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phantom-curve · 4 years ago

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did I shatter you? pt. 4

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

The tea in Julie’s mug had gone cold by the time Luke finally sat up properly. His body was hunched over, exhaustion and sadness etched in every line. When he looked up at her she could see the still drying saltwater stains on his cheeks. He reached up to scrub at his red rimmed eyes with the palm of his hand. Julie placed her full mug down on the table, slipping off the couch to sit on the floor in front of Luke.

The light from the fire cast shadows across his face. He looked so forlorn and broken andyoung. Like the Luke that had come running to her after the last big fight with his parents. Like the Luke that had coaxed her out of the darkness of losing her mom. Like the Luke she had fallen in love with when they were just teenagers with the entire world at their feet and stars in their eyes. Her entire being ached. She ached for Luke and herself. For the life they had lost and the pain they had both suffered in silence. If only they had been able to talk like this back then. They might have been able to avoid this past year of anguish. Instead they had hidden behind the band and their lyrics. Too many assumptions, too much hurt and blame, and not enough authentic communication had toppled them like a house of cards.

“Alex and Reggie told me I should call you. Told me I had to fix things, but I didn’t think anything was broken.”

His voice was hoarse, scratchy and raw with emotion. He didn’t reach for her. Just studied her face in the dim light like he was seeing her for the first time.

“God, Julie, what happened to me? How did I become that guy?”

Julie inhaled sharply. He wasn’t really asking her, she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself.

“I don’t know, Luke. It crept up on both of us. I didn’t even see it until it was already a part of our everyday normal. I didn’t know how to stop it by then, we had been living it for so long.”

“It wasn’t just Bobby or any other bullshit excuse though. You’re right, I was cruel to you, and I didn’t even see it. Even at the end, I thought you would come to me because that’s what you always did, and I never once thought that I should be the one going to you. Even though it was always me picking fights and...I just...how could I do that to you? How could I hurt someone I love so much like that?”

His voice was bleak, the expression in his eyes borderline hopeless. It almost sounded like he was begging her to give him the answers. She didn’t have any though. She hadn’t ever figured it out either, and it still stung when she thought about how he hadn’t ever turned that rage on Reggie or Alex. Only Julie got that kind of special treatment.

“I don’t know, Luke.” She repeated.

It was all she could offer him. Her hands flexed against her thighs, desperate to touch him.

“I ruined us, and it was for nothing. I ruined the best thing in my life for nothing.”

The last statement sounded like it was meant more for him than for her. It was filled with rage and guilt and shame. His head dropped. Her chest burned.

“It wasn’t just you.”

She had to be honest. He was opening himself fully. She had to do the same. He raised his head to look at her, confusion and self-loathing clear on his face.

“I was too quick to adapt. When you first started lashing out at me, I didn’t push back. I knew you were hurting, and I wanted to do anything I could to ease that heartache. At first, I let you treat me like that because I thought it was a way to take the pain away. And then I just got so used to it, and I kept taking it until we snapped. It’s not all on you.”

He was shaking his head, frowning and opening his mouth to argue, but this was something Julie was sure of. He was responsible for the brunt of the emotional pain endured during their relationship, but a relationship was more than one person. She had some amount of blame in this too. She cut him off before he could get the first denial out.

“No, Luke, I’m at least a little responsible for this too. I’m not some weak little damsel in distress. I knew what you were doing wasn’t okay, and I let you do it anyway. I changed myself to become a person who would accept that kind of treatment. I put our relationship over my own well-being, and it was wrong. I should have stood up for myself and I didn’t. And then I cut and ran instead of fighting for myself.”

“I shouldn’t have put you in the position to have to defend yourself against me! I should have been the one protecting you, not hurting you!”

Luke’s hands fisted in his hair, body folding over again. Julie couldn’t stop herself anymore. She closed the space between them in seconds, throwing her arms around his body. He didn’t hesitate to catch her, his own arms snaking around her waist as he buried his face in her neck. He sobbed into her skin, the muffled cry of “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” repeating over and over again. She could feel his tears soaking into the collar of her shirt and her arms tightened. His hair still smelled like the peppermint shampoo she used to buy him. Her heart pounded out a familiar rhythm in her chest, the same word repeating in her mind in time with the beat: homehomehome.

They stayed in the embrace for a long moment. A river of comfort flowed back and forth between them. It felt like Luke’s soul was seeking out every frayed edge of her own, smoothing out and repairing the damage that had lingered for the last year. Their bodies shuddered in time, both of them pulling away at the same moment to look into each other’s eyes. Luke looked like a new man, determination shining from his pores.

“What happens now?”

He was asking her, but she already knew what he wanted. She just wasn’t sure she could give it to him. She gently disentangled herself, scooting back just a bit so there was enough space between them for her to breathe. Insecurity reared its ugly head, reminding her of all the reasons they had ended in the first place.

“I don’t know, Luke.”

She sounded like a broken record. Her fingers twitched restlessly. She reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, forcing herself to take a deep breath and try again.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

His eyes lit up, and she pushed on.

“But just loving you isn’t enough. What you did...the way you treated me...I can’t go through that again.”

The light was dimming the more she spoke, but she had to get it all out, even if what she was about to say would undoubtedly hurt him. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I can’t trust you like I used to. You broke something in me, and I still haven’t been able to fully fix it.”

He stared at her for a second before slowly reaching out with his palms up. He left them lingering in the space between them. Heart in her throat, Julie reached out to lay her own hands in his. She looked up from where his thumb rested gently on the back of her hand, eyes locking on his, drowning in the depths of emotion she found there.

“I love you more than anything else in this entire world. More than Sunset Curve and The Phantoms. More than my parents and Alex and Reggie, and I will even tell them that to their faces. There is no me in this world without you. No music worth making, no band worth having, without you by my side. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you whether we’re together or not. You don’t have to forgive me now or ever. You don’t have to take me back. Just give me a chance. Let me earn back your trust. I want my best friend back, Jules. I’ll do anything, just...please, give me a chance?”

Julie’s head swam, pain and fear and hope and love all warring within her, fighting for dominance. It was so hard to think when he was staring at her with those puppy dog eyes, offering her the world. She wanted more than anything to believe him. Wanted to go back to the golden age of their relationship when everything had been so new and shiny and perfect. The memories of how it had ended haunted her. She didn’t think she would be able to repair herself from a second heartbreak at Luke’s hands. He could read the doubt on her face. His hands tightened around hers, pulling her attention back to his face.

“Just a chance, Jules. That’s all I’m asking for. You can give me rules to follow. You can sic Alex and Reggie on me if I start to fuck up again. Hell, I’ll ask them to do it myself. I’ve been a ghost this last year. I don’t exist without you in my life somehow.”

Her heart screamed at her to tell him yes. Her head begged her to be careful. Her soul yearned to be complete the way it had been when Luke was at her side. His eyes pleaded pleasepleaseplease.

“I’m not going to say yes right now...but...maybe...we can try.”

She was cut off by his loud whoop. Without warning, he launched himself at her. He tackled her to the ground, squeezing the air from her lungs, whispering thank you over and over again like a prayer. She wasn’t sure if he was thanking her or the universe.

“Luke!”

She pushed against his shoulders but couldn’t keep the smile from her voice. He pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes, leaving the rest of his body on top of hers. Her skin burned under his touch. His eyes were shining brighter than she had ever seen them before. The smile on his lips nearly took her breath away. She forgot just how pretty he was. She stuttered for a second before forcing herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. She kept her eyes closed, hoping it would help her keep her head.

“You have to be serious about this. I’m willing to try and be friends again, but I’m not making any promises. And I’m not promising that it will ever become anything more than that. I’m gone the second you pull anything similar to that shit.”

He didn’t respond. She slowly peeked her eyes open. His face was inches from hers, something she couldn’t quite identify coloring his features.

“Julie Molina.”

He said her name with a type of reverence that could only be called devotional. A wave of butterflies rioted in her stomach.

“There is nothing that matters more to me than loving you the way you deserve every day for the rest of forever. I know it’s just words now, but I swear, I will never hurt you like that again. If it takes me the rest of my life, I will prove to you that you can trust me.”

Julie felt stunned. She hadn’t ever heard that much sincerity in Luke’s tone before. Hadn’t ever heard him speak with such passion unless it was music related. He was serious. Her heart felt a little lighter, the hole shrinking ever so slightly. He was staring at her with so much love she had no choice to believe him.

“Okay.”

It was just one small whispered word, but they both knew it was more than that. It was an eternity, stretching out in front of them. A new beginning, like the dawning of a clear morning after a night of thunderstorms.

The exhaustion seemed to hit them at the same time. It had been a rollercoaster of a night, the emotional whiplash draining both of them. In another moment of unspoken agreement, Luke stood, offering his hand to Julie, pulling her tight to his side when she was on her feet. He held her for a minute, both of them secretly reveling in the fact that they could finally touch like that again. They moved together to dump their untouched tea in the sink and shuffle into the bedroom they had once shared. Both of them craved the kind of healing they could only find in the other’s arms, even without speaking of it. Julie didn’t let herself linger over the implications, too tired to fight the comfort Luke’s body offered. They fit together seamlessly, bodies relaxing at the homecoming. Julie never realized how big this bed had felt without Luke’s limbs wrapped around her own. For the first time in a year, sleep came easily.

When she woke up the next morning and found Luke in the kitchen making coffee with the sun streaming through the window behind him, it felt like the universe had finally been realigned. There were still wounds to stitch and trust to be earned. Julie didn’t know what would happen with her solo career or the band. Couldn’t be sure that Luke wouldn’t renege on his promises once they left their New York bubble and went back to the snake pit of LA. They weren’t magically back to what they had been, but where there had once only been a dead end, they now had a new path to try. What had once been shattered was now on the precipice of repair, the glue just starting to set. Luke turned to see Julie standing in the doorway and the smile on his face promised a lifetime of atonement and devotion. They had a chance again. Julie stepped into the sunny room, her footsteps marking the first page of their new story.

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

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spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen @sehunniepot (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀)

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance.

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls.

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes.

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks.

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section.

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.

“See anything you like?”

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close.

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.”

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know."

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this."

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry."

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming.

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you."

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer.

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it.

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me? I'll be back for them. Thanks! -Miss Ageist”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time?

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is."

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look.

“Oh, most definitely.”

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?”

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste."

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records.

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know."

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you.

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.”

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny."

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear.

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?”

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls."

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role.

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.”

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.”

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier."

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.”

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window.

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store.

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it.

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter.

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?”

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast.

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks.

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store.

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual.

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you."

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you.

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head.

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby."

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store."

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise."

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?”

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless.

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core.

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight."

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night.

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly.

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening.

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail.

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole.

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel.

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.”

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?”

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.”

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—”

You suck the words out of him. Literally.

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth.

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time.

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom.

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges.

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs.

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure.

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches.

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses.

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air.

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?”

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?”

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?”

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious).

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.”

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly.

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”

EPILOGUE

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk.

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be.

No matter, it always feels amazing.

“Johnny, Johnny—”

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.”

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.”

A silent beat passes.

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...”

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment.

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.

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css1992 · 3 years ago

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Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies – and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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airis-paris14 · 3 years ago

Text

Wonder What She Thinks 5

Summary: She learns to love herself and he loses the best thing he ever had.

Masterlist || 4 || 5 || Epilogue

I wonder what she thinks of me, when you stay awake. After you make love to her, but I’m still on your brain.

- “Wonder What She Thinks of Me” Chloe x Halle

“It’s time!” Shuri jerked her head up from reading the notification on her phone. The King and Queen both paused their conversation, “Now,” Queen Ramonda clarified, her face breaking into a large smile. Shuri nodded excitedly. “Time for what?” T’Challa frowned as his family members stood from the table and began heading out of the room, his mother handing out orders left and right. “Zoe is having the babies!” Shuri beamed before following her mother out of the room. T’Chaka paused, “Why are you not moving. Let’s go, son,” he urged. “Baba,” T’Challa swallowed the knot in his throat, “I can not go.”

“Son-“

“No Baba. Nakia and I are not in a good space right now. I cannot just up and leave to see a woman, who is not my wife, give birth to her children.”

The king shook his head, “T’Challa those twins are yours as well. Your firstborns I might add. I am more than sure Nakia will understand. Nothing is more important than being there for your children. Nothing.” The king insisted. “Baba, I cannot-“

“No T’Challa. You can go but you are refusing. I know it hurts that Zoe-Iman has moved on, but I thought I raised you better than this. You don’t avoid a situation because it is uncomfortable. You don’t avoid a situation because it is messy. And you especially do not avoid your children because you are upset that their mother found happiness with another after you did not treasure her.”

“I need to patch things up with my wife,” T’Challa deflected. “And she will still be here, and just as upset when you get back. However, the birth of your firstborn only happens once T’Challa.”

“Baba! We have to go so we don’t miss anything. Ayo and Okoye are waiting,” Shuri popped her head back in the dining room. “Are you coming too?” She looked at T’Challa. The prince opened his mouth before closing it and shaking his head. “I will let Nakia know where everyone has gone.”

Shuri glared at her brother and shook her head. T’Chaka sighed and walked over to his youngest. “You will regret this T’Challa. Your children may never forgive you if you decide to enter their lives at some point. Which I truly hope you do,” he shook his head before walking out with the scientist.

The future king watched as his family members walked out and let out the breath he’d been holding. He hated that he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with himself, Zoe, or Nakia. While Zoe-Iman had made it clear where she stood in their relationship, the king knew that his heart still belonged to her.

“Where’d everyone go, and why are you crying?” Nakia lifted her husband's chin. He scrambled to wipe the tears he didn’t know had fallen. “Zoe has gone into labor.”

“You didn’t join them?”

“I figured we should talk about what happened last night and seriously try to fix our relationship.”

“T’Challa-“ Nakia raised a hand to stop him, “the truth please.”

“You don’t think we should work on our relationship?”

“T’Challa it has been broken since the moment we said I do. A woman is giving birth to your firstborn child! And you’re standing here looking like ass!”

“She’s having twins.”

Nakia scoffed, “You are unbelievable! Stop using me and this failed relationship as an excuse to avoid facing your fears. Call me to work on this marriage when you grow the fuck up.” The young bride stormed out of the dining room and ran into a servant carrying an armful of baby gifts “I’m so sorry princess, I just-“

“Please it was my fault. Who are the gifts for?”

“The King and Queen had them created for a friend's baby in the states, but they were accidentally left behind. They just messaged asking for someone to bring them along after them.” The staff member explained. Nakia bit her lip and decided to say her next sentence before she could overthink it, “I will take them.”

“Oh my baby,” Phylicia James rushed into the hospital room and pulled her groaning daughter into her arms. “Hi mommy,” Zoe-Iman smiled after her latest round of contractions passed. The older woman grinned and proceeded to smother her daughter in kisses. “I can’t believe my little busy bee is having a baby.”

“Busy bee?” Michael grinned sitting up in the armchair he’d been half-heartedly following a football game from. “Don’t start with me Jordan,” Iman warned as her boyfriend raised his arms in defeat. Zoe’s mom walked over to the young man and flicked him in the head before giving him a hug. “Be kind to my baby. One day you gonna want her to push your big-headed kids out. So you need this to go as smoothly as possible.”

“Where’s daddy?” The mother to be asked as she waved a hand, signaling for someone to help her sit up. “Probably still trying to find a park.” Phylicia glanced out the window once Michael stood to help her daughter shift in the bed. “It’s gotten crowded?”

“Nope, Geoffrey is just very particular about who gets to park next to old Heathcliff.” Mrs. James rolled her eyes and took a seat on the window sill. Eyeing the way the actor helped her daughter through the contractions that had just set in. He was rubbing her hand and back as she squeezed, breathed, and groaned her way through the birthing pre-game.

“Did you let T’Challa know you were in labor?”Zoe nodded as Michael helped her get comfortable in the bed. “I text Shuri on the way over here. She said they were in their way. It’ll be a couple of hours yet.”

“You’re still not talking to that boy directly?” Phylicia frowned. “He has a wife, mama. He didn’t wanna share his number but the rest of his family wanted to be in contact.”

“So you don’t know if he’s coming?”

Zoe shook her head, “but we’ll be fine either way. I got me and my babies. I got you and Michael and daddy. Their other grandparents and their uncle. They got enough, they don’t need T’Challa.” Zoe’s mother glanced at Michael as he continued to rub her daughter's back. Their glance said it all, Zoe’s face said it all; she was lying. It would crush her if T’Challa missed this. She wanted her children’s father to be there. To hold them and to bond. It was killing her that she had no control over whether or not he would show up.

Zoe tried to secretly wipe away the tears that had gathered as her mother sighed, “Well where are my other daughters?”

“Kenois went to get lunch and Sylia had another patient go into labor too,” Zoe explained. Her mother moved to take a seat at the foot of the bed. “Are you hungry? Did you eat something?”

“Not yet, we were out at dinner when everything started. Kenny is supposed to be bringing me something back.”

“Why didn’t you go,” Phylicia raised an eyebrow at her future son-in-law. “She said I was the only person who wasn’t annoying her,” the actor laughed. “It’s true. I was this close to ruining my friendship with Kenois and I need my job.”

“Girl,” Kenois kissed her teeth as she walked back into the room. “Hey mama,” she hugged Mrs. James before handing the couple their food. “She always over exaggerating. I was just trying to get her to walk around to help with the pain.”

“And I said I wanted to stay in bed,” Zoe mean mugged Kenois as she took the chair Michael was originally sitting in.

“Babycakes, walking could do you and those little ones some good. Help gravity guide them out,” mama James butted in. “Why do you always take Keni’s side? I’m your real daughter,” Iman pouted as her mama held out her hands to pull her upright. “Cause I’m right more often.” Kenois grinned as she stuck out her tongue.

Phylicia shook her head at the girl’s antics, “I swear you two fight like you actually shared a womb.”

“Knock, knock.”

Everyone in the room looked up as the young African Princess and her parents walked into the room. “We didn’t miss anything right?” The teen walked over to give Zoe a hug and her parents followed suit. “Nope it’ll probably be a few hours yet,” Zoe Iman smiled, pulling each member of the family into a hug. She glanced at the door behind them before looking back to the king and Queen. It felt as though the air itself held its breath until the king sighed and shook his head.

“He sends his sincerest regrets that he could not be here. He had an urgent matter to attend to-"

“You do not have to make excuses for him, your majesty if he chooses not to be here. He chooses not to be here. You all made the time and that truly means the world to me, and these children,” Zoe offered a sad smile and caressed her swollen stomach. Queen Ramonda gripped Zoe’s hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes before Phylicia James cleared her throat.

“Right Mama, this is Her Majesty Queen Mother Ramonda, His majesty King T’Chaka, the brave, and Her Royal Highness Shuri Udaku, of Wakanda. T’Challa’s mother, father, and sister respectively.” Zoe introduced and the two mothers met for a quick hug. “It is so very nice to meet you,” Ramonda smiled. “Zoe talks so highly of you all the time. “Same here, it is an honor your majesty,” Mama James replied. “Please, we are family, No formalities required,” King T’Chaka insisted and Ramonda agreed.

Shuri took a seat at the edge of the bed while the rest of the introductions were made. Soon Zoe-Iman’s father and brother had joined the group and everyone was settled in various places around the spacious private suite. The royal family had made the arrangements as the room needed to be secure for their attendance. Ayo and Okoye stood watch at the door as the hours ticked past. Finally in a whirlwind of screaming, groaning, pushing, and wailing two beautiful babies were brought into the world later that afternoon.

After more hours of cuddling, kissing, passing, loving, and feeding her lovely newborn son and daughter Zoe, and the babies drifted off to sleep. When she awoke again the only other person in the room was King T’Chaka who was now comforting a fussy baby boy in his arms. “I would like you to name him,” Zoe broke the silence a few minutes later, startling the king. He smiled and gently placed the baby back in the hospital bed. “How are you feeling my dear?”

“I am fine. Just a little sore. Where did everyone go?”

“To grab something to eat. Michael just went down to the cafeteria before it closed. The others went to some restaurant Shuri was eager to try. Your mother said she would bring you back something to eat.”

Zoe nodded and the king helped her to sit up. “You were not hungry?”

The king smiled, “My future son-in-law, by proxy, offered to bring me something back. I knew he was tired too so I told him to stay and eat his food before coming back up. It was a miracle to even get him to go that far from you. I like that young man. He is a keeper eh?” Zoe laughed and nodded her head.

“You have made me so proud today Zoe-Iman James. You have given me my first grandchildren. My heart is overflowing and I could never thank you enough. You have made this old man feel young again.”

Zoe smiled, “No thanks are needed. Besides you doing me the honor of naming your grandson.”

“Are you sure, that is his father’s job or your father’s job?”

You are the closest thing here to T’Challa. Probably the closest thing this child will have to T’Challa. You know your son’s heart, and I know you will do his wishes for the naming of his firstborn son well.”

Tears filled T'Chaka's eyes, “Then you will have to give me time to think of the perfect name, my child.”

Zoe grinned. “I have to name them by tomorrow morning for the birth certificate.”

“I shall have a name for you then.”

“May I come in?” Nakia stepped into the doorway before her conscience could stop her again. “Nakia, what a surprise?” The king glanced at Zoe who nodded that she could come in. “I came to bring the gifts you all left behind. For the babies.” The Princess stuttered slightly. Moving closer to the woman who had just given birth to her husband's children. “Thank you, to both of you,” Zoe smiled, hoping to reassure the woman that she was okay with her presence, “this was very kind.”

“I was also hoping that Zoe-Iman and I could talk?”

T’Chaka glanced at Zoe who nodded before he stood. He placed the gift basket with the others before heading for the door. “I’ll join Michael in the cafeteria. Just call if you need anything. Though you are in good hands with Nakia,” the king patted the young bride’s back then took his leave.

The women stared at each other in silence before Nakia spoke, “They are beautiful,” she smiled down at the babies.

“I know. I cannot believe they are mine. Or that there are two of them.” The young women laughed. “I hope there are no ill feelings between us. There are none on my end,” Nakia started.

