybe. It's in Haven, so the next time you guys are in for a convention." Don't hold your breath; there will be a next time.

"The convention wraps up in a few days, right? Where are you guys off to next?" You question.

"This was our last stop for a few weeks. So, I am free once we wrap this one up."

"Oh, cool, well, I am sure you're excited to return home."

"I guess I know Jared is; he hates being away from Genevieve and the kids."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Hey, Jensen, we should get you back." Evan's voice interrupts. He is standing beside the table, with Quinn standing slightly behind him.

Jensen looks at his watch and then at Quinn, "I think we're good. Why don't you guys head back? Y/N and I can find our way."

"Sir, I don't think…" Evan starts to protest, but Jensen cuts him off.

"I do. Besides, I think you should be hitting the sack early after last night." Giving him a stare-down that would make anyone think twice about speaking up.

"Come on, Evan. It's three blocks. I am sure they will be fine." Quinn jumps in, trying to placate Evan and diffuse a situation before it starts.

Evan gives Quinn a stare-down before looking back at Jensen and you.

"Fine, let's go, Quinn," he says passive-aggressively. Turned on his heels and walked out the door, not waiting for further orders.

Quinn gives you a half smile before following after his coworker. You watch them walk out and shake your head.

"I feel sorry for Quinn; Evan is an ass." You say, playing with your empty wine glass.

****

Back at the coffee shop with James-

"OK, so yeah, you had to deal with bodyguards? But it sounds like Jensen made a point to make the date feel real?" James states, being on team Jensen.

"Yeah, he did." You agree, finishing off your drink. Waiting for a second, decide whether to keep telling your date's story or leave it there.

"What?" James questions, seeing that there is more to this tale.

"Yeah, let's just say the date should have ended at the restaurant." Your voice is slightly cryptic.

****

Back to the date-

Walking out of the restaurant, the temperature dropped as the sunset. Pulling your jacket close to you, you turn to head towards the hotel. Jensen grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with his.

"We don't have to head back to the hotel right away. It's not like I have a curfew or anything." He jokes.

"I don't know, Evan might send out the National Guard if you're not back soon." You joke.

"Oh, come on, let's do something. Is there any place in the city you would like to go? " he asks, desperate not to have this night end and to return to the hotel room. He wishes he were anywhere else with her.

You can see the hit of despair. Biting on the corner of your lip, trying to think of somewhere to go, his voice breaks your thoughts.

"Please stop biting your lip. It's very distracting, and I am trying to be a gentleman here and not the manhandling ass from last night." His voice was deep and slightly commanding. Giving you a wink, the hit of playfulness takes over.

Letting go of your lip, you have so many thoughts about how to respond.

"You weren't an ass." Your confidence falling you; what you wanted to say was, 'Maybe you should be biting it.'

"Humm…well, if we were in Haven, we could go to Lights Park. Around this time, the dessert trucks move in, and they have a classic old movie playing. The Park has all these amazing light sculptures throughout. It's a fun place to explore."

"Sounds nice; let's go," he says, grabbing his phone.

"I will call Quinn, have him bring the car, and we can go." He swipes the phone open and calls Quinn.

"No, No, Jensen, it's getting late. And I don't want to put Quinn out, to drive us out there." You quickly backtrack your idea. Letting go of his hand, you take a few steps back until your back hits the brick building.

"It's no trouble, really, plus Quinn will just bring us the car he's not coming with," Jensen reassures her, seeing her kindness and thinking of others is taking over.

"Hey, Quinn, can you bring the car to Broadway and Park? We're just a block away. Yeah, we're going to take a drive. No, don't get Evan; you can bring the car." Shaking his head, he rolls his eyes, causing Y/N to giggle.

He hangs up the phone, not waiting to hear more of Quinn's protest and talk about protocols. He would rather listen to Y/N laugh and see that smile back on her face.

"He will be here in two minutes, " he reassures her, giving her a smile and putting his phone away.

Closing the gap that she created, he locks his eyes with her. He takes in her beauty, the sun dipping past the steel buildings and the light wind wrapping her scent of lavender and lilac around him. Bringing his finger to brush her cheek lightly, the city seems to fall away.

"I would really like to kiss you now," he whispers, asking for permission and waiting for her to tell him if he is going too fast. His breath mingles with her; he can feel her heartbeat increase.

She is about to speak when the sound of a camera going off and a flash of light breaks our bubble, and reality forces its way in.

"Jensen, over here! Who's the girl?!" The cameraman yells from the street.

Jensen raises his hand to shield Y/N from the camera. She turns her head away from him, and the lights go off. Suddenly, more cameras show up, and the few people walking on the other sidewalk stop to see the commotion.

"I'm sorry. Let's go," he says, grabbing her hand and walking towards the hotel. Rounding the corner, a mob bigger than the last one is coming towards them.

"Shit!" He says, slight panic sets in. Looking around, hoping to see Quinn and the car, he's nowhere.

He's about to turn and tell her to run when Quinn pulls up and uses the car to block the mob of fans that are running their way. Pulling the door open, he lets her get in first and follows. Telling Quinn to just drive and get them out of here.

"I am so sorry," he keeps repeating. He's desperate and hoping this won't put you off seeing him. It's only sometimes like this.

"It's fine; I get it," she replies, looking at him. "Really, Jensen, I am fine." She gives him a half smile.

"But we should call it a night. God knows I am not the most inconspicuous date you could have." You joke, pointing out your hair and overall appearance.

"Yeah, but I like your look." He responds.

"Quinn, can you drop me off at Park and 25th? " You say, letting Jensen's comment fade. He's just being nice; remember, he doesn't go for girls like you.

To Be Continued.......

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