“There are none on my end either,” Zoe reassured. “You are probably wondering why I came,” Nakia broke the silence that had formed once more. “It had crossed my mind.”

“After they left T’Challa told me that you had gone into labor. I know that T’Challa being here was the best-case scenario but, I know that technically I am the babies’ stepmother and I wanted to be here for them. To support them. I know they have a lot of support already, but I wanted you to know that I am on their team as well. When they see me I will love and take care of them as if they were my own. No matter what T’Challa decides to do.”

The new mother smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks, “Stupid hormones,” she sniffed as Nakia giggled. “Thank you, truly. These children are more loved than I could ever have imagined.”

“And forever that way it shall stay,” Nakia glanced at the sleeping newborns, “forever it shall stay.”

“Would you like to hold one?” Zoe asked as she noticed the woman glancing at the gurgling newborns.

“Oh I couldn’t-“

“Yes you can,” Zoe smiled, “I trust you. I see how you stare at them with nothing but love in your eyes.”

Nakia teared up as Zoe had her pulled the cribs closer so she could lift the babies out. She lifted her daughter and pressed a kiss to her small forehead, “I haven’t told anyone but Michael yet, her name is Ka’aulani.” Zoe rocked the infant before placing her gently in Nakia’s hands.

“That is beautiful.” Zoe watched silent tears fall as Nakia interacted with the infant. “Nakia, are you alright?”

The woman laughed and wiped her eyes, “I just am overwhelmed for I fear I may never have this moment myself.”

“Why do you say that? I am sure T’Challa would not mind giving you a child.” Zoe reassured leaning over to fix the blanket around the baby once Nakia had taken a seat. “I am sure he wouldn’t,” the princess laughed dryly, “however it is me that is not so sure she wants to have a child with him. He has changed. The old T’Challa would move hell and high water to be here. This new prince, he makes excuses to protect himself. Any child we make would not be created out of love. I don’t want him to be there just because he feels obligated because we are married. I’ve only ever wanted to make a child out of love. Like these precious ones.”

Zoe nodded, “I am not sure how much these two were made out of love. It seemed more like alcohol was responsible for these two.”

“What do you mean?”

“T’Challa and I were both drunk-“

“T’Challa cannot get drunk,” Nakia frowned. Zoe laughed at her straight face, “He may want you all to believe that but he was all the way messed up. Stumbling all over the place, rambling about wanting to marry me and everything-“

“Zoe, if he said that, it was not the alcohol speaking. T’Challa can drink enough for 30 grown men and still only feel a slight buzz. I know this sounds crazy but now is not the time and place to explain. Just now that our country’s rulers are given a special ‘miracle drug’ if you will that helps their bodies function better than most humans.”

“So T’Challa was completely sober when that night happened?”

“Yes, and if you were drunk, he knows better than to take advantage-“

“I wasn’t,” Zoe interrupted, turning to hide her face. “You were not drunk either?”

“No, I just said that cause it was easier than admitting the truth. Do you know how it feels to give in to someone who you swore would never get to be in your presence again?”

Nakia nodded and looked up from the sleeping infant in her arms, “I married him.”

The room fell into silence again. “I forget how similar our situations really are.”

“Similar but not the same. He is truly in love with you. I highly suspect he always will be.” Nakia readjusted the baby in her arms.

“There will always be love for him in my heart but I have moved on. I’m starting a new chapter. I am in love with Michael.”

“I can tell, “Nakia giggled, “At the wedding, it looked more like you two were newlyweds. Dancing out on the balcony in your own little world.”

Iman blushed, “He makes me extremely happy.” She reached into the blanket and fished out her daughter's fist that’d she began waving in her sleep.

“I hope that I find something that magical one day,” Nakia sighed, “and finally get to have the family I want.”

Zoe pulled Nakia in for a hug. “These two are here for you to visit anytime you would like. If T'Challa is not treating you how he should, I say leave him. I know it is not that easy and I cannot pretend to know the stress and pressure you are under as a member of the royal family, and it may be the American in me, but you deserve a happy life too.”

Nakia nodded and smiled as Ka’aulani wrapped her tiny hand around her pointer finger and yawned. “I will think about it.” Naki smiled at Zoe before both of their attentions were pulled by Zoe’s crying baby boy.

“Aww baby,” Zoe cooed before another male voice interrupted her. “Aht Aht! You are supposed to be in bed.” Michael frowned as he placed the food bags on the counter. “And what just let my baby scream his lungs out?”

“He just needs him a little Mikey. I got this,” the actor cradled the infant in his arms and rocked him back and forth. “See?” He grinned as the little boy opened his eyes and stared up at the man. Zoe shook her head and scooted back into the bed. “Nakia,” Michael offered a somewhat confused greeting once he noticed the princess cuddling the twin in front of him. “Nice to see you again Mr. Jordan.”

“Likewise, is T’Challa here?”

“No,” Nakia shook her head, “I come alone but I must confess that I did indeed try to persuade him. But it looks like the twins have an amazing father figure already.”

“I will do my best,” Michael grinned and bounced the young boy in his arms. “So when will you make an honest woman out of my friend?” The future queen teased as the young couple broke into laughter. “As soon as she lets me,” the man grinned and Zoe rolled her eyes.

“Oh lord. Don’t get him started. He already told everyone to call me Mrs. Jordan at all of my appointments.”

“I think it’s cute,” Nakia smiled.

“I just wanna be back to my old figure before we even embark on that journey,” Zoe smiled watching her lover and newfound friend cuddle her children.

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” Michael pressed a kiss to her lips and Nakia felt her heart soar at the fact that Zoe had found someone to love her. At that moment, she knew what she needed to do.

“Nakia?” King T’Chaka called.

“My king,” the princess stood and bent her head slightly to acknowledge the King’s presence.

“May I speak with you in the hall for a moment?”

The princess laid the baby girl in Zoe’s arms and let Michael take her spot on the bed. “Yes, my king?” Nakia shut the suite door behind her.

“I owe you an apology. I pressured myself, your father, and T’Challa into believing you were the only option and robbed you of the chance to a happy marriage. For that, I could never apologize enough.”

“It is okay. I still made the decision to go along with it. Even when I realized T’Challa was not in love with me.”

“You made the choice out of a feeling of duty and responsibility. That is not how you choose a spouse. In three days the 90-day annulment agreement is off the table. If you wish to leave T’Challa and this marriage, I wrote a loophole into the contract. It will be done quietly and you will be allowed to retain all that you have and your place in the royal family if you so choose.”

Tears welled in Nakia’s eyes. She threw her arms around the king and cried, “Thank you.”

The king pulled back, “Go and be happy dear girl. You only have one life to live. Make the decisions that are best for you.”

“My prince,” a servant knocked on T’Challa’s office door and he waved her in. “Your mother is requesting your presence at a hospital in America.”

The man rubbed his forehead, “Please tell my mother I am not planning to join them on this family excursion-“

“But my prince,”

“Please. That is all I have to say on the matter-“

“Forgive me for interrupting but it is your father. He is not doing well. She wishes that you join them to say goodbye, kumkani wam.”

The blood drained from T’Challa’s face when the staff member addressed him as the king for the first time. With those two words, she said everything he needed to know.

“Have Oneka ready a jet-“

“She is already waiting and a bag has been packed as well.” T’Challa nodded and jogged on to the hey as servants paused to bow to him, their first acknowledgment of him as a king.

“Why won’t they bring him here?” T’Challa asked his co-pilot Oneka as they lifted off into the sky minutes later.

“From what Okoye has reported, he is refusing. He wants to spend his final hours with his children and grandchildren. He also is saying that he has unfinished business at the hospital.”

“Unfinished business?”

“No one is quite sure but I am almost positive it has something to do with his new grandchildren.”

“So I assume you know what is truly going on at the hospital?”

“Ayo and Onoye made me aware a while ago at the king's request. I am to be in charge of the children’s security when they are here on Wakandan soil.”

“I am glad, they could not be in better hands.”

The woman nodded, “I am grateful for the compliment but I disagree. The best hands they could be in are yours. Yet you are here with me.”

T’Challa’s face hardened, “That is none of your concern.”

The rest of the hour-long plane ride went by in silence, with the new father staring out of the window. He thanked the warrior after she walked him up to his father’s room. “I am going to go see the babies. Ayo is already inside.” Oneka bowed her head before sheathing her spear and walking off down the hall.

The son took a deep breath before pushing open the door to his father’s room, “Baba?”

“Uyana wam,” the king pushed himself up in the bed. T’Challa rushed to help him up the rest of the way. “Where are mama and Shuri?”

“I sent them back to keep Zoe and the babies company so we could talk alone.”

“What happened,” T’Challa pulled up a chair to his father's bedside, “you were fine when you left.”

“The official diagnosis is a blood clot in my brain, but Bast has visited me and I know that my time is near. I will not walk out of this hospital alive T’Challa, and I want to right my wrongs. My last wrong, being you.”

“What-“

“I gave you the idea that an outsider could never be a good match. But after meeting Zoe-Iman, I am glad to say that I was wrong T’Challa. I am not saying go win her back. I have seen how happy she is and she is like a daughter to me. Therefore I see it as my duty to protect her from knuckleheads who will hurt her, my own son included. You will find another love T'challa. But those children you created, need a father. I would hate to pass on and think my discouragement led to them missing their father.”

“Baba I can’t-“

“You can and you will. As your king, I command it.” T’Chaka leaned back on his pillows and grabbed a letter off of his bedside. “Since you were not present, Zoe asked me to name your son in your place. But you are here now. If you would like to name the baby, then by all means go ahead, but please deliver that letter to Zoe. If you choose not to name the baby it outlines the name I have chosen. Either way. My dying wish is that you join those children’s lives now and love them like a father should. Train them in the Wakandan ways so that you may experience the joy I have had simply holding them as a grandfather.”

The king held the letter out for his son who took it and stared as if it might detonate at any moment. “Take it, I want you to see those babies. Goodbye Uyana wam. Kiss my grandchildren goodbye for me.”

Tears streamed down T’Challa’s face as he shook his head, “Baba please,” he croaked as the king closed his eyes one final time. Nurses, doctors, his mother, Shuri, and guards rushed into the room as the king flatlined. His son’s tears soaked the sheets and Ramonda had to move him away so the professionals could do their job.

Shuri pulled her older brother into a hug as their mother went to kiss her husband goodbye before he was rolled out of the room. Once T'Chaka was rolled out of the room towards the jet for his final flight home she noticed the envelope in his hand.

“What is this?” The queen grabbed the envelope from her son but he stopped her, “He wrote it for Zoe. She asked him to name the babies.”

“I’m going to go say goodbye, so you can see Zoe alone,” Shuri wiped her face stepping back from T’Challa’s hug. “I’m right behind you” the mother turned back to her son, “Make him proud. Be the man he knew you could be.” She patted the new king’s cheeks.

T’Challa thumbed with the flap of the envelope while trailing behind his mother and sister. Laughter caught his attention and he found himself peering through the hall windows into Zoe’s room. The love of his life was nestled in between the legs and arms of another man, his wife was holding his daughter as his mother pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Shuri was rocking the infant wearing a blue cap. His son. Sadness and happiness flooded his heart in equal parts. Before the scene could do irreparable damage he knocked on the door and fiddled with the envelope.

“Challa,” Zoe called, sadness laced the curves of her voice and the king knew that he couldn’t look up and face her pity for too long. “Iman,” the king moved closer in the room. “Before my father passed, he wrote this for you and the babies. I do not know what it says but he was adamant that made it you.”

“Thank you. Did he mention the name?”

“He said his answer was enclosed in the letter.”

Zoe nodded and everyone looked up at the king expectantly. He walked over to his mother, sister, and wife. He smiled, caressed each of the babies' faces, and pressed a kiss to their foreheads before moving back. “Thank you,” he turned to Zoe, trying to fight the frown on his face at seeing Michael kiss her forehead to comfort her. “They are beautiful.”

Zoe offered a small smile. “I will be waiting in the jet.” The king turned on his heel and strolled quickly out of the room. Nakia sighed and handed Ka’aulani to her mother. Shuri placed the baby boy in Iman’s other arm before pressing a final kiss to his small head.

“That was probably the best he could muster. You two get some rest and we will let you know about the homegoing celebration tomorrow.” Ramonda sighed and pulled Zoe into a hug of her own and placed a kiss on her forehead. She ran a finger over each of her grandchildren’s faces before leading the way out to the jet. “Wait,” Shuri poked her head back in the room. Your son, what is his name?”

Zoe waved the letter, “We will have to ask your father.”

“Give me my niece and nephew,” Shuri pulled the week-old babies from their carriers once the family was alone in the castle once more. T’Chaka’s funerals had been a days-long celebration of his life. Wakandans rejoiced at his transition to an ancestor and prepared for the coronation of a new king.

T'Challa was nowhere to be found but Ramonda chose to focus on the little ones her daughter was cuddling close. Her heart hurt for the loss of her husband, but she took comfort in having the babies close as their arrival was on his lips and smile until he took his last breath. “Thank you all for coming,” the Queen Mother smiled. “Of course, we wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I am just glad the doctors here were able to get me back on my feet in time.” Zoe-Iman brushed her daughter's hair back. Michael nodded in agreement and pulled his girlfriend in closer. “Did you ever figure out the name situation?” Shuri bounced the babies gently. “Yeah, meet Ka’aulani Akhona Udaku and Meluzmi Bathandwa Udaku.”

What do they mean?” Ramonda smiled at the thought she knew her daughter-in-law and husband had put into the children’s names. “Ka’aulani Akhona means the sacred royal gift. And King T’Chaka said Meluzmi Bathandwa means the beloved who represents home.”

Tears pricked Ramonda’s eyes. “That was almost T’Challa’s name. He always said he would give it to his first grandson,” the queen smiled and Zoe moved over to hug her. “He tried to insist I choose someone else, but I knew he would do my son justice.”

Michael cleared his throat, “he also gave me this letter addressed to the both of you.”

The actor handed the letter to the queen as she frowned. The babies started fussing and Zoe went to feed them in the corner. “Zoe-Iman,”

T’Challa stood in the doorway, “May I talk to you?”

“Sure,” Zoe handed her daughter off to Michael, before following the king down the hall into his office. T’Challa held open the door as the mother of his children and an estranged best friend walked through the door. “It looks nice,” Zoe ran a hand over the upholstered chairs placed in front of the large window. “Thank you.”

“You should put some pictures up. Make it feel more homey.”

“What is wrong with it how it is?”

“It feels stiff. You’re here, but it’s a shell of you.”

“You sound like Nakia.”

Zoe shrugged,” She’s known you for a long time. That’s why you married her right? You two were close as children?” T’Challa took a seat in his chair, “We are getting a divorce.”

“I am sorry, I did not know. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly,” T’Challa slipped off his sandals,” Relieved. I hated making Nakia unhappy. Maybe it is best that I am alone right now.”

“You are never alone,” Iman interrupted, “ We are all still here for you, especially right now during this time.”

“I know, I have a lot to rediscover. A lot to learn, about being a father, an ex-husband, a king, and a better friend. I am truly sorry for how I treated you, Zoe. I should have been there for you as a friend and as the father of our children.”

Zoe nodded, “I know, but like I told you. That was a promise to your children, not me. They need actions, not words.”

“I know, that is why I wanted to talk. I will be publicly claiming the twins as my heirs at my coronation. That will mean that they will have to spend part of the year here, with me. I want them to spend part of the year here with me. I will come and visit now since they are too young but we will have to-”

Zoe teared up and wrapped T’Challa in a hug, “I’ll do whatever it takes. I trust you, and I want nothing more for them to love and know you.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa sniffed when Zoe pulled back from the hug. “Of course, I would never keep them from you-”

“No, I mean...you have no reason to trust me after all the mess I put you through, but you do and I can do nothing but thank you and work to make my children proud. To make you and my father proud.”

“You will, we all just want to see the old T’Challa come back. For you to find happiness again.”

“We will see, but for now, my children are enough.”

“Then you should meet them properly.” Zoe reminded and the king stood and slipped on his shoes. “I know. I had been thinking, and it is okay if you’re not comfortable, but I could give you and Michael a break. For the night before you all head back tomorrow afternoon. The twins can stay here with me. Mother and Shuri helping of course.”

Zoe smiled, “I think that is a great idea, but something is missing.”

“We have a nursery and you can pump-”

“No, but I think you should at least know the babies’ names and hold them before you decide to have them over for the night. Not that I don’t think you will like them or vice versa, but what will you call them when they are crying if you don’t know them and they don’t know you?”

T’Challa frowned, “I hadn’t thought of it.”

“That is why they have a mother and a father. It is all easily fixed if you’d come to see the rest of the family. Everyone is worried about you, isolating yourself.”

The couple trailed out of the office and back down the hall to the living room, “I know, but I was dealing with the guilt of my actions. I just needed some time to wade through and process how I was feeling.”

“It is always hard losing a father T’Challa. We understand and we are just trying to help.”

“I know, but it was just not about my father… I lost the love of my life as well.”

“T’Challa-”

“I am not trying to win you over, I am just giving you an explanation. It was a selfish move, but it hurt so bad to see you happy and in love. To see another man treating you how I should have been doing. However, I am happy you are receiving the love you deserve.”

Zoe nodded, “Thank you. I’m truly happy and that means a lot.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

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floralguccistyles · 4 years ago

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epilogue

...he probably loves you

After four months of dating Niall, our families and friends still couldn’t believe it.

Apparently, Niall’s feelings had only been apparent to my sisters, because when we told our parents that we were dating, they had stared at us with supportive confusion. Niamh had mourned the loss of the five hundred dollars four our Jamaica trip, but she had thrown an arm around my shoulders and congratulated me. And then, in a surprising turn of events, had started crying when Patrick announced he couldn’t contain himself anymore and proposed to her shortly after Niall and I had made our announcement.

Niall had just smiled his beautiful smile at me and pulled me closer into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’ve just realized!” His mom shouted in the middle of our movie. It was Greg’s pick tonight, so naturally he had chosen a Disney movie that Theo would actually be interested in. His wife had already dozed off to sleep, pregnant with number two and according to Greg, “unable to stay awake for more than five minutes.”

“Christ, Mum,” Greg complained, jumping from her loud exclamation.

“We can get Rose and Niall couples gifts for their birthdays!”

Niall raised his brow. I was curled up against him, my own eyes falling shut every couple of moments. The new job working for Eric’s brand was exhilarating and exciting, but it was a lot of work getting a start up business off the ground. Often, I would come home late and simply collapse on my couch while Niall took pity on me and made me dinner.

“Mum, our birthdays are five days away. Have you not gotten us anything yet?” he joked, his thumb running back and forth across my arm.

“You’ve always been hard to shop for,” his mum said simply, waving us off, her brain looking like it was going a million miles a minute with the new possibility of a couple’s present. “Not you though, Rose. You’re an angel to shop for.”

I grinned up at Niall. “I’m an angel,” I whispered.

His nose wrinkled. “Whatever.” But he quickly kissed my nose, ignoring Violet’s protest against PDA.

Violet was sitting on the floor by my feet, her nose buried in her phone as she waited on a text from the cute guy in her summer anatomy class she had a crush on. She had been hesitant to tell me about him, but three weeks ago, at one of our weekly-Thursday lunches, she confessed that he’d asked her to study with him. After hearing that, I had pushed and demanded she show me a picture and tell me his name.

He seemed nerdy and sweet. His name was Arjun, and he had helped her study for the final, where he stammered his way through the entirety of their study session before blurting out that he thought she was pretty and wanted to take her on a date.

They had been texting each other back and forth since.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this,” she had told Lily and I while we gushed over how cute it was that she had a crush on someone, especially after her good friend started dating the last guy she’d had feelings for.

Lily, on my other side, was leaning on the arm of the couch, her eyes slowly blinking in and out of sleep. She officially had her law degree and was going through what her coworkers lovingly called “Hell Year.” Her first year of being a lawyer and dealing with all the shitty cases was getting to her. However, she still managed to drag herself to our weekly lunches and had even mentioned that she had decided to go on a weekend getaway to London with Carmen, her coworker.

Violet caught me looking at her phone and shielded it from my view. I just playfully kicked her side.

After the movie, Niall drove us back to my apartment. It was nothing special, just a one bedroom, one bath. But it was mine. And while I still didn’t sleep all the way through the night except on the nights when Niall stayed over, I was working on it. I unlocked the door and let the both of us in, kicking off my shoes and flipping the light switch on.

Before I could take another step, Niall’s arms were around my waist and his mouth was on mine. I would never get tired of his kisses, of the way his hands would tease under the hem of my shirt and touch my heated skin. He always kissed with an eagerness, the kind of happiness that only someone who had been in love for a long time possessed.

“It’s so hard to sit next to you at family functions,” he sighed out against my lips. I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Unlike my mother, I already got your birthday gift.”

“If you say my birthday gift is sex with you, I might actually have to hit you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That would be your birthday gift to me, Rosebud.”

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. We hadn’t taken that final leap into our physical relationship yet. He was cautious and I was still unsure it was something I was ready for after my incident with Kent. The group I had been attending had been a huge help and I got coffee with Wendi and Carlos (two sexual assault survivors I had met and befriended at group) occasionally. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered if I would ever truly get over it.

And I wondered if Niall resented that.

He saw the look on my face and his smile melted away. “I didn’t mean it like that, Rosebud. You know that,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I know,” I replied, “I know. I’m sorry I’m a piece of work.”

He shook his head, his arms encircling me and pulling me into his body. “You are not a piece of work. You’re the girl I love and will continue to love, no matter what boundaries you set. You know that. Nothing could make me love you less.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. Every time he told me he loved me, I got butterflies in my stomach and my lungs stopped working properly. “You staying over tonight?”

“If you want me here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I always want you here, Niall.”

He kissed me again, his lips soft and gentle. “Mind if I shower really quick?”

“Go ahead. I’m gonna make some hot chocolate.”

I watched him walk up the stairs, a smile on my face when he turned back to wink at me. When I heard the shower start up in ym small bathroom, I turned towards my kitchen and grabbed two disposable coffee cups and a Sharpie. Niall liked his hot chocolate made with the little chocolate sticks I bought at the store, so I poured milk into the saucepan and heated it before depositing one of the little sticks inside. He was also a big baby who demanded the little marshmallows, so I grabbed the bag from my pantry and set them on the counter to add to his drink later.

My heart was pounding. I had been planning this for a while, but just tonight felt confident enough to do it. So I poured his hot chocolate into his cup with shaking hands and raised the Sharpie to the side of the cup, scribbling down the message. I still had pictures of all the notes he’d written me, including the one from this morning, when he had written “love you more than you know, Rosebud.”

And he did. He loved me more than I could ever comprehend. The four months being with him, he had never failed to show me just how much. He held me when I woke up with a nightmare, kissed me on the forehead when I was frustrated with work, held my hands when I got home from group. But I’d realized the things he’d done for me before, too. Like picking me up when Lily couldn’t, staying on the phone with me when I asked it of him, always making me laugh.

Niall Horan truly loved me. More than I’d ever been loved.

And I needed him to know that his feelings were reciprocated.

I heard him before I saw him. He was loud as he walked over my hardwood floors, chattering on about some thought he had in the shower. I should have been a better girlfriend and listened properly, but my hands were still shaking and I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest and run away. I turned, catching sight of him in his comfy black sweats and a white tee with that signature grin on his face.

“I forgot my shampoo at my place, so I used yours and now I smell like a lovely lilac spring.”

Just like that, my nerves evaporated. I didn’t know how Niall did that, make me so sure of myself, but he did. This man loved me. And I loved him. He deserved to know how much and not have me chicken out at the last minute.

I walked over to him, giving him a little sniff. “Very nice, very manly.”

“Nothing manlier than using my girl’s shampoo. Just shows how much I love her.”

“Is that what it does?” I asked playfully, reaching his cup out towards him. He took it in his hand, bringing it up to sip at it.

“Hey, you put in the little marshmallows this time,” he commented happily, taking another drink before he pulled the cup back. His large thumb covered my small writing, but he caught the tail of the ‘y’ and maneuvered his hand so he could read it. I saw the moment the words caught up with him, the moment he registered what I had written.

I love you more than you know.

“Rosebud…” His voice was delicate, like it could shatter in a single moment. “Do you mean it?”

In lieu of a response, I took the hot chocolate cup out of his hands and set in on the coffee table. I grasped his face in my hands, giving him a watery smile. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he breathed out. I felt honored and cherished when I saw the tears in his eyes just from my simple confession. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So much.”

The earth could have collapsed around us. The ground could have opened up and swallowed us whole. All that mattered was Niall as he surged forward and kissed me hungrily, his tongue delving into my mouth to tangle with mine. His hands were tightly wound in my hair, but didn’t pull or tug. He just held me there, like if he let me go I would dissipate. He’d never kissed me like this, but I’d never kissed him when he was a Niall who knew how much I loved him. And he’d never kissed the Rose that had finally stopped running and admitted her feelings to him.

“My birthday present to you feels shitty now.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “This wasn’t your birthday gift.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “This was more. So much more.”

He kissed me again, his touch sure and unwavering. “Thanks for loving me, Rosebud,” he whispered, repeating my words from so many months ago.

So I decided to repeat his back. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, Niall.”

Oh my god. Wildflower is over. I cannot believe this. This started as a random thought in my head one day because I needed a good friends to lovers but with a twist, and suddenly Rose was born. This is the first story I’ve finished on this blog and will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you to everyone for reading this little story and for all your support. I refuse to let go of Niall and Rose forever, so don’t be surprised if I write little drabbles for them, but I’m excited for what the future holds in terms of my writing.

I give one big giant virtual hug to all of you. You don’t know how much you guys mean to me.

#wf #wildflower #1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au

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zigtheeortega · 4 years ago

Text

thieves in the shadows

part one | read on ao3

pairing | mal x mc [but other pairings could be implied]

word count | 6.5k

warnings | this is a crime au, so there are quite a few warnings. violence, blood, knives, guns, police, criticisms of religion etc. my mc is a detective in this series.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @jaxmatsuo, @pantcmime

author’s note | so for the last day of blades week, the lovely @pixelsandkink hosted a sleepover and one of the questions were “what type of au’s would you like to see?” and the idea of a crime au wormed its way into my brain and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! i tried to get the whole story done by epilogue day for @bladesappreciationweek but i only managed part one, so more’s to come – i really hope you like it !!! disclaimer: i had to make the names a bit more realistic since they’re human in this au, so tyril is ty, imtura is immy, and my mc zilyana is yana. another disclaimer: people hc imtura as black so she’s written as such in this fic!

•─────────────────•

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

before she could edge around the shield of crates to take her aim, the cold steel of the blade dug into the skin at the base of her throat.

“well, well,” the voice said. “you seem to be in a bit of a bind, detective nightbloom.”

––––

when she first got assigned to the case, she didn’t want anything to do with it. she was minding her business, just coming off of the high of the egovore case – she’d busted a druglord selling hallucinogenic laced opiates that’d killed a handful of teens in the area.

she turned the new case down initially, citing she needed a break, but in reality… she didn’t care to go undercover again. she’d been asked to do things she never wanted to do, like flirt with vicious criminals who could snap her in half without an ounce of remorse.

don’t get it twisted – she was meant to be a detective. it was in her blood.

but the things she was asked to do took a bit of a toll on her and she needed time to recuperate. she was exhausted, and quite frankly, wanted to be yana nightbloom for a couple of weeks before jumping into another identity.

however, when mayor valleros showed up to the station requesting to speak to her privately, she knew there was no getting out of it.

that night she curled up in bed, reviewing the sensitive case files as well as her new identity, hoping that she could wrap it up in a couple of months.

––––

the taxi dropped her off at the seedy motel on the outskirts of the city, just a couple blocks away from the auto shop.

she suited up in an outfit that “raine” would wear, tucking her gun into her belt, before making the trek.

the sun was low behind the old buildings, most of the strip abandoned or looted, graffiti covering nearly every inch of wall space. tents were scattered in empty lots, a handful of homeless people pushing their carts towards the tents as the last slivers of light dissipated.

all she knew about the area was that a man popped up a couple months prior, bought almost every plot, and set up shop.

he clearly bought the dying businesses so they would stay out of his way.

she’d memorized every inch of her file, committing her persona to memory as well as any details about this crew, which were surprisingly next to none.

mayor valleros couldn’t prove it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the string of robberies targeting big businesses and millionaires was somehow connected to this rinky dink shop.

the garage was halfway open, the light coming from it trickling out onto the street. the trunk of an old convertible poked out, and she could hear the bass line of a soft rock song the closer she got.

the file she’d received was nearly bare – she was walking into the situation blind. from her knowledge, they were always open to recruits, but they turned away quite a lot of people. they had a serious vetting process and didn’t trust just anyone.

she probably had little to no chance of getting in, but she was gonna do her damnedest to earn their trust.

when she approached the car, she took a slow cautious step inside, hand firmly on hip, ready to pull her gun out at a moment's notice.

a quick cock of a handgun pulled her attention south.

the man rolled to a stop from underneath the car, flat on his back against the scooter, brow quirked, the barrel of his gun pointed up at her.

“and who might you be?”

“i could be asking you the same thing,” she said, hand still on her hip.

“toss the gun over.”

she sighed, tugging it out from her waistband, squatting slowly to place it on the ground, skitting it towards him. she stood up slowly, hands in front of her in surrender.

he snatched the gun, before pushing himself up till he was standing. he slid her gun into his waistband with one hand, keeping his other trained on her.

“gimme the blade in your boot, too.”

she tried keeping her composure – she always kept a pocket knife on her but she nearly forgot it was there. how the hell did he know?

“fuck me,” she cursed under her breath. “if you insist,” he grinned, then motioned his hand towards himself.

she dug it out of her shoe, tossing it over. “how could you tell?”

“lucky guess. didn’t really know if you had one,” he shrugged, pocketing the blade.

they stood in silence, sizing each other up. his eyes raked over her body, lingering on places she was glad she had covered in baggy clothing.

“so, you gonna tell me your name?”

“no.”

“have it your way, rando. you’re not getting past this garage unless you give me something. doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“you clearly seem bothered,” she muttered, shifting her weight to her other foot.

she probably shouldn’t have been so bold, but if he wanted to shoot her, he would’ve done it already.

“nope. i don’t have shit to do. i could do this all day,” he raised a single brow, the one with a slit shaved into it.

“raine,” she said, the one syllable begrudgingly making it past her lips.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he cocked his head to the side.

“you’re not that smart if you think that’s anything more than my street name.”

“street name? what are you, a fed?” He laughed, motioning the barrel of the gun upwards. “show me your waist and back.” “didn’t know ty hired perverts as door greeters,” she rolled her eyes, tugging her shirt upwards, slowly rotating to show off her stomach and lower back, proving she wasn’t wearing a wire.

his brows furrowed as a loud, booming cackle sounded from the doorway.

“you’re just gonna let her talk to you like that, mal?” the tall woman laughed, crossing her arms when she came into view.

“why’d you just say my name like that? i had a whole thing going,” he all but groaned, running a hand over his face.

“eh, who gives a shit. not like she’s in a position to do much, anyway,” she shrugged, her biceps flexing with the motion. “plus, she clearly knows who ty is. she didn’t just waltz in here – armed, might i add – for nothing.”

“who sent you, raine?”

yana shook her head, already slipping into the new, abrasive personality, scrunching her face up in disgust. “i’m not telling you two bozos shit. bring me to ty.”

the woman closed the gap between them in a couple steps, towering over her. she was easily six foot (even taller if you counted the locs piled atop her head), tattoos riddling every exposed inch of her body, her menacing grin gleaming in the dim light. her hands fisted the fabric at yana’s neck, tugging her just high enough that the tips of her shoes brushed the concrete.

she leaned in, quirking a pierced brow. “bozos?”

yana’s resolve was weakening with every second she was dangled by the tall woman. mustering up the last bit of her strength, she furrowed her brows and looked her dead in the eye.

“yeah. you heard me. bozos.”

the woman howled with laughter, and set her down, tousling her hair. “i like this one. she’s fiery.”

“of course you would. you like ‘em when they talk back,” mal chuckled, lowering the barrel.

she sucked her teeth, shrugging. “the harder to tame, the better.”

“i’m not here for either of you.”

“raine, was it?” she ignored the dig, holding her hand out to yana instead. “immy. i’m kind of the brawn around here if you haven’t noticed.”

immy jabbed her thumb at mal, smirking. “he’s not the brains of the operation. don’t worry about that.”

“hey!” he said, holstering his gun. “you’re really gonna disrespect me like that in front of some rando?”

“damn right i will. right this way, raine,” immy said, offering her arm. yana eyed it, forcing a grimace.

“i highly suggest you take my arm so i don’t have to restrain you.”

yana laced her arm through immy’s, her taut muscle telling her everything she needed to know – she could not fight her way out of this one.

they weaved through the shop, making their way down a dim hallway towards a back room. the decor was modest, much like a bar you’d see on the edge of town where the patrons are always the same and everyone minds their business.

mal walked in front of them, approaching the big wooden door, rapping his knuckles on it a few times.

she was so wrapped in the adrenaline rush of it all that she hadn’t really noticed quite how attractive mal was. she’d dealt with attractive criminals before, but none that were as infuriating and arrogant as him. most of them minded their business and didn’t let those feelings surface, even if it was in a joking manner.

she guessed she was staring a bit too long – when she met his eyes, he winked.

“ayo, someone’s here to see you,” he yelled, leaning his hip against the door frame with a smirk.

“come in.”

“wow, bossman didn’t even hesitate,” immy said, seemingly impressed.

“maybe he knew she was coming,” mal mused before pushing the door open.

the room was large, the bookshelves lining the walls filled left to right, top to bottom with books. the black leather couches looked straight out of a casting call room, much to her distaste.

his desk was massive, seemingly a bit out of place with the rest of the more toned down decorations – long, polished mahogany with intricate carvings up and down the sides.

his posture was perfect, his fingers laced in a neutral pose. as they approached the seats facing his desk, he pushed his book to the side, slipping his glasses off and placing them on top of the cover.

“i’m assuming someone sent you,” he stated, rather than asked, expression unreadable.

“no one sent me. i don’t have a crew,” yana answered, trying to keep as calm as him.

“someone must have told you about our operation.”

“well, you’re not infamous by any means, but people are definitely talking,” she shrugged.

he stood, taking slow steps until he was at the front of the desk. he glanced at immy, then the chair, and before yana knew it, she was shoved down into a sitting position.

she tried to remain nonchalant as he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms neatly folded.

“so what do you think you know about us?” he asked with a small smile, bright blue eyes piercing.

“i know you’re ty, the head of the group. i don’t know much else,” she was being completely truthful with him, glad to drop the facade (albeit briefly).

he nodded. “that’s good. we want as little information out there as possible.”

he leaned down, long strands of hair falling in front of his shoulders, holding her gaze.

yana wasn’t one to squirm under pressure, but the way he was looking right through her, as if he was browsing the core of her being, she couldn’t help but ball her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“what’s your name?”

“raine,” she murmured, struggling to keep her face neutral.

his eyes subtly flitted around her face, probably trying to pick up on her microexpressions – she’d been trained in the art of facial expressions and lying, so she was thankful in that moment that she’d actually paid attention to the presentations.

he leaned back, looking at mal and immy. “she’s trustworthy.”

just like that? she kept her breathing even, trying not to visibly relax. she expected it’d be a bit harder than that.

“so, raine. what exactly do you want to do here?” he asked, walking around the desk to sit back in his seat.

“last time i worked with a crew, they cheated me out of most of my cut.”

ty nodded, eyes focusing in on her face again.

“i’m not here to make friends. i just want to make enough money to stay afloat,” she said bluntly, letting a bit of the truth shine through again.

he nodded again, putting his glasses back on, flipping through the book.

“we all pull our own weight here. we’re all expected to defend ourselves in any situation we’re in,” he said, voice low, scrawling notes in the margins of the book.

“can you shoot a gun?”

“yes.”

“can you wield a knife?”

“yes.”

“hand to hand combat?”

“yes.”

most of the training was because of the academy, but she’d been a scrappy teen – she’d got into plenty of fights and had always been able to hold her own.

mal plopped onto the seat next to her, leg strewn across the armrest, popping a stick of gum in his mouth. “she’s gonna need a little bit of training. immy and i got her.”

ty arched a brow at mal, seemingly in slight annoyance. “training?”

“oh yeah, she strolled in here with a gun and a knife and i took her out before she could cock it,” he laughed, shooting a wink her way.

immy laughed, too, but ty wasn’t nearly as amused. “she’ll need to be at Mal’s skill level at least by our next phase.”

“‘mal’s skill level’? what the hell does that mean?” mal asked, sitting up straight.

immy’s soft chuckles morphed into her friendly booming cackle that yana had been introduced to a couple minutes before.

“you’re clearly weaker than immy. no one’s touching her,” ty said simply, delving back into his work.

mal sighed, standing. “cut me some slack, boss. not my fault she’s taller and buffer than me.”

“yes, you should blame genetics.”

yana found herself rolling her lips together, failing to back a smile. ty caught her eye and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

for just a second, she felt comfortable with them, but she had to bury that thought and keep at the task at hand.

they were criminals, this was an investigation. no attachment, no complications.

“when nia gets here, ask her to go shopping for raine,” ty said, then resumed his work.

“you got it, boss,” immy said, pulling yana to her feet, leading her to the bookcase across the room.

she pulled a book back, revealing a keypad. she typed a long string of numbers and popped her thumb on the screen at the bottom, stepping back so that the bookcase could shift. a set of stairs appeared, leading downwards, most likely towards a basement of some sort.

“are you guys gonna kidnap me or something?”

immy grinned. “nope. all the good stuff is down here.”

the concrete staircase led to a long hallway, multiple doors on either side. “your room is the last one on the left, right after the gym.”

“gym?” “yeah, you think i could upkeep these guns without a routine?” immy joked, walking with her to the end of the hallway.

her room was surprisingly big. king sized bed, walk in closet, huge bathroom with a separate shower and tub – it was larger than her apartment.

“i’ll leave you to it,” she said, pointing towards the dresser against the wall. “there’s some spare clothes in there.”

and then she was alone.

the shower she took was quick – she even stuck a chair under the door handle just in case. she didn’t trust anyone here enough to take a long shower.

she tossed on the clothes, wrapping her long dark hair up in a towel. right about then she’d wished she’d planned things out a bit better. all of her case materials were back at the motel, and she desperately wanted to update the case files with what she’d learned.

ty, mal, immy, nia. ty, mal, immy, nia. she committed the names to memory, and the appearances of the former three, too.

a knock at the door took her out of her train of thought.

she answered it, surprised to see mal standing there in a loose fitting floral top, way different than the hoodie he’d worn when she first met him.

“here,” he said, handing her the gun and blade. “forgot to return these in the excitement of it all.”

“thanks,” she said, turning to put both on the side table near the door, leaving mal standing there.

“you gonna invite me in?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

she shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he strode in, plopping on the edge of her bed, legs sprawled wide while he leaned back on his elbows.

“so… raine. ready for training?”

“yep.”

“not talking much? understandable. i should probably introduce myself, though. properly.”

she eyed him, crossing her arms.

“i’m mal. i own all of this,” he said, gesturing around him. “volari’s the last name. well, the last name i picked.”

she nodded, knowing that she couldn’t reveal any personal information unless directly asked, trying to calculate out how to skirt around questions without being suspicious.

“the shop’s a front. kind of our homebase, ya know?” he popped his gum, gaze flitting up and down from her loose fitting clothes to her face.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“just trying to figure you out, raine,” he emphasized her fake name, a knowing grin spreading.

yana rolled her eyes, crossing the room to the mirror, tugging the towel off her hair. “there’s nothing to figure out.”

“yeah, sure,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone. “meet me in the gym tomorrow at 5 a.m.”

“that’s super early,” she said, watching him through the mirror as she raked her damp hair into a bun.

“we’ve gotta fit in your first training before we open shop,” mal winked, standing up from the bed.

“oh.”

“‘night,” he said, giving a lazy salute, before tugging the door shut with the toe of his shoe, leaving her standing alone.

––––

she barely slept that night, unable to stop the unending rolodex of details flitting through her mind.

names, height, build, tattoos, notable scars, voice – anything that she’d recognize regardless of a bad dye job or style change.

she gave up after a while, getting up when the clock said 3 a.m. slipping her blade into her waistband, she headed to the gym, hoping that she could cardio her way into a short nap.

the gym was immaculate – top notch equipment neatly lined the walls with more than enough space throughout for a group of five.

after scanning the room, she opted for a treadmill, deciding that sprints were the best way to tire out both her body and mind.

each pump of her legs was more painful than the last, the aching burn flickering up her legs with every slam of her shoe against the belt.

keep going, keep going, keep going.

yana didn’t give up. never was a quitter, never would be a quitter.

sweat beaded across her back and forehead, her breathing in tandem with her strides.

when she crossed the mile line, she slowed her pace, opting for a light jog for as long as she could handle it (another mile or two).

the sound of a singular shoe squeaking had her grasping for her knife, ready to point it at the intruder. But before she could get a grip on it, another hand snatched it from her waistband, flicking the blade out, training the tip at the base of her neck.

mal grinned at her. “not bad.”

she panted, flyaway hairs sticking to every slick patch of skin. he used the tip of the blade to delicately flick a strand off her shoulder.

“reflexes could be a bit faster, though.”

he lowered the knife, tossing her a cool towel instead.

“it’s 3 a.m. and i wasn’t expecting anyone,” she grumbled, dragging the towel down her face to sop up the sweat.

“correction: it’s 4 a.m. and you should always expect the worst.”

“why are you here so early then?” she snapped, flinging the towel over her shoulder in exasperation.

“same reason you’re here. can’t sleep,” he shrugged, before reaching behind him to tug off his white tee.

she finally got a full look at him and she wasn’t disappointed.

tanned, muscled torso, riddled with scars and tattoos alike, peppered with hair all across his front. It was really fucking hard not to stare.

she averted her eyes as he did a couple warm up stretches, leaning and stretching and looking oh so gorgeous while he did it.

his right arm was covered, a full sleeve from shoulder to wrist. the other arm was a half sleeve, his forearm bare except for a small tattoo with daggers and blood drops.

she’d noticed his gold earrings when she’d met him, since it was one of the flashiest things about him.

but the singular nipple ring? that was new. and definitely something she didn’t think would stir something in her.

she strode across the gym, trying to put some distance between them, grabbing the small weights. yana squatted and lifted and squatted and lifted but nothing she did could distract her from the soft grunts coming from mal across the room.

he was on a fucking pull up bar, tugging himself upward, hair tied back, sweat beading on his brow.

one of the biggest undercover no-no’s was getting involved with anyone while on the case. Even if they’re surrounding the case – not even a main target – it was all but forbidden.

unless… it was for intel.

get a fucking grip, dude. she shook the thought away, all but spraying herself with a hose at the thought.

“it’s about that time,” he said, a while later.

she pushed through her last few crunches, shaking off the burn as she stood up.

“i fail to see why i need to be trained. i don’t even know what we’ll be doing,” she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms.

the easiest way for her to get intel was to pretend like she didn’t care. It worked with most male egos she came across – the second she acted like she’d rather be anywhere else, the man would all but spell out his diabolical plans with a diagram and a play-by-play.

“i think you’ll at least need to know how to defend yourself. never know what situations we’ll get into,” he said, vaguely, scrubbing his own towel across his chest and torso.

unfortunately, that told her nothing.

“alright, so first thing’s first, we’ll need to roll out these mats –”

immy slammed the door open, cutting off mal’s first order.

“nia brought the grub! get in here before i eat it all,” immy said, throwing a knowing look at yana.

she looked to mal, waiting for his direction.

“go ahead. i’m gonna finish up my workout. save me a plate, alright?” he asked, striding towards the weights.

yana slipped past her and into the hallway without a second glance, trying to look anywhere but the sly grin that stretched immy’s mouth.

“so what was going on in there?” immy asked, teasing.

“nothing. just training.”

“just training. suuuure,” she said with a laugh, clapping yana on the back, knocking the wind out of her.

they trudged up the stairs to the autoshop, yana’s legs crying out with each step. she was regretting the workout in that regard, but a tiny part of her brain was revelling in the time she spent with mal, mind reeling over each physical detail of him.

they made their way to the tiny kitchen (much smaller than the one underground), greeted with a few platters of breakfast food and a smiling woman.

“hi! i hear you’re the one who took over my bedroom,” nia grinned, giving a friendly wave. “it’s so nice to meet you.”

she cocked her head to the side, making sure to make a slight spectacle of almost not trusting nia’s friendliness – had to lean into the “raine” persona, right?

nia’s smile didn’t waver as she gestured at the food. “i thought i could give you a bit of a warm welcome. it was undoubtedly nicer than theirs, huh?”

ty chuckled under his breath, stepping away from the counter with a steaming mug of coffee. “you know us too well, nia.”

immy snorted, grabbing a plate and piling up the bacon and pancakes. “thanks, chief.”

nia laughed in response, handing a plate to yana, encouraging her to eat.

it was such a weird atmosphere. the night before was pretty tense – yana was tense. she was petrified of sleeping through the night for fear of someone coming in the room and offing her.

and to be greeted with platters of food and a chill atmosphere? madness.

it made her a bit nervous considering in her experience some of the most heinous crimes were committed by tight knit crews that considered each other family. she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of shit she’d gotten herself into.

she piled her plate with fruit and oatmeal, leaning against the wall as she popped a spoonful of cinnamon oatmeal in her mouth, chasing it with a sliced apple.

“glad to finally tip the scales. i didn’t think we’d be adding anyone to the crew, but i’m so happy you’re here,” nia said, taking a sip from her mug.

“i think immy’s woman enough for the both of us,” yana shrugged, shoveling another spoonful in her mouth.

“don’t tempt me, raine. i have no issue telling you exactly what i wanna do to you,” immy lifted a brow, licking the underside of her spoon very slowly, holding her gaze.

nia nearly choked on her tea, mumbling a soft “excuse me” as she grabbed a napkin to blot her mouth.

“flustering the nun. another tick off my bucket list,” immy cackled.

“former and i was training,” nia threw a pointed look at her, locking eyes with yana right after.

“you’re here with us now. that’s all that matters,” ty said, with a bit of finality, hushing the rest of the conversation.

mal burst into the room, drenched in sweat and half naked. “pancakes? oh fuck yeah. thanks nia.”

he piled the food on his plate, plopping down on the barstool at the counter. he glanced back at yana, then patted the seat next to him with a smirk. “i don’t bite.”

she rolled her eyes, rigid stance betraying the fluttering in her chest. she slid in next to him and ate silently, eyes trained on her food.

“so, boss, what’s on the agenda for today?” mal asked through a mouthful of food.

ty stared at him in disgust, setting his mug down to address the room. “we have a lot of planning to do. these next few jobs have to be absolutely seamless if we want to evade law enforcement.”

“what, you’re saying that the pigs caught wind of us?” immy asked, annoyance lacing her tone.

“no, not to my knowledge,” ty shook his head, a single wrinkle appearing between his thick brows. “but we won’t be able to keep this up for long.”

he strode over to the spread of food, grabbing a single grape, tossing it into his mouth. “each his has to count. there’s absolutely no room for mistakes.”

everyone nodded in agreeance.

“mal and immy, you’re with me. we’ll be planning escape routes, seeing if they match up with our physical map, scouting the areas – the grueling work. nia,” he said, glancing down at her. “you’ll take raine shopping. she’ll need a dress for the gala.”

he trained his gaze on yana, gaze penetrating right through her. she held her breath, hoping that nothing about the way she ate, sat, breathed tipped him off –

“get her a wig, too.”

––––

a power nap and a couple hours later, yana and nia were in nia’s car, driving towards the center of the city to the mall.

“i’ve never been to a gala before,” yana murmured honestly, watching the storefronts pass by, gradually getting more and more expensive.

“once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all,” nia shrugged, flicking her blinker before turning into the parking garage.

shopping was fairly painless. nia took her to her favorite store, forced her to try on a handful of dresses, and thankfully the second one fit (and was both of their favorites).

“this is too much,” yana said bluntly, trying to mask her eagerness to wear the floor length gown.

“no it’s perfect. you’ll fit in seamlessly,” she said, swiping her card. the cashier handed her the plastic covered gown, and they were out again.

“i have a few wigs back in my room that you can try on. i’m thinking a short blonde bob for you,” nia said, reaching out to gently push yana’s long dark strands over her shoulder.

nia was beautiful. her long red curls soaked up the sun and reflected the gold – she was clearly the best of them all with a heart big enough for everyone and then some.

her eyes were soft, smile even softer, with curves even softer than that.

there was something about nia that felt like home. yana brushed the thought away, redirecting her mind to the event.

“what am i supposed to do at the gala?”

“schmooze some rich people, make them think you’re high society, gain their trust, all of that,” she said simply, unlocking the car.

–––

after a quick wig fitting, nia flipped a hand mirror yana’s way, grinning widely. “you look gorgeous.”

“oh... that’s different.”

nia frowned. “different as in bad?”

“no, not bad,” she said, running her hand through the short blunt bob that didn’t even graze her shoulders. “just different. i’ve never been a blonde.”

“oh, you’ll be alright,” she reassured her, grabbing a mannequin head with a long blonde wig on it, pre-styled with curls and braids galore. “there’s always a first time for everything!”

when they emerged from their room, ready to head to the event in an unknown location (which made yana insanely nervous), the rest of the crew were neck deep in planning, mumbling amongst themselves.

“we’re out! be back in a few hours,” nia waved without a second glance, jingling the car keys as she went.

the three of them looked stunned when they laid eyes on yana. immy’s mouth upturned into a smirk and mal’s scarred eyebrow lifted – even ty looked a bit taken aback.

“you clean up well, raine,” immy nodded, gesturing to her gown.

“thanks,” she said, a bit uncomfortably.

as yana, she was flattered; as raine, she was bothered.

“uh, well, i’ll be back soon. bye.”

“wait,” mal called as she turned her back. “here.”

he slipped a blade and a thin leather strap into her hand, gently closing her fingers around it. “just in case.”

“is this –” she stopped, looking at the buckle and pouch. a thigh strap for the blade.

“yup. stay safe, raine,” he winked, returning to the table, which was covered in maps and loose papers.

–––

the gala was pretty boring.

maybe it was because she wasn’t exactly sure why she was there quite yet, so she couldn’t properly gather intel, but either way the attendees were bland.

nia blabbed on and on about mundane things with the men, laughing, twirling her hair, and gently resting a hand on a shoulder at the right time.

they were putty in her hands.

yana on the other hand was as charming as she could manage, trying to coax information out of the men who were two seconds away from getting handsy.

an hour and a half in, nia took the stage, which surprised her.

what shocked her even more was the fact that the gala was for charity. specifically nia’s charity.

she commanded the stage like she belonged there, and by the end of her speech about taking care of the people of their city, every socialite was scrambling to add an extra zero to their checks.

“this is your event? for your charity?” she whispered in nia’s ear between shaking hands and thanking the patrons.

“yeah! i’ll tell you more about it on the way back,” she said offhandedly, before leaning in to hug a woman covered in decadent jewels.

when they made it to the car, nia spilled immediately.

“so, i’m the face of the charity by day. it’s fairly new and pretty small,” nia started, keeping her eyes on the road.

“and you failed to mention your connection to it because…?”

“the crew thought i should wait to tell you.”

“i feel like i don’t have all of the pieces here, though.”

she sighed. “you don’t.”

yana raised a brow.

“i’m a former novitiate. a nun in training, if you will. i trained at a large church in the heart of the city, and my dream was to eventually head an orphanage and lead troubled youth to christ.”

“what changed?” she asked cautiously.

“my eyes were open to the corruption of the church before it was too late, thankfully. i couldn’t handle the greediness. it felt like every decision was driven by profit, not spirituality. their numbers were dollar amounts, not souls saved,” nia sighed, slowing to a stop at the red light, tugging the wig off her head. “each case was hand chosen for potential monetary gain. nothing was genuine.

“after leaving the church, i created the charity specifically to take care of homeless citizens, since we have a huge population of them. we’re focused on small victories like proper kitchens and distributing survival kits right now, but we’re working towards bigger things.”

“so… why was i involved tonight?” yana asked earnestly.

“because you’re a new face. a pretty face. virtually undetectable to these people. i can’t do all of it on my own, you know,” she smiled.

“so what does this have to do with the crew?”

“i’ll let them explain that to you,” nia said simply, ending the conversation.

––––

when they entered ty’s office, the rest of the crew were there, sitting around, drinking and chatting.

“there’re the pretty ladies,” immy slurred from her seat, holding up her nearly empty mug of beer.

“any news?” ty asked after taking a small sip of what looked like scotch.

“raine did awesome, just as i suspected,” nia beamed, throwing her arm around yana’s waist.

“that’s what i love to hear,” mal said from the seat next to immy, winking when yana caught his eye.

“i told her a bit about the gala, and my charity, but i thought i’d wait till we were all together to explain further.”

ty nodded. “that was the right move.”

“i’m all ears,” yana said, slipping into the open seat next to immy.

“you ladies earned a drink. let me grab you one before we get started. beer okay?” mal asked, jogging out the door towards the kitchen.

“beer’s fine,” yana called, slipping her heels off and rubbing her aching feet.

as soon as they both had their drinks, ty addressed her, launching into a full explanation.

“nia’s our best judge of character. i’d apologize that you weren’t kept in the loop until now, but you know how these things work. we can’t compromise the mission,” he said, stepping up from his desk to pace.

“nia is also our decoy, if you will. she’s the one who draws in the potential targets so we can gather information and plan. the rest of us are… not quite on good terms with the law,” he said, pausing his stride to look at yana.

immy laughed, throwing back the last of her beer. “you can say that again.”

“what’d you do?” yana asked, eyes darting between mal and ty.

“well, i’ve just done a lot of dirty work for people,” immy sighed, wincing. “and it backfired.”

“i’ll refrain from speaking about personal matters,” ty said, a hint of pain in his gaze.

“unlike the boss, i don’t mind telling you. i can’t remember a time where i wasn’t pissing off some cop. the list is endless,” mal grinned.

“you can’t just ask us and then not tell us what you’ve done,” immy complained, sliding her mug onto ty’s desk, quickly grabbing a coaster when ty’s gaze turned sharp.

yana shrugged. “i don’t know. i’ve always been a bit of a problem.”

it was true. growing up in foster care toughened her up pretty early. protecting her brother from bullies kept her in trouble.

they were never formally adopted, but they spent so much time in the same foster homes over time that kade just became her brother.

she got into the normal scrappy kid problems, stopping eventually when she’d racked up enough petty misdemeanors to potentially get time.

instead, she begrudgingly joined the force. she never liked being a cop, but she loved detective work.

it wasn’t her dream job, but it was the job that let her be whoever she wanted to be. yeah, sometimes she hated slipping into a different identity every couple of months (or years), but she couldn’t picture herself doing anything else. at least right then she couldn’t, as she sat amongst a crew that she’d infiltrated with no issue – she was playing them like a fiddle, and they had no clue.

“good thing we like to fix problems here,” mal said, eyeing her as he tipped his drink back.

nia laughed nervously, gripping her bottle tight. “okay, can we continue? please?”

“thank you, nia, as always, for keeping us on track,” ty said, nodding her way. “our operation is one that some would consider the… vigilante sort.”

“as in, you’re taking matters into your own hands?”

ty nodded again. “we’ve all experienced corruption in the city at different levels, and we’ve grown tired of sitting idly by while nothing gets done by the same officials who get reelected term after term while having no record of accomplishments.”

“and you think i’m a good fit here?” she didn’t know why she blurted that question out. it’s like every time she was on thin ice she ventured farther and farther, begging for it to crack.

“i saw it in your eyes, raine. you want to help people,” he said, holding her gaze. “this – our operation – can be how you do that.”

“i still don’t know what i’m getting myself into. i can’t decide anything without knowing,” she said, honest again.

“you’re going to have to decide.” his voice was firm, unwavering. he knew exactly what he was doing – every step of the past twenty four hours was a test, each interaction with each member converging to this moment.

she looked to each person in the room, from immy’s bright gaze, to nia’s warm inviting eyes, to mal’s sultry stare, to ty’s – his icy blue eyes were piercing. like the first time she met him, he was staring right through her as if he could see the essence of her being if he searched hard enough.

“i’m in.”

––––

#playchoices #bladesaw #mal volari #mal volari x mc #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32-Epilogue

When he’d agreed to let Lucy move in with them, Natsu could admit it wasn’t the greatest idea to make a snap decision, because inside he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Plus, it had also put Gray in a tough position, because he knew his friend wouldn’t be so heartless to kick out a female with a problem. Yeah, that was kind of a dick move for which he’ll be paying once the dust had settled. Especially now that they were finding out, just how difficult it was really going to be...

Nightmares? More like night terrors. It wasn’t every single night, but Lucy would often wake Natsu up at all hours as if reliving the events of the kidnapping. Physical movements, from fighting a Touka memory. The whines and screams, sometimes blood curdling shrieks as she’d shoot up in bed covered in a film of sweat, hyperventilating and still in the midst of an unseen attack. It was bad enough that Natsu started sleeping on his side, so if Lucy started swinging, his back took the brunt of it. He’d have to grab her arms and just hold her, doing his best to keep his voice low or soft, until she fully awoke from the dream state and collapsed into his arms in sheer exhaustion. Heaven help him, if this is what Levy had gone through for months, the woman deserved a Nobel peace prize for staying sane. After two weeks of this, Gray arranged with Levy to use Lucy’s room. He didn’t want to abandon Lucy, but the lack of sleep was starting to affect his school and job. It left Natsu all alone with his girlfriend, and frankly it was affecting him too. Not only the mental struggles, but the physical exhaustion made it difficult for him to get his job done. Makarov was a saint for being so understanding through it all.

“You look tired today,” Natsu’s therapist questioned in a toned statement. “I take it you’re still not getting enough sleep.”

The bags under his eyes were a dead giveaway to anyone that saw him. “Is it really that obvious?” Natsu responded with a bit of sarcasm to his tone.

“Is it your own demons or Lucy’s?”

“A mix of both.”

“Have you told her about your struggles or are you still hiding it. You know it’s better if you be honest with her.”

Way to go for the kill shot. The therapist went straight to the heart of things. Natsu sighed, “I told her a little... when she’d admitted being worried I’d leave her.”

“What did you say exactly?”

He fidgeted in the chair. “Well... literally, just that. I was just trying to kill her fears not worrying about my own at the time.”

“Ah. Well, maybe it’s time. You’ve told me that you’re trying hard to help her to get over her own struggles, but Natsu, you also need to take your own advice.”

Turn of the screws. But the therapist was right. “I know. I just worry it’ll add to her worries, which will make it worse, a-and that’s not gonna help either of us.”

“I think you should have more faith in Lucy. As you are her strength, she can be just as much yours. Don’t dismiss the idea before you even try it. If she feels like she’s helping you, it will give her a sense of accomplishment too, just like it gives you when you feel like you’re helping her.”

When the therapist put it that way, Natsu couldn’t help but pause and reflect on it, because damn the woman was making a lot of sense! Why did he fall in love with Lucy in the first place? Because of her feisty personality, that’s why. Had he forgotten? The real Lucy was still in there, it just needed to find its way back to the surface. There’s no harm in being honest about feeling scared or guilty. Kind of bare his heart to her in a way.

“Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

He knew if he’d waited to confront this, he’d find an excuse not to do it. So that night after dinner, Natsu sat Lucy down for a heart to heart and bore his soul. His fears, his guilt, how the brave face he showed her day after day really just hid his own pain and insecurities over the situation. It was difficult and freeing at the same time to get it off his chest.

“Thank you for telling me, Natsu... that actually makes me feel a little better, because I thought I was going through it alone all this time. I mean, you being positive helps to keep me a little grounded, but it also made me feel like a burden. I want to help you as much you help me.”

“Are you sure? I just don’t want to add to your struggles.”

“I can’t tell you it won’t always be easy, so, all I can tell you is right now is I don’t think it will.”

“Okay— then promise me that you’ll say something if it is, a-and we’ll figure out something else.”

Lucy took Natsu’s hands in her own, “now that, I will promise.”

But despite their decision to co-fight, Natsu still took the initiative for Lucy and himself to figure out how to make things better... or lose his sanity in trying. He scoured psychology websites, searching for therapy’s and techniques used for PTSD, anxiety, depression, or anything related that might be useful, even meditation. It was a lot of work, but the information was useful, and he learned a lot about helping Lucy and himself to heal. Some of the horror stories were difficult to read, yet many of the survivors stories he came across provided the much needed encouragement to get through this ordeal.

The first thing Natsu decided to tackle was the nightmares, and to do that he’d learned he first needed to deal with the underlying causes. Pent up emotions being unleashed in Lucy’s subconscious as she slept were producing these horrific night terrors. With suggestions from both his therapist as well as Lucy’s, Natsu encouraged her every night before bed to write, write anything that came to mind, and he gently coaxed her into letting go of the worst thoughts. Unleash it onto the page, as the therapist put it. Then, together they would meditate using a relaxation technique he’d found appealing. Meditation wasn’t something Natsu thought he’d take a liking to, or even believed would work. But after learning more about it, decided it was worth a shot.

Everyone he knew used to tell him, it’s about clearing your mind of all thoughts... yeah, uh-huh, who the hell can pull that off? No, in this other technique it started off by saying that’s almost impossible, and that immediately caught his attention. It taught them about learning to control instead, to have thoughts, but focus them, compartmentalize them away and let them become background static you could more easily ignore through habituation. Ever wonder how a person can sleep near an airport or a train track? It’s because you get used to the sound. Once that’s done, you zero in on something you do want to think about, a nice memory, a sound, whatever you choose. Let it soothe and relax you until the next thing you know, your mind wants nothing more than to fall away into dreamland.

It took a few days of pushing Lucy through each step, because at first, she really did not want to rehash, even in a fictional way, the events of the kidnapping. So, Natsu would pull her onto his lap, with his arms around her waist while she held the paper and pen, closely monitoring her body language. The tensing and shaking were his first signs... ‘it’s okay, let it go...’ he’d whispered and tightened his hold, continuing the positive mantras, ‘you’re safe now, you can do this, I’ve got ya...’ Next came the release in the form of tears. A trickle, like a cracking of a dam, until it burst forth. Words on paper and liquid trails along her cheeks, but it was a good thing. All the anger and negativity flowing out instead of walled up in her mind. After a couple of weeks, the techniques were showing signs of working. Lucy awoke less and less because of the nightmares. She was still having some, but they weren’t to the same degree or frequency they’d once been.

“Yup... uh-huh, n-no, really, I am doing much better Lev. Yeah, we’ll visit tomorrow.... That sounds awesome. It’s be awhile since I’ve eaten sushi... I’m pretty sure... I’ll be okay, I promise… Yeah, we’ll meet you at Genki Zushi… Uh-huh, you too Levy. Good night.”

As soon as Lucy hung up her phone call, Natsu checked to make sure she really was okay with the plan to go out for dinner. It’d been just over three months since Lucy went anywhere aside from the doctors or police station willingly.

“I need to do this,” she stammered, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t stay locked away forever.”

Natsu kissed her on the forehead. “I’m really proud of you babe.”

“I’m proud of us both,” Lucy smiled. “But I couldn’t do this without your support.”

Such a simple phrase meant the world to Natsu. After the last two months of struggle, his therapists advice was coming to fruition, or at least his truly believing it was possible. They were on the road to healing and nothing felt better than that, because one of the hardest legs of their journey was coming up fast.

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #Natsu x lucy #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #strangers on a train #ch 27

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bluesfortheredj · 4 years ago

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Modern Romance - Epilogue.

Smut ahead.

“Gwil, I can’t do this, I can’t cope,” she sighs, her voice on the verge of cracking with tears.

I can hear our son in the background; his cries coming across loud and clear as if it were him on the phone instead.

“It’s as if I’m not good enough, I’m not you. He doesn’t want his mum, he wants his dad.”

“Don’t say that, he doesn’t want me! He wants you, the person who gave birth to him.”

“He always calms down when you soothe him. I’ve tried everything; his nappy is dry, he’s not hungry, he hasn’t got wind… I don’t know what else to do,” she sounds empty, completely drained from a sleepless night and day.

I’ve only been gone 48 hours and she’s been up for most of those with our little one. I should be there, I say this too many times in our relationship, but I’m out in Europe filming and absent for more important moments as usual. I didn’t want to leave but in all honesty we need the money now we’ve got a tiny human to feed and clothe, and with (Y/N) on maternity leave it’s a struggle at times to make ends meet. Our little Leo is only six months old and it was the toughest decision to make but (Y/N) encouraged me to take it being as it’s only four weeks, despite being apprehensive about being left on her own with the bubba.

“Put me on video,” I instruct, needing to see her face.

It feels like Australia all over again and I might as well be the other side of the world with how isolated she must be feeling right now. She does as I say and now I can see the sheer exhaustion on her face in the suddenly harsh light of our lounge; she’s pale, there are deep dark circles underneath her eyes, and she looks completely beaten. Leo is screaming in the rocker next to her, one of her feet still managing to try and soothe him in spite of the fact that her whole body was now weak with tiredness, and I have to force a reassuring smile.

“He will not. Stop. Crying,” she sobs, “the neighbours must think something terrible is going on in here with the way he’s screaming. I’m an awful mother, I can’t cope being alone with my own child, I-”

“Shh,” I hush, “you’re doing a brilliant job under the circumstances. I should be there to help, there’s absolutely no shame in struggling on your own with a new born! Just look at me… look at me a second… just breathe okay? Take some deep breaths. That’s it. In… and out. Now you’re gonna pick up Leo and do the same okay?”

I’m clutching at straws, I have no more of an idea of what to do than she does, and I’m just making this up in the blind hope that it’ll go some way to calm the two of them down.

“Maybe do the skin to skin thing?” I add, knowing that we were told how it can help with bonding in the early months.

She nods slowly, stands the phone up on the coffee table, undoes the top few buttons on her pyjama shirt, takes one last deep breath, then picks up Leo from the rocker and carefully tucks him inside the clothing with his little red face still crying out for something unknown. I nod and smile as she looks to the phone screen for reassurance, then she wipes her tears away and starts to take deep breaths once more while her finger tips massage Leo’s scalp gently while he cries into her neck.

“You know him better than anyone on this planet,” I remind her, “you nurtured him for nine whole months and made sure he came into this world as safely and healthy as he could.”

Her eyes close as she begins to hum a song and she nods along to what I say until finally those screams begin to fade and I watch as his tiny chunky arms reach out to (Y/N)’s skin and rest upon it as if hugging her. The humming stops and I soon realise the two of them are now asleep in front of me, but I stay on video for another twenty minutes just to watch them both and take in the sight of my little family snoozing happily without me there. Leo stirs a little, his eyes opening slightly to look up at his mum, then he nuzzles into her neck with a yawn and he’s soon off to sleep again before I manage to end the video call.

Everything had been quite the rush since I proposed over a year ago; we had a small wedding ceremony at a country house in the middle of nowhere when she was six months gone with only the closest family and friends being invited, and we chose to forgo a honeymoon in favour of going away after the baby arrived which obviously did not go to plan because babies are notoriously good at messing up plans; it’s lucky they’re so bloody cute. And Leo… well, he’s the cutest of them all, not that I’m biased in any way obviously, but he is definitely the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the most perfect mix of (Y/N) and I with his tiny button nose and piercing blue eyes. It’s funny how you imagine having the perfect little family and yet somehow the reality isn’t as easy as you think; sleepless nights, sick down every top you own, explosive poos in almost every colour of the rainbow, pee on your face if you take the nappy away too quickly… it’s really quite fascinating how much a small human can impact on your life. (Y/N) is a born mother but it hasn’t been easy adjusting to this new way of life for either of us, and I know that this is such a huge step to be left on her own with Leo for so long, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it, I know that for a fact.

“Gwil!” (Y/N) whispers excitedly when I answer her video call a few days later, “look!”

She switches cameras to show me a sleeping Leo in his cot then backs out of the room and turns the camera on herself to show me a relieved smile on her still slightly sleep deprived face, “it only took a week,” she sighs.

I smile, yet still feel sad that I’m not there to help out, “I’m sorry,” I exhale with a shake of my head, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she reassures, “if I can get through the last week without tearing my hair out then I can get through anything, right?”

“Exactly,” I nod, “you’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I’m nothing without you here.”

“Shut up,” I scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. Now remind me, when are your parents getting there?”

She looks down at her watch briefly, “in about an hour.”

“Good, and did the shopping get delivered alright?”

“Yep,” she nods, “got about 20 packs of nappies now which should last at least a couple of days,” she laughs.

“How’s his poo doing?” the conversations we have these days really are quite unexpected.

“It’s looking more human and less glowing alien goop, so it’s going in the right direction!”

“Oh thank god,” I sigh, “I could not cope with the…” I pause as I almost gag at the thought of what I used to find in his nappy, “yeah… that.”

She laughs at my reaction; a laugh that I hadn’t seen since before I left, and I melt into the seat at the desk in my hotel room at the sight and sound of that beautiful response. It was like cool rain after a sweltering summer’s day, having a mug of hot chocolate while underneath a blanket in winter, or the pure, ecstatic relief of coming home after weeks away. She’s home to me; I don’t even need to be in our house as long as I’m with her and now little Leo as well.

“What are you thinking?” she hums, seeing me drift off to a place with her.

“I’m just-”

Leo’s scream comes across loud and clear on the phone and she sticks out her bottom lip as far as it will go before knocking the back of her head on the wall behind as she tries to muster up some energy to deal with the impending situation.

“I love you, bye,” she sighs, ending the video call just as I open my mouth to reply.

“Love you too,” I say to the photo of us dancing at our wedding that makes up the background on my phone.

I spend far too long looking at pictures on my phone these days, although it’s getting increasingly harder to find the ones of us alone through the many rapid shots of Leo doing completely mundane things like giggling, waving his hands about, sleeping, eating, bathing, and most probably pooing in at least fifty percent of them. I have to scroll for a while before something other than our little man appears, and I end up going all the way back to the first photo I ever took of (Y/N). It’s just as magical as the day I took it; the soft glow of the rising sun illuminating the outline of her body in our bed. Because now it is our bed. The bed we’ve made love in countless times, the bed we’ve both cried in, comforted one another in, laughed until we’ve almost wet ourselves in, and the bed our baby was conceived in. The first thing I do when I get home is take her to bed, as long as Leo can give us five minutes that is; I think I’ll have to call in reinforcements, aka grandparents as childcare.

I try to squeeze through the crowds at the airport as quickly as possible so I can jump in a cab and get home, but these people will just not move. My frustrations grow with each person that bumps into me, and I’m a grumbling mess when I finally get outside the prison that is Heathrow, especially when I see that there are no taxis in sight thanks to the mass influx of people tonight. It’s a nightmare and the cheerful and relieved mood I was in when we landed has been stripped away bit by bit in the last half an hour. I finally find myself a cab and pop earphones in for the relatively quick journey considering London traffic, then I breathe a sigh of relief as I arrive home and walk up that familiar path. The door flies open before I even get to the mat and I drop my suitcase and bag as (Y/N) comes running out to greet me, flinging her arms around my neck and almost knocking me over with her enthusiasm. Now I’m really home.

“I missed you so much,” she quietly sobs into my shirt.

“I missed you more,” I whisper back, tears rolling over my cheeks, “are you okay? Is Leo alright? Where is he?”

She pulls away and I wipe her tears as she hangs on to my coat, “please don’t hate me but he’s with my parents until tomorrow…”

My face lights up at the thought of having (Y/N) all to myself again if only for 24 hours, and I can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, “how could I ever hate you? I get you alone for a whole day and we can pretend we’ve got no actual responsibilities. I couldn’t love you any more if I tried. Now come on, we’re having sex in every room.”

I take her hand and pull her inside the house to the sweetest sound of her laughing behind me, and I sit her on the stairs before running back out to grab my luggage. I drop it all in a pile in the hallway before I kick the door shut behind me, then she stands up on the step she stood on the first proper weekend we spent together and we recreate that kiss; the kiss that cemented us as a couple despite there being no labels at that point as we stood in our pyjamas ready for a night of nothing in particular.

“I completely and utterly adore our little Leo, but my god I’ve been aching to have you all to myself since he arrived,” I admit breathlessly, barely parting from our kiss as my hands wander her body unsure of where to stop these days.

“I know,” she nods as her lips move along my jaw lazily, “it’s just you and me until tomorrow night my love. Let’s not waste a minute.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head at those words and she pushes against my chest as she steps down from the stairs, then in a flurry of discarded clothes, wet, messy kisses and bumps into walls, doors, and furniture we somehow end up in the living room with me sat on the sofa and my beautiful (Y/N) bouncing up and down on my lap. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed her, I’ve missed the feeling of being so intimate with the one I love, I’ve missed her body and all the beautiful little changes it’s made to carry and nurture our son. I look up at her in both awe and pure pleasure to see her gaze focused on me and we meet for a sloppy, teeth clashing kiss while our bodies move together as one for the first time since our bubba came along. I’m first to orgasm, with her following shortly after, and we lay in a tangled, naked mess along the sofa as we catch our breath once we’ve finished. Our bodies are stuck together with the thin layers of sweat that coat both of us and the only sound is our breathing as it transitions from pants to soft breaths.

“Pasta?” she eventually asks.

“I fucking love you,” I reply.

She gets up with a grin and I study every inch of her body as she looks around for something to cover her, then I realise just how much it had changed during the pregnancy and the last few months and it’s a bewitching sight to see.

“You look incredible,” I admire, leaning up on one arm as she slips my t-shirt over her head.

“Urgh,” she groans, “I’m fatter than ever, my nipples are so painful, the stretch marks have spread, and I can barely get control over my bladder. I look far from incredible.”

I furrow my brow at her and sit up, “I mean it; you’re absolutely stunning. I hadn’t realised just how much your body had adapted to having our little one but it’s amazing to see, and you’re just as beautiful as the day I met you, if not more.”

“How is it you can still make my knees weak with mere words?” she blushes, backing out of the room to sort out some food.

I dress… well, I put on my pants and the jogging bottoms I wore on the journey back, then join her in the kitchen and it’s as if we’re back to those first couple of months again; the silliness, the passion, the carefree nature of us both, and it’s just as intoxicating now as it was back then. I know it’s completely selfish but having her attention on just me again is what I’ve been craving since our little muffin came along, and I’m sure that this will satiate my need for at least another six months. To be honest, I think she needs this just as much as I do; she’s had a tough month being on her own with Leo and playing both mum and dad while I’ve been away, and now she can have a well deserved day off from it all.

Our day is filled with delicious food, laying on the sofa and watching a whole television programme without being disturbed by cries, getting lost in one another with endless kissing and touching, and we make love two more times with one in our bedroom and the other in the kitchen. By night we don’t even want to go to sleep for fear of missing a second of being with each other, but we soon have to give in to the utter exhaustion of being awake for so long, and we huddle up together for a peaceful nights sleep.

“Morning,” (Y/N) whispers softly as I blink into the light of the room.

“Morning,” I reply groggily, trying my best to sit up.

“I have a confession to make…”

“Go on.”

“I phoned my parents this morning and they’re bringing Leo back in an hour. I loved our time together, it was perfect in every way, but my god am I missing that little sleep stealer!”

I let out a chuckle at her confession, “me too. It just wasn’t the same watching almost a whole series without one interruption. I miss cuddling him in one arm and trying to do something else with the other.”

“Well, it’s official… we’re proper parents now.”

“Yep. Undoubtedly so!”

She slips under the covers and cuddles into my side, running her fingers through the hair on my chest softly, and we both close our eyes to savour the moment before begrudgingly getting up and dressed ready for the return of Leo.

“Thank you,” I say as we spot her parent’s car pulling up outside.

“For what?” she frowns.

“Sticking with me, making me a dad, being my rock… the list goes on.”

She places a hand on my cheek and kisses my lips gently, “you big softie. You’re stuck with me anyway,” she winks.

The arrival of Leo at the door is signified by one of his giggles, and (Y/N) runs to open it and take our son in her arms with me following quickly behind. He wriggles against her and soon starts grabbing at her to get as close as humanly possible to his mum as she peppers his head with kisses while she carefully rocks her body soothingly.

“Daddy’s home!” she whispers excitedly as she passes him to me and ushers her parents into the lounge.

He grumbles a little, having to get used to smelling his dad again after such a long time, but he soon settles and overall seems pleased to see me thank goodness. I rock him in my arms as (Y/N) goes to make the tea and I stand in the kitchen doorway looking between the two loves of my life and completely taken aback by how lucky I got to have them in my life.

“Hey, come here,” I nod as (Y/N) turns to look at me.

She steps towards us both and plants a soft kiss on the little one’s nose as I wrap my free arm around her, then press my lips first to (Y/N)’s head, and secondly to Leo’s. As long as I’ve got these two in my life, I’ll be happy.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee smut

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cntrspll · 4 years ago

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this is a love letter to my own fic

hi hello hey, this is an essay about my own fic and the feelings i have about it. fic can be found here.

i am going to try so hard to keep this organized but i don’t know how well that will work soooo let’s go!

on the fic overall:

i just... like magnus. i think he is a fan fave for a reason, but i think there’s a lot of missing discussion of his post-canon situation and the development thereafter. when i finished listening to balance for the first time (in february-ish this year, i think?), i remember being super frustrated with where parts of the fandom had landed their focus. this isn’t an uncommon fandom thing, and i totally get where it comes from. some characters are just super relatable and a lot of fun to write about and have like absolute piles of stuff to unpack, so it’s totally fair that some characters get more focus than others, but where i felt that some of my faves got a lot of fandom focus, others... didn’t.

so this fic was in part an attempt to rectify that, because i wasn’t finding the unpacking of magnus and his emotional / mental state that i wanted. that being said, there are a couple fics that i did draw a little bit of inspiration from, the biggest probably being patterns of migration by goodnicepeople. the depiction of magnus as this big strong dude who also has these quiet vulnerabilities that he doesn’t like admitting to people is like, in part just really accurate to canon, but also something that i really wanted to see explored more, and i didn’t find a whole lot of other fics that fit that, so in part i just wanted to set out to put a little more into that.

also, like, i work in food service, and we are in a pandemic, and i moved in the middle of this year and i started hrt this year and have been dealing with the fallout of coming out and just kind of everything, and this fic was a really good way of just like, distracting myself from everything and sitting down for a little every day and thinking about something else and not so much about everything that was happening around me. so there is a good part of this fic that is just like, me coping with everything and trying to reorient myself a little. and it worked pretty well for that!

on process:

ok first things first, this was never meant to be 133k long. when i first sat down to write this, it was going to be a handful of snapshots set across [undetermined amount of time here] of magnus dealing with isolation and insomnia, and it was only meant to be like, maybe a 20k oneshot? that obviously did not happen. i think my original estimate once i accepted that this was gonna be multichaptered was like 60-70k, but then the chapters started getting longer with each one i finished, and then i wanted to add in an interlude, and then i decided i needed an epilogue, and here we are.

i’ll talk about this in other sections too, but as i wrote, i just kept finding more and more things that i wanted to talk about. i was also in the process of relistening to balance i was writing, and i kept running into little things that happened over the course of the show that i was like... oh shit! and that would inspire another scene or an interaction i wanted to write or something i wanted to focus more on, and the whole thing just kept getting more and more and bigger and bigger.

i’ve said it like 50 thousand times now, but i have never written anything this long before. i tried really hard to be regimented about the way i did it, because from the beginning i knew this was going to be an emotional journey for me to write, but i knew that if i let it slide for a week or so then i would never finish it. so to get through it, i wrote almost every day for a minimum of an hour. the process that i’ve found works best for me when i’m writing is using word sprints, putting on some music, and then forcing myself to tune out of social media and everything else for 25 minutes. i try to do between 750-1k words in that time period, then the site gives you a five minute break, during which i usually check twitter or fact check if i need to, and then i go back in and do another sprint. this works really well for me because i wasn’t trying to hit a specific word goal in any given day, just like... trying to sit down and write. i also tried not to guilt myself too much if i missed a day, or if i only did one sprint instead of two, or anything like that, and that’s kind of what helped me get through the whole monster without instantly dropping it as soon as i had another idea.

on mental health and recovery:

so one of my big personal pet peeves in fiction is the idea that trauma recovery is like, a one time single event deal. like, someone has this big horrible thing happen to them or they have some pressing mental health issue and then someone else walks in and they have one conversation and bam, everything is fine. i was exposed to a lot of [fan]fiction when i was younger that kind of supported this kind of narrative, and i get that there is a certain sort of wish fulfillment thing to that, but it also sucks, being an adult and having Problems(TM) and knowing that it absolutely does not work like that.

so when i set out to write a fic about trauma and mental illness and recovery, i felt kind of a responsibility to not fall into that trap and write it like, okay and then magnus and taako talk about it and taako’s like hey dude you’re depressed but it’s okay and then magnus doesn’t have nightmares anymore. also, because this is taz and the canon of like, historical accuracy is complete bullshit, i can put therapists and psychiatry and psychiatric medications in my fic and no one can tell me i’m wrong and it doesn’t exist. elevators exist, so i can make ssris and anti anxiety pills exist.

but also, magnus as a character is not going to jump into that right away. it is canon fact that he doesn’t like accepting or asking for help with stuff like this, and yes there are a couple big moments where he does, but like i bring up a couple times in the fic, mental health struggles are a big jump from like, a physical fight using swords and axes and shit. and this i think is really accurate to a lot of people’s struggles with mental illness, just taking that first step and admitting that you don’t feel okay, and that you need someone’s help to deal with it. that’s super super scary even to admit to like, your closest friends.

so that’s why magnus kind of shies away a number of times from some of the conversations that people try to start with him about mental health. taako and carey and lucretia and pretty much everyone else approach him at some point about opening up about this stuff, but he pulls away because admitting that kind of vulnerability to someone else is super scary, even if you’ve maybe admitted it to yourself already.

i also wanted to make sure that at the end of the fic, he wasn’t magically better. this is something else that i think people kind of forget, like... trauma and the problems that it causes don’t go away just because of therapy and medication. those things help, they help you reform the ways you think about yourself and about the world, but they don’t change the struggles you’ve been through or the sometimes biological problems that are causing whatever issue you’re having. and i remember reading a lot of fic when i was a kid where someone would be depressed, and then they’d fall in love and get magic dick or something and then they’d never be sad again, which... isn’t great.

but at the same time, i didn’t want it to end on this note like, oh everything is still bad even though he worked so hard to open up and get help, because that sucks, too. so it was really important to me that the fic end on a hopeful note, like, magnus isn’t cured. he still has bad days and bad weeks and sometimes he is just as low as he was before, but he also has like, normal days, which is something that i think you kind of forget can even exist when you’re depressed, or when you’re dealing with any mental illness. but like, i really wanted it to be obvious that things did get better and even if he’s still coping with it and it’s not going away, he’s okay. he’s gonna be all right.

on an unreliable narrator:

this kind of plays into some of the mental health stuff, but one thing that i love about taz that i really wanted to play into with this fic is the idea of limited perspective. griffin does some really cool fucking things with this, specifically in relation to the ipre and the big reveal in the last lunar interlude, with the idea of like... a character can only know the things that they know. like, magnus knows that there is a picture of him depicted as a red robe, and barry knows that they’re all red robes, and taako knows that they found the umbra staff next to a red robed skeleton and that the umbrella spelled out lup at one point, but none of them necessarily know all the things that the other person knew, and none of them know all the things that lucretia knows or that fisher knows or junior knows, etc etc.

unfortunately, just because the pace of the story picks up so much in that last lunar interlude, there isn’t a whole lot of space to explore that like, disconnect between all these facts that they each have as individuals. and given the perspective of mental health and the way that plays into your perceptions of yourself and your perceptions of other people’s perceptions, i really wanted to delve into like… magnus’s misunderstandings.

this is not a strictly straightforward unreliable narrator situation, but i did bring in some elements of that. i really wanted to explore the disconnect between how magnus sees and how everyone else sees him and his issues. there are also a couple moments where he flat out completely misinterprets their intentions, which unfortunately i didn’t delve into as much as i wanted to so they ended up mostly being fun easter eggs for, uh… me? i guess?

one of those moments is the scene in ch 4 where barry and magnus are sitting in the kitchen and barry starts to ask magnus something. magnus assumes it’s going to be about his mental health, and that this is barry stepping up as representative for everyone else to talk to him about it, but it’s really meant to be a precursor to their conversation in ch 6 where they talk about barry and lup and marriage and proposals.

magnus gets a little perspective on this later, i think in ch 7(?) where he’s thinking about how maybe their lives don’t completely revolve around him and he’s missing some of their perspective. but like, they all have their own shit going on, and they all love him and they’re worried about him, but also, barry is thinking about lup. lup is thinking about taako. taako is thinking about lucretia. lucretia is thinking about davenport, and davenport is thinking about his own issues, and so on and so on and they’re not all just like… waiting to pounce on magnus the second he shows weakness.

a lot of that plays into the hypervigilance of ptsd, too. magnus is very aware of any perceived threat, and he sometimes treats the people around him as threats, when all they’re doing in reality is thinking like, man i wish he didn’t live out here by himself all the time.

on a more meta note, i also have a tendency to make every character i write just like, a super good judge of character. i don’t think magnus is that, and i really wanted to lean into that. magnus does not read intention super well, even when that intention is genuinely good.

on the ipre and their relationships:

so i… really don’t write gen fic a lot. even when i do, it is almost always tinged with a little bit of background shipping, and there is some of that in this, but whereas in most fandoms i end up being a multishipper, for some reason with taz i’ve ended up pretty much only caring about the canon ships (sorry…). that being said, the platonic relationships in taz (and especially in balance) are some of the most compelling and important fictional relationships that i’ve ever encountered. like, they are just really well fucking done.

this being the magnus love letter that it is, i really wanted to focus on magnus’s distinct relationships with every member of the ipre crew. i don’t know how obvious this is in the actual narrative, but with the exception of the interlude and the epilogue, the story is broken down into one chapter for each member of the starblaster crew (in order, magnus, taako, merle, davenport, barry, lucretia, lup). i did this specifically because it was really important to me that i dive into all of them and their particular issues. i didn’t quite get the deep dive with merle or davenport that i would’ve liked to, but hopefully in the future i’ll get more time to explore that.

anyway, in case it isn’t obvious, lup is probably my favorite fictional character literally ever in any media created by anyone in the history of time. i say this only because a lot of this fic was set up to build to the conversation between her and magnus in ch 8 out on the mountain where he finally opens up for the first time. there are some really incredible unexplored parallels and relationships in taz (unexplored mainly because like, where would it even fit in canon), and while some of them are super self indulgent (ie, lup and mags, barry and mags), i really really really wanted to dig into those a little more. things like the conversation where taako is talking about everyone brushing over his trauma to rush to forgive lucretia, or lucretia talking about trying to learn to love writing again and recognize happy moments, davenport almost admitting that he’s not completely sure about stepping back into the family in his former role… i could write an entire fic on any of these, really.

but ultimately, this being a magnus fic, i tried to filter those conversations through a perspective of two things: first, how does this affect magnus and his mental health journey, and second, what can magnus do to help this. those scenes where magnus is trying to help someone with something and they’re like, backhandedly helping him are some of my favorite interactions in the fic.

the other thing i really really really wanted to explore that i never see enough of in fic is magnus and carey’s relationship. carey is canonically magnus’s best friend, and yet in fic i feel like she gets pushed to the side a little in favor of the starblaster crew. which i get, they’ve got a hundred and ten years of shared trauma, but also, travis flat out states that carey is magnus’s best friend, so… i mean, there is also a little bit of self indulgence here, because i am also a man who is exclusively best friends with lesbians, but you know.

that being said, i really wanted to emphasize that relationship in particular, which is why carey doesn’t have her own dedicated chapter and instead kind of slides in and out of each one and slowly helps magnus along the way. her personality i also feel is like, the exact kind of thing that magnus needs to push him into accepting / asking for help and moving towards recovery.

on real life parallels:

ok, i swear to god i did not intend to make this a holiday fic posted during the holidays. i started writing this in june, and again, it was only meant to be like 20k and not necessarily entirely set during candlenights. that kind of happened, anyway? candlenights just seemed like the best vessel to get all these characters whose post-canon situations i wanted to explore into the same room, and i finished the first draft around mid october and i wanted to give myself plenty of time for editing, so it honestly just ended up coincidentally aligning with the holidays. go figure.

that being said, isolation ended up featuring pretty heavily in this fic. that i think is to be expected to a certain degree given the nature of mental health and recovery and blah blah blah, but i probably unintentionally ended up leaning into it a little more because like… this year. and the holidays tend to be a time that a lot of us feel really isolated, and this year especially, but one of the big things for me this year is that like, all of my friends live out of state. the closest one to me is still a good 2-3 hour plane ride, which i am absolutely not risking. i had like a hundred plans to go see people and do things this year, and those obviously got cancelled.

probably the biggest one of those things was seeing a friend who i have kind of started a new years tradition of seeing, but we ended up calling that off out of safety considerations, of course. and it sucks! it’s not fun! i also moved out this year and i have my own place and in june i was really hoping that things would be okay by now and i could have all my friends come in from out of town for new years and that didn’t happen. and i wasn’t intending for this fic to be a kind of wish fulfillment of like, here’s my new place post-[saving the universe / coming out and becoming a real person], let me show my found family around my hometown and let’s make new holiday traditions together now that we’re no longer [fighting the apocalypse / literal children] and everything will be fun and happy and good, but that is kind of what happened anyway. [insert joke here that goes like “do you project your real world problems and mental health issues onto fictional characters or are you normal?”]

but yeah, magnus’s mental health struggles did kind of accidentally become a little bit of a pandemic / quarantine life parallel. i did not mean for that to happen, but it did help me tease out a little bit of what it is that i feel like i’m missing and what i want in the future when things are better, and i hope it helped some other people figure that stuff out too, maybe?

and in conclusion:

i said this a little bit in the final notes in the fic, but i am so so so grateful and emotional over the comments i’ve gotten from some of you. i’ve said it already, but this was such an emotional rollercoaster for me to write. i put a decent amount of my own mental health issues into the stuff i wrote into magnus, and it was genuinely therapeutic and like… super helpful and important. it was also a big struggle, and there were some scenes i came out of feeling incredibly drained and like i needed to not write for a week.

so that being said, those of you who have commented things about how this fic helped you deal with your own emotional turmoil or helped put something in perspective for you, i am genuinely so happy to hear that i’ve impacted you in that way like, at all. that is so incredible to me, and not necessarily what i set out to do, but it means so much to hear someone say that and also to know that someone felt comfortable sharing that with a stranger on the internet. thank you so so so much.

again, this fic means so much to me. the fact that it’s impacted even a handful of people in that way is absolutely amazing. some of the things you guys have said have had me seriously choked up. i am so glad that anyone even took the time to read all 133k of this, let alone that it affected people like that.

i don’t know if i’ll be writing more about magnus in this universe. i would love to! but i’m also super happy with where i’ve left his story. i have plans to explore the calen thing in the future, but only kind of tangentially in a side mention and not fully, so who knows? there is more though, a lot with taako and kravitz and lup and barry and hopefully one day i will find the motivation somewhere in me to flesh out everyone else’s situations a little more, too. who knows!

anyway, i just want to say thanks again to everyone for reading, and even more so if you are reading this dumb essay. you’re super cool.

#txt #fic talk

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doubleshotofsomething · 4 years ago

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Needy

[This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU challenge. This is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song “Needy” by Ariana Grande, the prologue and epilogue do not count as part one/three.]

The person you’re supposed to be with, isn’t always the one you’re meant to be with.

Summary: You can’t fight fate and expect the battle to be fair.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda x Bucky

Warnings: anst (ANGST), abuse (im so sorry), panic attack mentions, mental disorder references, attempted murder (for like 5 seconds tho), absolutely no fluff (if it looks like fluff then it’s a lie). Please be warned, im bad at warnings but this may be a triggering chapter so proceed with caution.

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt

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Prologue Part One Part Two

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Part Three: [ How you even think it got this far?]

"What-- the fuck did you do?"

You blink at him, eyes wide with anticipation as you watch him assess the situation.

The party was still going on somewhere in the tower. It was fun, for the first hour. Then it got boring, so you found Sam, a bottle of whiskey, and ditched to the residential floor.

Sam is next to you, expression matching yours as you both feign innocence – you more than him.

"This is—" Nat pauses, walking further into the room and stopping just a few feet to your right. "—this is actually cute."

"Thank you," the words slip out of your mouth far too quick for your control. Your eyes widen at your admission and you squeak as Sam jabs at your side with his elbow. "ouw!"

You glare at him and he glares back, head nodding to a slowly angering Bucky.

"You—" Bucky grits his teeth, picking up one of the swans you had made with the dress, "—you ruined it."

"We improved it." Sam chimes in, earning a pitiful elbow from you.

The swans were terrible. The internet wasn't as helpful as you had thought it would be and making a swan out of cloth was surprisingly harder than you thought it be too. Especially when you do it after Sam found Thor's secret stash of Asgardian mead.

"Twas actually harder than you'd think," You find yourself adding, "google isn't that user friendly."

"—and the instructions were in hieroglyphs." Sam nods, facing scrunching up in confusion and then he turns to look at you. "You speak hieroglyphs?"

You shake your head at that. "I think it was Korean—"

"—it couldn't have been."

"How would you know? You don't even speak it hieroglyphs—"

"Widow probably speaks it—"

"She could have translationed it for us! Why didn't we think of that!"

Nat blinks at you both, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes land on a flask next to one of the swans. "Oh."

Bucky is shaking, the sound of metal plates shifting echoes in the room as his eyes land on the beads scattered on the table. He looks back at the remnants of the dress in his hands, and he can't find it in himself to calm down. Not when he knows what this dress means, not when you know what it means to him.

"Steve made us do it." You say, smiling innocently at him.

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, definitely."

"It was a pretty shit dress—" Nat adds, nodding her head as she picks up a swan. "This is justice."

"Also, it's bad luck to see the—" You pause, hiccup, and frown as the word escapes you, "—female groom?"

You look to Sam for assistance and pout, he shrugs. "Don't look at me, I wanted to make ducks."

"Yeah, but ducks are difficult to make—" You pause, "—my battery is still at 40%, I know where the suits are."

He grins, wide and devilishly. "I'll look for the other flasks."

You don't get to make ducks or get the suits. You end up hanging over Bucky's left shoulder as he barrels his way down to the parking lot, stomach churning from your position and completely uncomfortable.

"At least let Steve mandle me, he’s nicer." you try to push yourself up, hands pressing into his back as you try to find some comfort.

Steve chuckles as he watches you pout from in front of him. In his hands are the keys to Sam's car and your purse, along with your coat and gloves.

"Manhandle is the word you're looking for, doll." Steve says, unlocking the car and opening the back door.

Bucky places you inside, surprisingly gentle, as compared to his brutish behaviour, and practically growls at you when you try to wiggle away from him.

"Sit. Still." His words come out through gritted teeth as he clips your seatbelt in place. "Don't even think about it."

You move your hands away from the seat belt clip slowly and feign innocence. "Can I at least say bye to Cap?"

The door slams shut before you even finish your sentence, but you still yell out a goodbye anyway while Bucky yanks open the driver's side door.

He gets in gracefully, throws your stuff onto the passenger seat roughly, and speeds out of the Tower's underground parking before the doors even fully open.

He's quiet the entire drive to your place, tense and stiff in his seat. You're fidgeting in your seat behind him – poking at the back of his neck and trying to get him to open a window— completely unremorseful.

It baffles him, the lengths you're willing to go to get your point across. The damage you're willing to do. It completely blows his mind, the things you're capable of doing – just to get what you want.

He tells you that, as he carries you up to your apartment. Continues to tell you that, as you retch into the toilet and then helps you change into your pyjamas. Doesn't even stutter as he goes on while making you finish up the coffee he made.

You glare at him and his control falters, frowns at that uncanny familiar sensation gripping at the base of his skull.

"—it's not like she was gonna wear it, anyway." You mutter, taking a gulp of the coffee, "you can't marry her now."

"Wha—" his voice cracking cuts him short, a shiver races through him as he tries to blink.

You're sitting on the counter, trapped between both of his arms on either side of you, and he breaks eye contact to look down at the cup in your hand.

"She knows that we're mates," you continue, completely oblivious. "She's great, I like her, honestly. But she can't fight fate, or nature. It would've made cents—scents—" you frown, and glare at the crown of Bucky's head, as if you'll find the word you're looking for there. "—whatever. It doesn't matter. Neither does this wedding, because— come on, let's be honest. No one wants to be with our kind, it’s too risky. We are the defamation of— deformation— what?"

He should find this cute. He usually does. But he can't, not now, not when he can feel the sweat pooling at the back of his shirt. Not when that prickling feeling is clawing up his spin, that trickle of fear – foreign and yet familiar – why was it so familiar?

"Stop—" he rasps, pushing himself away from you, putting as much distance between the both of you as possible.

You frown, setting the cup down and slide of the counter. "Buck—" your knees knock when you land on your feet, and you have to grab onto the counter to keep you from falling. "—Bucky?"

"Stop." His hands are in his hair, gripping furiously as he shut his eyes. "No."

He has done this before, deflecting from the topic at hand, changing it in a way that made you not want to touch it.

Coffee mugs crushed in his hands. I'll talk to her, don't worry about it.

Fists slammed into dinner tables. For fuck's sakes, I said I'll do it, it's been a really stressful weak as it is.

Doors banged off their hinges. Wanda is not some mate-stealing monster, damnit! I won't have you shit-talking her like this.

Broken plates scattered on the floor, while on their way to the kitchen. Are you fu— doll, please, I didn't come here to fight. Okay? Let's just... not, right now.

You had listened, each time, because he was there with you and not with her. You let him deflect every time, because he needed that from you, and you could never deny him – not that you'd try. You had listened and, in turn, the wedding wasn't called off.

You were done listening.

"You can't walk away every time I bring this up, Buck—" you follow him into the living room, "—I'm not some groupie you can't shake. I'm your soulmate, and you're gonna have to face that fact sooner, rather than later."

"Just—" he breathes out, "—stop talking, for once."

"You can't seriously be mad at me, right now—"

You need to stop.

"I'm not wrong for wanting us to be together, and you know that." You point out, frowning as the chair he’s leaning against begins to crack under his grip. "—okay, fine. We can change the topic, if it's that upsetting!"

He really needs you to stop.

There's a tug at your chest, faint but strong enough to make you look down in confusion, before you realise it's the matebond.

Except, the pull feels different this time. It's an uncomfortable sting, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, and you frown. It has never felt like this, not even when you had first found Bucky, never this... this... alarming?

You look up at your mate and you think that's why. You think it's because he's distressed, that this is serious, that it's another one of his attacks.

So, you go to him, because you need to. Because the feeling won't relent. Because it's in your nature to be what he needs you to be.

The stinging seems to worsen the closer you get, furious as it spikes an increase in your heart rate, and you hate yourself for a second – knowing that you've caused this. This is happening because you went on a rampage and ruined Wanda's wedding dress.

She liked that dress. You know that because he told you. Because it was bought on the same day that you had met Bucky. Because he couldn't stomach the thought of her never being able to wear it for their wedding, once it's called off...

And you decided to turn into swans.

His hand is on you, around your throat, backing you into a wall as it squeezes.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to register, to realise what is happening. And, for some reason, all you can think about was how it was the first time he used his hand – his actual hand – to touch you.

And, suddenly, you prefer the left hand.

It's too late.

By the time he comes to, you're already on the floor.

You're unconscious, your cheeks are wet and your neck is bruising.

He's standing over you, confused. He calls your name, shakes you, but you don't wake.

There's a pulse, he checked, and you're breathing, he double-checked.

He can still feel you, so he tells himself that that's a good sign as he carries you to bed. He sets a bottle of water on your nightstand, charges your phone for you, and scribbles down a note.

Call me when you wake up.

He can't seem to start the car, or remember why you ended up on the floor, so he calls Steve.

He doesn't tell him what happened over the phone, but he does when he arrives. He tells him what he can remember, about the yelling and then putting you to bed and that blank gap between the two.

Shit, Buck. Steve swears, so he knows it's bad.

You're going to hate him in the morning, he knows this, but why isn't he feeling the bond pull him to you. To fix this.

That's what it usually does, doesn't it?

That's why he always came back after every fight, isn't it?

There would be the fighting and arguing and the breaking of things. You would kick him out and ignore him. He would feel bad and make up for it, he had to – he always had to. He could never fight that feeling.

Why wasn't it there, now?

Wanda was there when you woke.

Bruce was there, too. Checking you, helping you, telling you what to do and what not to do.

You're all quiet, except for Bruce as he speaks only when necessary. She's in the background, leaning against your dresser, while you try to go about your morning routine in the afternoon.

Bruce called your work and put in a sick leave for you, had Dr Cho sign a sick note for you. He even scheduled an appointment with Cho for you, a proper scan once you can get out of bed.

You blame the mead, how could you not? It had to be it, because there is no way, in heaven or hell, that Bucky could...

Bruce only stays for as long as he needs too. He's a match, the thread match, and he can't stay away from Nat for too long. So, he leaves… she doesn't.

It's awkward, as expected, and ugly and anxiety inducing.

You ruined her wedding dress, cut it into pieces and turned it into a plaything for you and Sam. You remember that part because you did it while you weren't completely shitfaced.

She's marrying the man that you want, the man that's supposed to be yours, and it would be easy to get you out of the picture – get rid of you so you wouldn't put Bucky through this anymore. But she doesn't, because she understands.

She understands because you don't know.

You don't know what they did to him, what they had to do to get him to be the soldier they wanted. You don't know what he went through, what they put him through when he resisted.

And he could never tell you that. Because it's not your fault that they used your bond to turn him into a monster. It's not your fault that they turned the only good thing he had, the one thing that was his, into a weapon. He couldn't tell you that...

"He's in Wakanda." Wanda says softly, eyes locking on yours as you both watch each other from opposite ends of the room. "Bucky."

You want to ask why, she can tell, so she explains.

"When he was put under, again, we thought—" she swallows, rubbing circles in her chest to ease the knot, "—we thought that he could be..."

You give a slight nod of understanding, adjusting the continental pillow behind you back.

You knew what Hydra had done to him, what they had turned him into. Anyone who was anyone knew.

"So," she sighs, "when he came back to the team, we all thought he was okay. I thought he was okay, I mean—I checked to make sure he was okay... But... we know, now that he wasn't. I didn't think it could happen, especially not now. I mean—"

She pauses and looks at you. You can see the struggle on her face, the hesitance to continue, and you frown.

Wanda found out about you on the same day that Bucky did. He told her immediately, over the phone, didn't even wait until she got back to the compound.

He said it didn't change anything, that your presence didn't change anything, but she knew. She knew it did.

He couldn't balance between her and a mate, she didn't want him to. So, he decided to introduce you to each other.

She liked you instantly, how could she not? You were exactly what she expected Bucky's mate to be, and more. But he didn't care.

She wanted to call things off, but he wouldn't listen to reason. She wanted him to understand, to know that she wouldn't hate him if he didn't choose her. Because she knew better; fate had chosen, and it wasn't her.

It's my choice, he persisted. And I love you. She'll just have to understand, because I'm not leaving you.

You were fate's choice for him.

But he had had enough of people choosing for him; the army, hydra, the UN, and now, you?

No one knows what's best for me, except for me. We're getting married and that's final.

He wouldn't back down and she couldn't fight him. She loved him more than she could ever understand, who was she to choose for him?

"Hydra did things, things that shouldn't be possible," she continues, her voice steadier than she expected. "Once they had their hands on the tesseract, they did things to him that — I don't think we can fix…"

You can feel him, sort of... it's barely there, the bond, but you can still feel him.

She folds her arms across her chest. "Whatever you said last night, whatever it is you did— it triggered him back."

You blink. Once. Twice. Then, all at once, it sinks in and your stomach tightens.

"What?" Is your reaction, whispered and you can barely register the voice as yours.

"They're gonna try and reverse it, like before—" Wanda rushes the words out, but it's too late. Her previous words are already sitting on your chest and you're finding it hard to breathe. "—they've done it once; they can do it again—"

The realisation hits you, hard, and you have to force yourself to breathe.

Because now you understand why, you know why the link had felt that way – why the ache intensified as you got closer to him.

"I threw the bond in his face," your voice cracks and your throat aches as you speak. "I told him that— oh."

It was warning you, the bond, and you ignored it. It was feeling threatened, and you ignored it.

How could you be so selfish?

Wanda is sitting in front of you before you can even blink, trying to calm you down, begging you to calm down, to breathe...

Damn it, why couldn't you breathe?

"I can never have him, can I?" You're gasping, practically wheezing, and your nails dig into Wanda's arm.

The pain is there, she feels it, but she's too busy worrying about your escalating heart rate to focus on it. "Y/N, please, breathe—"

You're shaking your head, frantic and harder than your headache can handle. "What did I do— what did I do— what did I do—"

"Hey—hey— hey, look at me!"

"I ignored it—" your chest hurts and you don't understand why, "—it was, it was here—" you let go of her arm to pat your chest, "—right here, it was here. The bond. I could feel it. And he was begging me to stop and trying to leave, but I didn't listen— Wanda, I didn't listen—"

Wanda doesn't know what to do, not even Bucky had gotten this bad before. This was new territory for her.

You were too far gone to listen to anything she was saying, and she was too busy panicking to know what to do. How does she fix this?

"I need you to calm down, please— oh my god!"

"Why wouldn't I listen? I just wanted him to— you know? I just wanted him to choose me—"

"Y/N! Y/N! Please, I need you to—"

"Because I didn't— I just wanted to have him. And now— I broke it. It's broken. I broke it, Wanda. I broke it—how could I— he needed me to just— and I broke it—"

"Sam— help me! I don't know what's happening— she won't stop— "

It was unchartered territory.

Reversing the trigger through the matebond wasn't possible, especially when the stones had been returned to their timelines.

The only option they had, that Shuri could provide, was completely erasing every single one of his memories. Every, last, one.

Clean slate. No Wanda, or Steve, or you.

You would still remember though, everyone will. So, there really wasn't a point.

You told Wanda – days later, when you were well enough to leave for your appointment with Dr Cho and found her there – it wouldn't be necessary.

"He doesn't have to go under," you said, fidgeting with hem of the hospital. "I'll stop... I'll stop everything."

She shook her head, ready to protest. "You don't have to do any of that, I'm not going to marr—"

"Please do." You stopped her, shaking your head. You'd done enough damage as it is. "He chose you. He's fought me at every turn because he wants you. I'm not—"

Why was it so easy to say all this?

"I'll still be there, when he needs me— for whatever it is, but only for that. He's yours," he doesn't want me anyway, "We're mates, not matches, we don't have to be together for this to work—"

"You don't know what you're saying—"

"The world has taken enough from you— I've taken enough from you, Wanda. Let me give you this, at least."

You could live without him. You've done it before.

How hard could it be?

Tagging: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan , @decadentsoulbiscuitgoth [sorry i took so long, won’t happen again :) xx]

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silverlightqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Ruin My Life - Part 10

RML masterlist

(fratboy!Jimin - lots and lots of FLUFF & smut - no more angst y’all whoop !!)

Summary - y/n and Jimin are super soft for each other and all of their friends are super soft and everything is just super super soft in this chapter

Word Count - 11.7k+

Rating - Mature (explicit sex scene)

Warnings - alcohol consumption, talk of drugs and violence, penetrative (soft) sex, a bit of dirty talk but mostly soft talk, protected sex (y/n and jimin finally learned their lesson lmao), oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jimin gives y/n A LOT of hickeys, I think that’s it but lmk if I missed something !!

a/n: hey y’all ! okay I know I said the previous part might be the penultimate part but I ended up writing a lot more, and I’ve still got a lot I want to write lmao so I think the part after this will be the penultimate part, or maybe this part will be the penultimate part and I’ll add an epilogue ! lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist even tho it’s nearly finished :( x

silverlightqueen masterlist

taglist💕: @keylowmonie @jennafromhome @btrombley13 @parkjammys @chubschimmine @flowingwiththewater @magicalpjm @sakurauchiha2018 @kyrie1707 @simonemothjensen @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @p-yoon @pjmcth @strawberrym0chii @bts223 @lovethatforme97 @songwingi

‘Come in!’ I hear Jimin’s voice call from inside and push open the door of the dance studio, carefully balancing his breakfast in my arms. I expect it to just be Jimin in there, but the room is full of people dressed in sports gear, all stretching on the floor. ‘Oh. Sorry, I must be early,’ I say, checking my watch and seeing that it says 8.57. ‘It’s okay, just come sit by me,’ Jimin says from where he’s sat on the floor, legs spread and leaning back on his hands, the biggest smile on his face. I smile back, walking around the edge of the room to join him. I put the food and drinks down on the desk behind him before leaning down to give him a quick hug from behind, taking a seat on the desk. He carries on with the class, Jeongyeon at the back avoiding all eye contact with me. It’s Thursday today, five days since the drama at the bar on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Jimin and I had a lie-in on Sunday, and even when we woke up, we just lay there, cuddling, Jimin playing with my hair. We didn’t get up until 3, and Jimin left with the promise of doing this right, not just jumping back into bed with each other. He said he wanted to actually take me on dates and be like a normal couple, and he’s stuck to his word. On Monday, he was waiting outside of my lecture for me with flowers and he took me to lunch. On Tuesday, I invited him over to watch a movie together and order takeout, and we did just that, nothing more. Yesterday, he invited me and Mija over to the frat for Wings Wednesday (and Jackson and Chen were there too!) and then we went up to his room to watch Netflix before he dropped me back at home. We didn’t have anything planned for today, and I know we don’t need to see each other every day, but I wanted to surprise him.

When it reaches 9, he dismisses the dance students for their half an hour break. As soon as the last person has left the room, he pulls me up from the desk and pulls me into a hug, coaxing laughter from me. ‘You didn’t tell me you were coming!’ he exclaims, and I grin. ‘I said I would, remember? All those weeks ago? Anyway, I brought you some breakfast,’ I say, holding up the bag, and he delves into it with a grin. He instantly starts on the bagel I brought him, sipping on the coffee, and I sip on my own drink; a green tea. It’s not very nice, but I’m going to the gym in half an hour so it’s better to drink something healthy and good for me. ‘How’s your class going?’ I ask, and he shrugs, sitting back on the floor. ‘It’s okay. They’re a nice group of people, but some of them are a bit… difficult to work with. Some people have a natural talent for dance, and some people…’ he trails off, obviously not wanting to be mean. ‘Do not,’ I finish off for him, joining him on the floor, and he nods. ‘It’s fine, though. A bit of extra income and extra credit, so I can’t complain,’ he says, smiling widely at me. ‘Stop smiling at me like that,’ I say shyly, feeling heat rush to my face. ‘You’re so cute, though, how can I not? And you look… nice,’ he says, a suggestive smile spreading across his face and I swat at him with false annoyance. ‘I’m kidding! Well, I’m not, because you do look nice, but I don’t… you know what I mean,’ he says, and I nod, laughing. ‘I’m in my gym stuff and I’m not wearing any makeup, so you’re a liar,�� I say, and he gives me a horrified look. ‘Excuse me, princess, I hope you’re not being serious. You look beautiful no matter what!’ he exclaims, and I cover my face with my hands. ‘Stop it,’ I say, my voice muffled, and he laughs. ‘You never used to get this embarrassed when I complimented you before,’ he says with a soft smile. ‘Yeah, but now it’s different. Before, we were just… sleeping together. Now we’re dating, so I know you mean it,’ I say shyly, and he lets out a little laugh. ‘I always meant it, princess,’ he says easily, and I feel warm inside.

‘Anyway, have you got your outfit sorted for next weekend?’ he asks, referring to the ASP rager. ‘Um, no, I was just gonna wear something I’ve already got. A little black dress or something,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Why do I feel like you didn’t get the memo?’ he says, my heart dropping. ‘What memo?’ I ask, and he sighs. ‘Okay, yeah, you definitely didn’t get the memo. It’s themed,’ he says, and my jaw drops. ‘Jimin, please tell me you’re joking because nine days is not long enough to find an outfit,’ I say, trying to stay calm, and he shakes his head. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard to find an outfit that fits the theme though, y/n. It’s neon-slash-glow-in-the-dark,’ he says, and I take a deep breath. ‘Neon? Glow-in-the-dark? How… the hell… am I supposed to find something neon… or glow-in-the-dark… that no one else will be wearing… when everyone in the whole university will be there?’ I say slowly, trying to contain my anger at not being told. ‘Baby, you’ll find something, don’t stress. And even if you don’t, it’s okay. You wear whatever you want, it’s not like anyone will say anything to you,’ he says, subtly flexing his frat boy status. ‘Okay, but like, I don’t wanna stick out,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘You never stick out, baby, you stand out,’ he flirts, and I roll my eyes. ‘Not the time, Jimin,’ I say, desperately trying to think if I have anything cute and neon or glow-in-the-dark in my wardrobe. ‘Well, at least it’s not a costume party or something. That’s harder to find something for,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘That would’ve been perfect. I have a Sailor Mercury costume,’ I say distractedly, and Jimin looks at me confusedly. ‘Wait, why do you have a Sailor Mercury costume?’ he asks. ‘Long story. And a Red Riding Hood costume,’ I groan, annoyed that I wasn’t consulted before this ridiculous theme was chosen. ‘Are these sexy costumes? Because I would very much like to see these costumes. Preferably whilst you’re wearing them,’ he says, and I swat at him again.

‘How about I take you shopping this weekend and we find you something?’ he says as I pull out my phone. ‘I might be able to find something online, like on PLT or Missguided or something. If not, then we’ll go,’ I say, and he nods. ‘There’s that party this weekend too. You coming to that?’ he asks. ‘Whose party?’ I ask, momentarily distracted from frantically scrolling through the results for my ‘neon’ search on the PLT app. ‘Um, KPN,’ he says, and I choke. ‘KPN? Why the hell would you go to KPN’s party?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘They invited us,’ he says, and I choke again. ‘KPN invited you? Who in KPN?’ I ask. ‘Apparently, the brothers did a vote on whether or not to invite ASP and the majority said yes,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You have Chen and Jackson to thank for that,’ I say, and he nods in agreement. ‘So, will you come?’ he asks. ‘Umm, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. After everything that happened. Eunwoo will be there, and so will Jeongyeon, and probably Chungae too. I just can’t be bothered for drama at the moment,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Please, y/n? At the first bit of drama, we’ll leave. Come on, it’ll be one of our last parties before we graduate,’ he says, almost convincing me. ‘No, Jimin, it’s not worth it. I don’t want to risk it. You go, though, have some drinks for me. No drugs, though,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Okay. I’ll miss you,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘You dealt without me for two years, you can cope for one party,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I don’t know. I might forget how amazing you are and go home with someone else,’ he teases, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘The only people you should go home with should be your frat brothers,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement from what’s about to come out of his mouth, and I know it’s going to be stupid. ‘Is this a kink of yours I’ve stumbled across?’ he asks, holding back laughter. ‘Maybe,’ I say, the smile falling from his face. ‘Okay, I know I said I love you,’ he says, lips twitching, ‘but I’m telling you now; I’m not getting with a guy because you’re into it.’

‘Bitch, what the fuck are you doing?’ Mija asks, and I pause the TV, turning to face her. She’s dressed up in skin-tight jeans and a bodysuit of mine, sky-high heels on her feet. ‘Watching Dynasty,’ I reply, and she rolls her eyes. ‘I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you weren’t coming to KPN tonight,’ she says, coming to sit beside me on the sofa. ‘Mija, it’s not worth it. I don’t want to risk drama starting,’ I sigh, and she scoffs. ‘Bitch, who cares? We’re about to graduate and you’re gonna miss out on one of the last frat parties of our time here?’ she says, and I nod. ‘y/n, come on, this is crazy. We’re not young forever. You might as well make the most of every opportunity that comes your way. When we graduate, that’s it. There won’t be any more of this. This might be one of our last parties together. Don’t miss out because your stupid ex-friend and stupid ex will be there,’ she says, and I realise she’s right. How can I miss out on this? ‘Fine, but I’m gonna be a while getting ready,’ I say, and she grins. ‘It’s cool, Chen said their cut-off time is 5am,’ she says, and my eyes widen. ‘Damn, okay, we really going all out,’ I say, and she grins, her phone pinging a moment later. ‘Jackson’s outside. Shall I tell him to come up and we’ll wait for you?’ she asks, and I shake my head. ‘I’ll get an Uber or something, don’t wait. And don’t tell anyone I’m coming. I wanna surprise Jimin,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes amusedly. ‘You two are like a couple of high-schoolers,’ she teases. ‘And you and Jackson aren’t?’ I say, and she goes silent, surprising me.

‘Okay, what’s happened?’ I ask, and she sighs. ‘I… I don’t know. I like him, y/n, I really do. But I just don’t know if… I love him,’ she says, and I let out a soft laugh. ‘You don’t have to love him, Mija. Not yet, anyway,’ I say gently. ‘No, but, I look at you and Jimin, and-’ ‘Mija! Don’t be ridiculous! I would’ve thought you’d know not to compare yourself and your relationship to anyone else.’ ‘No, I know, but I just… I want something like what you guys have. Something that everyone can see coming, something that everyone envies, something that every knows is perfect. And I don’t expect that to happen yet, like I know it happens at different times for everyone. But I just don’t… I don’t see it happening with Jackson. It just feels like… flirting and sex with him. Nothing more, nothing… real. We’ve never had a deep conversation, nothing deeper than about our futures,’ she says, and I sigh. ‘Well, if you don’t think he’s the one for you, then that’s okay. You don’t have to persevere with it if you don’t see it working out. There’s no point wasting your time,’ I say, and she nods. ‘I also… I have a bit of a… crush on someone,’ she says, and I nearly scream. ‘Oh, my God! Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it?’ I exclaim excitedly, and she laughs. ‘Stop, it’s not that big of a deal. I… went shopping, last night, and I ran into Tae. He walked around the shop with me, and it was the most fun I’ve ever had shopping – not including when I’m with you, obviously. The conversation just flowed, and he made me laugh so much, and he’s so good-looking, and it just made me think back to that night in his room, after the KPN party,’ she says, and I squeal excitedly.

I remember her telling me about that night; they’d gone up to his room and instead of having sex, he asked her about her sexuality (because he’d just found out) and then they’d ended up having a really deep conversation about love and destiny and fate. She kept yawning and he asked her if she wanted to sleep, and so she fell asleep in his bed. When she woke up the next morning and he was asleep next to her, she was so scared, so scared about what had happened the previous night, that she left. Mija’s not the type of person for deep conversations and sleepovers. She’s more of a make-out-in-the-club followed by a one-night stand kinda girl. So it scared her that she’d connected with someone emotionally rather than physically, sexually. ‘Mija, this is amazing!’ I say, and she shakes her head. ‘Don’t get too excited. I doubt he’s still interested,’ she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. ‘No, Mija, I bet he is! He admitted to me, that night I went home with him – sorry about that, by the way – that he still had a crush on you. If you like him, Mija, go for it, please. Don’t squander this because you’re scared. You can’t just stick to what’s comfortable. Sometimes it’s scary to go into the unknown, but it pays off in the end,’ I say earnestly. ‘Don’t quote Frozen at me,’ she says, but I can tell she’s taken my words on board. ‘Frozen 2, actually,’ I say, just as there’s a knock at the door. ‘I’m gonna go get ready, but I’ll see you at the party,’ I say, both of us getting up. ‘I look forward to it. Wear something sexy,’ she says, and I grin. ‘Trust me,’ I say, ‘I have the perfect outfit in mind.’

‘y/n! You came!’ I hear Sana shriek the second I walk in, the girl enveloping me in a hug. ‘Hey, Sana,’ I say into her ear, touched at the warm welcome. ‘Jimin said you weren’t coming,’ she says, and I shrug. ‘I wasn’t planning on it, but we’re about to graduate, so I should make the most of every opportunity,’ I say, and she nods in agreement. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Jeongyeon is on her best behaviour,’ she says with a wink, and I laugh. ‘Bless you, Sana, you’re the best. You look amazing, by the way,’ I say. She’s dressed in a pink satin one-arm mini dress and white heels, her dyed pink locks matching the dress perfectly. ‘Says you. Jimin will drop dead when he sees you in that,’ she says, and I hide my face in embarrassment, feeling the heat rushing to my cheeks. I’m dressed in my best black jeans and a long-sleeve black velvet crop top, both items of clothing practically skin-tight. Joon’s silver choker rests around my neck, and a matching silver belt cinches in my waist nicely, small silver hoops in my ears and Jimin’s silver ring on my finger. I opted for comfort over height, so I’m wearing my black fluffy sliders, my white painted toenails on display. ‘Stop it,’ I say shyly, and she rolls her eyes. ‘Shut up, you know you look good. Go see your man, he’s in the kitchen,’ she says, and I grin.

I leave with the promise that I’ll dance with her later, and push through the partygoers to get to the kitchen. For the first time ever, people move out of my way, and my peers almost part to let me through. Perks of dating one of the most popular boys in the university, I guess. When I walk into the kitchen, I spot Jimin sat on a stool at the island, chatting to Chen, a beer in his hand. A few seconds later, Hoseok shouts my name, drawing everybody’s attention on to me. The boys all greet me warmly, hugs and smiles, and when I reach Jimin, his cheeks are slightly flushed. He pulls me into a hug before holding me at arm’s length, looking me up and down. ‘You look… good, princess. Like… really good,’ he says, eyes fixed on the choker for a moment, and I grin at him. ‘Thanks. I thought you’d like it,’ I say coyly. ‘I love it.’ ‘I love you,’ I say, and he grins. ‘That’ll never get old,’ he says contentedly, and I smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. ‘You look really good, you know. I like you in white,’ I say, and he grins. He’s dressed in a white shirt, the top few buttons undone, and a pair of ripped black jeans, a black Chanel necklace around his neck, the pendant resting between his collarbones. ‘You seem to like me in everything, baby,’ he smirks, and I roll my eyes. ‘Maybe I do, is it a crime?’ I joke, and he laughs, pulling me down towards him for another kiss.

‘Shall I get you a drink?’ he asks, and I nod with a smile. He jumps up, heading over to the fridge, and holds up a bottle of pink gin with a questioning expression. I nod and he grabs a clean cup, pouring me some out before mixing it with lemonade. He brings it over to me and hands it to me, bumping the cup with his own beer bottle before we both take a sip. ‘Thank you, baby. Oh, can you believe this? When I was walking from the front door to here, people were moving out of my way. Like, how crazy is that? I can get used to dating the most desirable guy in the university,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘y/n, it’s not because you’re dating me. It’s because you’re hot,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘People never used to,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘You’ve never worn an outfit so tight. To be fair, it’s probably partially because of everything that’s happened. Eunwoo’s face still looks busted, Jeongyeon’s been keeping a very low profile, Chungae got called out of her lecture by the police and she hasn’t been seen since, you and ‘Park Jimin’ are officially dating, and then you walk into a party looking like sin. Of course people moved out of your way,’ he says, and I give an acknowledging nod. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just weird,’ I say. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ he says in a fake snooty voice, and I swat at him, laughing.

‘I thought you were adamant you weren’t coming,’ he says casually, but I know he’s confused. ‘I was, but Mija gave me this speech about not letting opportunities pass you by, and I realised I was stupid to miss out,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘Well, I promise, if anything… kicks off, I’ll sort it,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘I don’t want you to sort it. I’ll just go to another room, or leave. I don’t need you to swoop in and save the day, Superman. Take a night off,’ I say gently, and he laughs. ‘Okay, baby, whatever you want,’ he replies softly, toying with his ring on my finger, and my heart jumps. ‘Can you keep hold of my phone for me?’ I ask as I jump up to sit on the island beside him, and he nods, taking it from me and tucking it into his pocket. ‘Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ he says, resting a hand on my thigh, ‘are you gonna be my date to that thing we’re doing? I’m sure you’ve heard about it.’ I fail to stifle my laugh and he raises an eyebrow. ‘What?’ ‘You’re the seventh person to ask me, so you’re in a queue,’ I say seriously, and his mouth falls open slightly. ‘Wait, seriously? Who’s asked you?’ he asks, completely bewildered. ‘In order, Joon, JK, Tae, Yoongi, Jin and Hobi,’ I list off, his eyes widening with each name. ‘Oh, my God, they’re such snakes. As if they asked you whilst we weren’t talking,’ he says, and I make an indignant noise. ‘They’re my friends too.’ ‘I know, but like… they’re my best friends. It’s like if Mija had asked me,’ he says, and I nod, stifling my laughter. ‘Are you really gonna put me in the queue?’ he asks sadly, and I nod, holding back a giggle. ‘But we’re dating. Doesn’t that give me like… a fast pass or something?’ he pouts, and I laugh. ‘If we can find dates for all the others, then I’ll go with you,’ I say, knowing I’ll go with him anyway but wanting to find dates for my friends too.

‘Oh, well, Joon can take Sana,’ Jimin says, both of us looking at Joon. He’s stood with JK and Jin beside the sink, but his eyes are on Sana, chatting with Jackson beside the door. ‘We’ve gotta get him to ask her,’ I say, Jimin nodding, eyes already scanning the room. ‘We should get Mija to go with one of the boys and Jackson to go with one of the boys, so they can both come,’ he says, and I wince. ‘Well, um, I don’t think they’re going to be together much longer,’ I say quietly, Jimin’s mouth falling open. ‘What? Really?’ he asks, eyes wide. ‘Yeah, but don’t mention anything to anyone. I’ll explain it all afterwards,’ I say, and he nods, still looking stunned. ‘Well, we still want both of them to come, right? But we’ll come back to that. What about… JK? Who can he take?’ Jimin asks, and I think. ‘Um… I saw him and LSG Nayeon dancing together at the bar last week. Is anything going on with them?’ I ask, and Jimin looks thoughtful. ‘I’ve seen her a lot recently, come to think of it, and usually when I see a lot of a girl, it’s because she’s seeing one of my friends. We can do some… interrogating and find out what’s going on with them,’ he says, and I nod. ‘Okay, so Joon and Sana, and maybe JK and Nayeon. What about… Yoongi?’ I ask, before remembering him dancing with Dahyun. ‘Oh, Dahyun! They were dancing together at the bar too. I’ll ask her about him as well!’ I say, getting excited. ‘Okay, we’ll do some subtle interrogation throughout the night. What about Tae and Hoseok? And Jin hyung?’ he asks. ‘Well, Tae was dancing with Tzuyu, but I don’t know about Hoseok or Jin. Maybe they could bring Mija and Chen, or Jackson? And then we’ll sneak the other one in,’ I say, Jimin laughing. ‘We should probably check with everyone to see if they’re okay with our plans first,’ he says, and I nod. ‘I think we should do some investigating. I’ll go and dance with the girls and try and find something out,’ I say, Jimin nodding. I press a gentle kiss to his cheek before downing my pink gin (and wincing, much to Jimin’s amusement) and jumping down from the counter, heading over to Sana.

‘Hey, guys,’ I say, reaching into the fridge beside them to get another drink. I spot WKD and I can’t resist (listen, I know it’s practically juice, but I’m not looking to get drunk tonight. I need to have my wits about me if I want to successfully dig for info, and get my friends dates for this party). ‘Hey, y/n,’ Jackson and Sana reply. ‘You guys wanna dance?’ I ask, Sana nodding eagerly. God, she’s so cute. I’d so be crushing on her if I were into girls. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ll come and join in a bit when you’re all drunk and have lost your inhibitions,’ he jokes, both Sana and I groaning in disgust. ‘You pig,’ I say, hitting his shoulder as he walks away, laughing to himself. ‘Come on,’ she says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the living room. It’s a little darker in here, and the room is packed full of people. There’s also a slight stench of body odour in the air, but I try to ignore it, knowing I have a far more important task at hand. I look around the room for Sana’s friends, and spot a bright flash of minty-bluey hair, knowing Dahyun is the only person in the university, maybe even the world, with that hair colour. ‘Ooh, your friends are over there, let’s dance with them!’ I suggest, and she agrees excitedly, leading us through the people to get to them.

‘Hey, y/n!’ Nayeon exclaims, throwing her arms around me. We used to be close, but as soon as Jeongyeon and I fell out, we didn’t see each other that often. I didn’t see many of the LSG girls at all, except for Sana, because we do the same course. I guess it’s never too late to reconnect. All of the girls hug me, Momo, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, Mina and Jihyo. Tzuyu either hasn’t come to the party or is somewhere else in the house, but I don’t worry too much. I have a feeling we won’t have to look for a date for Tae, considering Mija’s new feelings for him. A Rihanna song starts to blare out into the room, and we all shout (as people do when a good song comes on), beginning to dance with each other almost instantly. The songs continue and the time flies by, Mija joining us after a little while. We dance and dance until we’re all sweating and tired, and after two hours, I suggest we go and sit in the garden for a while. We pass through the kitchen, getting drinks before heading out through the back door. Conveniently, the table and chairs on the porch are unoccupied, and we quickly rush over before anyone else can get there. I sit on a two-seater with Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Momo sharing the other two-seater, Mija, Mina, Jihyo, Sana and Nayeon sitting in deck chairs.

‘You and Jimin are so adorable, y/n,’ Nayeon says, and I mentally thank her for bringing up boys. ‘Aw, thank you. It’s been a… tough journey, but we’re happy now,’ I say, all of the girls letting out ‘aww’s at that. ‘And you and Jackson, Mija! It was so unexpected, but I like it,’ Jihyo says, and Mija winces. ‘Funny you say that. We ended things on the way here,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. I thought she would wait until after the party, but obviously, she just wanted to get it out of the way. ‘Oh, God. Why’s that?’ Jihyo asks, all of the girls looking surprised. ‘I think it was just… physical chemistry with Jackson and I. We both knew it. I do like him, and I think part of me will always have a little crush on him, but I don’t think we were right together,’ Mija says, the girls nodding with understanding. ‘What about you girls anyway? Any relationships?’ Mija asks, and I look at Sana, the girl noticing my stare and her cheeks turn slightly red. ‘Um… well, I guess me and Namjoon are kind of… talking?’ she says, almost as a question, and we all squeal. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to admit it!’ Dahyun shrieks. ‘And me!’ I exclaim, Sana’s eyes widening. ‘How did you know?’ she asks, and I grin. ‘Namjoon told Jimin, and Jimin told me. Don’t you remember, that night at the restaurant when he brought it up?’ I ask, and she nods, remembering. ‘Has he asked you to this thing? The party they’re having?’ I ask, and she shakes her head. ‘Didn’t he ask you?’ she asks, the girls all looking at me in confusion. ‘Well, yeah, but only because he didn’t think I’d come. This was when Jimin and I weren’t speaking. But I thought he’d have asked you by now. What an idiot,’ I say, knowing that the next time I see Joon, I am forcing him to ask her.

‘Are any of the rest of you coming?’ Mija asks, and the girls nod. ‘Daniel’s taking me,’ Jihyo says, and I smile. Jihyo and Daniel, one of the ASP frat boys, have been together for a while, nearly a year now, and they’re so lowkey. They just do their own thing, don’t display their relationship everywhere for people to see. ‘I’m going with Jungkook,’ Nayeon says, and my eyes widen, a blush painting her cheeks. ‘When did he ask you?’ I ask, and she thinks. ‘A couple nights ago. He said he’d asked you, but obviously you’re gonna go with Jimin now, so would I be interested in going with him,’ she says, and I faceplant. ‘Why would he ask you by saying that?’ I say, wondering where that boy’s braincells are. ‘Because he’s an idiot,’ Nayeon says affectionately, and we all grin. ‘What’s going on with you two?’ I ask, and she shrugs. ‘I don’t know. We’ve been talking a little over the past couple weeks, but he’s really… shy,’ she says, all of our mouths falling open. ‘Jeon Jungkook? Shy? He walked in on y/n and Jimin and joined in,’ Mija says, the shocked faces turning to me now, and I cover my face. ‘It wasn’t like that. Jimin… invited him,’ I say, gasps running around the group. ‘God, y/n, you are literally living the dream,’ Dahyun sighs, and we all laugh. ‘Okay, anyway. Who are the rest of you going with?’ I ask.

‘Heechul actually asked me out a few days ago. We’d been talking for a while, but now we’re… yeah, boyfriend and girlfriend. So yeah, he’ll be taking me,’ Momo says, Mija and I squealing in excitement, the other girls obviously already aware. ‘Congrats, Momo, that’s great,’ I say, and she smiles shyly. ‘Chae?’ I ask, and she grins. ‘I don’t have a man like you lot, but Bambam didn’t have anyone to take so he asked if I wanna go,’ she says, rolling her eyes, and we all laugh. Her and Bambam have been good friends for a long time so it’s no surprise she’s going with him. ‘What about you, Mina?’ I ask. ‘Youngjae asked me. As friends, obviously,’ she says, in a similar situation as Chaeyoung. I ask Dahyun next and she frowns. ‘I haven’t been asked by anyone. But I’ll just get JB to take me, I’m pretty certain he doesn’t have a date. Or Mark,’ Dahyun says. ‘Single gang,’ Chaeyoung says in a sing-song voice, throwing her arms around Dahyun and Mina, both looking less than impressed, making us all laugh. ‘What about Tzuyu? And is, um, Jeongyeon going?’ I ask, all of them nodding. ‘Tzuyu’s been asked by Yugyeom, and Jeongyeon’s going with Jinyoung,’ Mina says, surprising me. ‘Yeah, we were surprised too, but she broke things off with that Jongho. I think it was just to try and get Jimin’s interest, but as soon as you two got together, she stopped seeing him,’ Nayeon says, obviously noting the surprise on my face. I’m also relieved that Tae hasn’t asked Tzuyu, meaning that he can take Mija now.

Just as I’m about to ask about Tzuyu and Yugyeom, the boys come outside, noisy and drunk. ‘Baby!’ Jimin exclaims when he spots me, stumbling towards me. ‘Hey, babe. I thought you weren’t gonna get that drunk,’ I say as I get up, letting him have my seat, before perching gently on his lap. ‘I’m not that bad, really. Just excited to see you,’ he says before pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek, making the girls smile indulgently at us. I spot Namjoon go over to Sana and she does what I did for Jimin. When she sits on his lap, he looks stunned at her bold move, his face reddening slightly, and I have to hold back laughter at how nervous and awkward they are. It’s adorable. Tae perches on the arm of Mija’s chair, the two of them already in deep conversation, and I grin to myself at the sight. ‘You guys have gone awfully quiet,’ Yoongi says with a raised eyebrow, all of us exchanging glances. ‘We were talking about your posh party thing, actually,’ I say, taking Jimin’s hand into mine. ‘Yeah, she’s coming with me, so you guys need to find dates,’ Jimin says, the boys laughing. ‘Well, I think a couple of them already have,’ I say pointedly, a light blush painting Jungkook’s cheeks as he looks down at his lap, Nayeon looking over at him with a smile from the other side of the circle we’re sat in.

‘But, anyway, Yoongi, who are you taking?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Do you guys all have dates?’ he asks the girls who all nod, except for Dahyun, who shakes her head. ‘Would you like to accompany me then, Dahyun?’ Yoongi asks, sounding casual, but the very slight blush on his cheeks betrays him. ‘I’d love to, Yoongi,’ she says with a grin, and I can’t help but smile at the exchange. ‘Wait, so who actually has dates now? It’s just me and Yoongi, right?’ Jimin says, and I grin to myself, knowing JK will have to come clean now and Namjoon and Tae will have to ask Sana and Mija, if they want to (which they do, let’s be real). ‘Um, well, I, um, me and, uh, Nayeon noona are going together,’ Jungkook stammers out, and I melt at how nervous he seems. The boys all look at him in shock, us girls exchanging a glance. ‘Yeah, we’re matching my dress and his tie. We going high school prom,’ Nayeon says, obviously trying to take all of the attention off Jungkook, who looks extremely uncomfortable. ‘Oh, my God, Jimin, we should so do that,’ I say, turning to look at him, and he smiles at me, his eyes full of love. ‘That sounds great, princess,’ he says softly, and I smile, pressing my lips to his. I love him like this; so loving and sweet all the time. He’s an angel.

‘I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me, Sana,’ Namjoon says, the girl blushing in response. ‘Yes, I’d love to go with you,’ Sana says, smiling from ear-to-ear, the smile reflecting on Namjoon’s face at her yes. ‘Four out of seven,’ Jimin says into my ear so only I can hear, and I grin. ‘Tae, do you have a date?’ Chaeyoung says shamelessly, Tae and Mija both looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Um, no, but I was planning on asking you, Mija,’ he says, looking at her, and she blushes instantly. ‘Yeah, I’ll come,’ she says as offhandedly as possible, but it’s obvious that they’re both pleased. I look at Jackson, worried he’ll be jealous, but he looks… wistful almost, a soft smile on his face. ‘Ahh, this is so exciting, like in the space of a minute, three new couples,’ Nayeon says, and both Yoongi and Dahyun look alarmed. ‘We’re not a couple,’ Dahyun says, Yoongi nodding in agreement, and Nayeon grins. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Well, what about the rest of us? Hoseok, Jin, who are you two taking?’ Yoongi asks, changing the subject. ‘I don’t know. Jackson, are you coming?’ Hoseok asks. ‘Yeah, but not as a plus one,’ Jackson replies. ‘Just be my plus one then, bro,’ Hoseok says, holding out a hand, and Jackson shakes it with a grin and a ‘my guy.’ ‘You be my plus one too, Chen. Unless, you were planning on bringing a date yourself?’ Jin says, and Chen shakes his head. ‘I wasn’t planning on that, so yeah, I’ll be your plus one,’ Chen says, both of them grinning. ‘Well, that’s sorted then. Everyone has a date!’ Sana says excitedly, and Hoseok looks at Jackson. ‘Bro! We should match our ties!’ he says, Jackson whooping in agreement, and we all laugh at them. ‘We should all match our ties, boys!’ Jackson exclaims, before his eyes land on Nayeon and Jungkook, his shoulders slumping. ‘Never mind,’ he says dejectedly. ‘No, you guys all should match your ties. That’s super cute. Imagine the pictures,’ Nayeon says, and I nod in agreement. ‘You sure?’ Jungkook asks, Jimin looking at me with the same question in his eyes, and I nod at him. ‘Yeah, definitely. Us girls can all have something matching too. Something the same colour as your ties!’ Nayeon exclaims, all of us getting excited. ‘We could have, like, cute little corsages or something!’ Mina suggests, various noises of agreement running around the group. ‘God, we really are going high school prom, huh?’ Chen says, all of us laughing.

Various conversations break out around the group, one about us going in limos, another a debate about what colour ties and corsages we should get, and another about ‘what if the colour of the ties and corsages don’t match our suits and dresses?’ ‘I’m gonna just run and get a drink. Do you want anything?’ I ask Jimin, and he shakes his head. ‘Want me to come with?’ he asks. ‘It’s okay. I’ll take Jackson with me,’ I say quietly before getting up from his lap. As I walk past Jackson to go inside, I latch my arm through him and drag him towards the door with me. ‘Come get a drink with me?’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Didn’t give me much of a choice really,’ he jokes, as we step into the kitchen. The party seems to have started emptying out already, and I check Jackson’s watch, the time reading 3.04. I open the fridge, rooting around as Jackson leans against the kitchen counter, checking his phone. I find a bottle of that sparkly Unicorn gin that everyone’s been raving about, not even open yet, and I celebrate, knowing someone must have tried to hide it. I won’t have too much. ‘Do you want some?’ I ask, holding the bottle up to Jackson, who shakes his head. I pour some out into a cup, and then top up the rest with lemonade.

‘Mija told me she broke things off with you,’ I say as I put the bottle away, thinking there’s no point in beating around the bush, and he nods, putting his phone back in his pocket. ‘Yeah, she did, on the way here,’ he says, and I sigh. ‘You okay?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yeah, I’m okay. I think… part of me knew it was coming. She wants something like what you and Jimin have, and I can’t give that to her, you know? That’s just not me yet. I’m still young and I’m not ready to be as serious with someone as you two are. Maybe, one day in the future, me and Mija will have the same mindset and it works out, but I think her and Tae are good for each other,’ he says, and I nod. ‘I just wish he hadn’t asked her in front of you, that soon after she ended things with you,’ I say, and Jackson laughs. ‘It’s totally fine, y/n, don’t worry. She deserves to be happy, and he can give that to her,’ he says, and I smile. ‘That’s very mature of you,’ I say, and he grins. ‘I’m a very mature guy, thank you very much,’ he replies, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘I wonder how Tae found out you two were over. She must have told him,’ I think aloud. ‘I told him, and I told him to ask her, too. He said, no joke, ‘the body’s not even cold yet’ and I said, ‘the body was never that hot though’,’ Jackson says, and I burst out laughing. ‘You’re terrible! She ended things with you, and you went and told another boy to ask her out,’ I say, laughing uncontrollably. ‘I want her to be happy!’ he replies indignantly, struggling to hold back his own laughter, and then we both notice that Mija has just walked in. Both of us stop laughing straight away, probably looking like two kids caught with their hands in the biscuit tin. ‘Lol. Thank you. I want you to be happy too,’ she says deadpan, as she goes into the fridge, and Jackson and I look at each other before bursting into laughter again. ‘Grow up, idiots,’ Mija says affectionately, shutting the fridge and heading back outside with a bottle of WKD in her hand, Jackson and I unable to stop laughing.

We head back outside, still giggling, and I go sit back on Jimin’s lap, sipping on my drink. Whenever I meet Jackson’s eye, both of us start laughing again, everyone else (except for Mija) really confused. The sixth time it happens, Jin loses his patience. ‘You two! Stop laughing or tell us what’s funny!’ he shouts, the whole group bursting into laughter at that. ‘The body…’ Jackson gets out before his laughter renders him speechless, and I can’t contain myself, practically screaming with laughter, the others laughing at how hysterical we are. ‘Right, let’s talk about next weekend,’ Namjoon says, looking much more comfortable with Sana on his lap now, the girl sat with her legs slung over his, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist. ‘Yeah, I’ve got a bone to pick about that. Why was I not told that it’s neon-slash-glow in the dark themed?’ I ask, instantly calming down and frowning. ‘Didn’t Jimin tell you?’ Jin asks. ‘Yeah, on Thursday. Why was I not told before that though?’ I say, all of the boys looking at each other. ‘I don’t know. I think we all thought you already knew,’ Yoongi says, the rest of them nodding in agreement. ‘Do you not have an outfit, noona?’ Jungkook asks me, and before I can answer, Namjoon says, ‘you don’t have to wear something neon or glow in the dark if you don’t want to. I get that it’s late notice, so you can just wear whatever you want.’ ‘Well, I have an outfit now, but that’s not the point,’ I say, having to raise my voice for the last part to be heard over the laughter. ‘You’re such a drama queen, y/n,’ Tae says, and I roll my eyes. ‘It’s the principle of the matter. I should have been told earlier than nine days beforehand,’ I say, and they all just shake their heads or roll their eyes at me.

‘What outfit have you got, y/n?’ Nayeon asks, and I sigh. ‘I ordered two things, but neither have come yet, so I don’t know which to wear. One of them is a black t-shirt dress with stuff written in neon green on the back and a little green logo on the front, above my boob, and then a neon green belt to go with it, so it’s like minimal neon. And then I ordered a pair of black cargo trousers with reflective lines down the sides and a bit down the fronts of my legs, I think, and then a reflective crop top,’ I say, the girls all listening with interest, the boys except for Hobi, Tae and Jackson seeming to zone out. ‘Ooh, that sounds boujee. Make sure you send us pictures of how both of them look when you try them on. Oh, my God, we should make a group chat!’ Dahyun says, all of us giving various agreements. ‘That’s gonna get muted,’ Yoongi says drily, and Dahyun raises an eyebrow at him. ‘I meant one for the girls, so relax,’ she says, equally as dry, and we all burst out laughing, Yoongi included. ‘We can make one with all of us too, so you can mute that one,’ she says afterwards, Yoongi nodding with a wide grin. We all continue to talk about outfits, the boys deciding to keep theirs a secret, and even Jackson and Chen are involved in their scheme. ‘But we told you all what we’re wearing,’ I say, pouting at Jimin who smiles at me. ‘It’s not that exciting, but we just don’t want anyone to find out, and you guys can’t keep your mouths shut,’ Jimin says, making me pout even more. ‘I can.’ ‘Yeah, about important things. A little thing like this, you would not keep it to yourself,’ he says, and I don’t know what to say, knowing that he’s absolutely right.

But before I even have to say anything, the back door swings open, Eunwoo stepping out onto the porch with a couple of his other frat brothers. Jimin was right; his face does still look busted, even more so in comparison to the very faint bruise Jimin sports on his eye. Jimin’s arms reflexively tighten around my waist, his body tensing slightly, and everyone falls silent, us looking at them and them looking at us. To my surprise, he nods at us, and we all nod or smile back, appreciating his civility. ‘Did you guys bring the five bottles of flavoured vodka?’ Eunwoo asks, the boys nodding. I’m surprised; people don’t really bring alcohol to parties and, if they do, it’s never that much. It’s obvious the boys are trying to create peace between ASP and KPN. ‘Thanks. The red berry one’s nice,’ Eunwoo says, holding up the cup in his hand. ‘You should try the peach. That one’s the best,’ Jimin says, Eunwoo nodding, and I’m proud of Jimin for being so mature. ‘Hey, Eunwoo, we’ve got our end of year rager thing next weekend. You guys should come,’ Namjoon says. ‘Thanks, Namjoon. We’ll be there,’ Eunwoo says, Namjoon smiling back at him. ‘It’s neon-slash-glow in the dark themed,’ I say, Eunwoo nodding. ‘We’ll come in neon wigs,’ Eunwoo says, all of us laughing.

Eunwoo and the other two come over, standing beside Jackson, and he takes a deep breath before speaking; ‘y/n, Jimin, I just, uh, wanted to say sorry to both of you for what happened last week. It was wrong of me to speak to you both like that and I think you should know that I’m seeing an anger management therapist now.’ ‘That’s great, Eunwoo, I hope that it works out for you. Keep me updated on how it goes,’ I say as kindly as possible, knowing it must have taken him a lot to apologise in front of everyone like this. ‘I will, thanks. And I also wanted to say that I’m happy for you both. It’s about time you stopped messing around and got together,’ he says, everyone laughing. ‘Honestly, bro, we’ve been saying that, like they might as well just get married,’ Tae says, prompting more laughter. ‘That would actually be the littest wedding ever,’ Eunwoo says, Jimin nodding in agreement. ‘It’ll be sick. We’ll have kegs and jelly shots and beer pong and-’ ‘Excuse me. This is our wedding we’re talking about, not a frat party,’ I say, scandalised at the thought of having these things at the wedding. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll do that stuff at the stag do,’ Hobi says, laughter rippling around the group.

‘Imagine the hen do,’ Mija says dreamily. ‘Oh, my God, we should go abroad! Ibiza! Or Vegas!’ Sana says. ‘Ooh, can I come on your hen do, noona?’ Jungkook asks with big eyes, and I nod. ‘No way! You can’t go to Vegas without me and take Jungkook,’ Jimin pouts. ‘We’ll all go together. Joint stag and hen!’ Nayeon exclaims excitedly. ‘Yeah!’ ‘No! The point of a stag do is to do the things you can’t do when you’re married. How can he do any of that stuff when his fiancée’s there?’ Yoongi says. ‘Well, it’s not like he'll be having any strippers or anything. Will you?’ I ask Jimin, a slight threatening tone to my voice, and he shakes his head hesitantly. ‘How about we do a gang holiday to Vegas, and then do stag and hen dos at home rather than abroad?’ Yoongi suggests, and all of nod in agreement. ‘That sounds like a plan,’ I grin. ‘What I want to know is how we’re gonna find the money to pay for a holiday to Vegas, a stag and hen do, and a wedding,’ Jimin says sceptically. ‘You guys can’t pay for your hen and stag dos! We’ll all chip in to pay for that,’ Mija says, all of the others nodding in agreement. ‘What I want to know is why we’re planning your wedding when you’ve been together a week,’ Jin says, bringing us all back to reality, and we all burst out laughing. ‘Let’s be real, everyone knows they’re gonna be together forever,’ Eunwoo says. ‘I’m not so sure,’ Jimin starts to say, and I slap his chest. ‘I’m kidding!’ he exclaims, everyone laughing. ‘Better be,’ I say as ominously as possible, unable to get the smile off my face, ‘you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.’ ‘Well,’ Jimin starts to say, looking at me with the biggest smile on his face, eyes shining with love, ‘good thing I don’t want to.’

We spend the next hour or so just chatting, and when the time reaches 4, I begin to yawn, tiredness catching up with me. ‘Tired?’ Jimin murmurs, arms wrapped around me and chin resting on my shoulder. I’m still perched on his lap, and I don’t know how he hasn’t complained about being uncomfortable yet. ‘A little,’ I reply, and he smiles indulgently as I snuggle further into him. ‘Shall we leave?’ he asks, and I nod, ready for my bed now. ‘Jungkook,’ Jimin calls to the younger boy, who looks over instantly. He and Nayeon are now sat together, his arm around the girl’s shoulder as she speaks animatedly to Taehyung, Mija and Chen about a cocktail she had three years ago in a bar in Malta and how hard she’s tried to recreate it. ‘Yeah, hyung?’ ‘You drove here right? And you haven’t had a drink, have you?’ Jimin asks. ‘Yeah, I drove, and, no, I haven’t had anything to drink.’ ‘Can we jump in with you?’ ‘Yeah. I’m dropping Nayeon and Dahyun off as well,’ Jungkook says. ‘Thank you, Kook,’ I say with a smile, feeling more and more sleepy, and he smiles at me. ‘It’s okay, noona. We’ll leave in a few minutes,’ he replies. ‘Mija, how are you getting back?’ I ask her, and she shrugs. ‘Who’s got space in their cars?’ Jimin asks, ensuing a long, confusing and logistical conversation about how people can get home without having to pay for taxis.

I zone out quickly, amusing myself with playing with the rings on Jimin’s hands, and it’s finally decided that Jungkook will drop Dahyun and Nayeon at LSG, drop me home and then head home with Jimin, Chen and Jackson will give all of the LSG girls a lift (and Jackson will drop Mija), and the ASP boys will all head home in Namjoon’s car. We all say our goodbyes, bidding goodbye to the KPN boys on our way out, and the drive back is a relaxed one, Nayeon and Jungkook chatting quietly upfront as I sit in the middle of the back, singing with Dahyun as Jimin watches amusedly. Jungkook pulls up to my accommodation first, and Jimin gets out of the car to let me out. I stumble as I get out, my feet aching and weak from hours of partying (the sliders might be more comfortable than heels, but their arch support is not it), and Jimin grabs me before I fall. ‘You okay?’ he asks concernedly, and I nod. ‘My feet are hurting a bit, but I’m fine.’ ‘Want me to walk you up?’ he offers, and I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to hold you guys up, just go,’ I say, Jungkook shaking his head through the open window. ‘You could stay here with her, hyung, until Jackson gets here. You can head back with him, and walk up from KPN,’ Jungkook suggests, Jimin nodding. ‘No, it’s fine,’ I say, but Jimin shakes his head before scooping me up into his arms, giggles falling from my lips. Jimin bids our friends goodbye, and I don’t even have the energy to fight him, saying goodbye too. He carries me the entire way up to the apartment and only puts me down once the door is open.

‘Do you wanna… come in, for a little while? While you wait for Jackson to get here?’ I ask, leaning against the frame of our apartment’s front door, and Jimin grins at me, sending a text to Jackson to let him know. ‘Are you trying to seduce me, y/n?’ he teases, and I give him a small smile. ‘You said it, not me. But I know you’ve said you wanted to take it slow, so you can just come in and watch something if you want?’ I offer, and he gives me a soft smile. ‘You’re cute,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut up and come in,’ I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the apartment. I lock the door and turn the lights on, both of us slipping our shoes off, and we head into my bedroom. ‘I’ve got some of your clothes. A pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt. Oh, and some boxers – they’re clean. D’you wanna get changed?’ I ask him as he takes a seat at the foot of my bed. ‘Yeah, I’ll get changed,’ he replies, and I rummage around in my wardrobe for his clothes. I hand them to him, and he gets up. ‘You don’t need to get changed in the bathroom… if you don’t want to?’ I say shyly, and he looks at me with soft eyes. ‘Are you sure, y/n? It’s only been a week, I don’t want you to rush into anything,’ he says, and I smile. ‘I love you, Jimin, and I don’t need to wait to know that, or to trust you,’ I say, and the most beautiful smile breaks across his face.

He throws the clothes onto the bed and holds out a hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me towards him, the suddenness of it making me lose my footing, and I fall against him, grabbing his shoulders to hold myself up. He steadies me (for the second time in the space of five minutes), his hands on my waist, and grins down at me. ‘Are you falling for me, y/n?’ he jokes, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut up,’ I reply, closing my eyes and sliding a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards me. His lips press against mine, our mouth moving together in a slow, passionate kiss, and then I break apart after a moment. ‘Do you maybe wanna text Jackson not to hang around outside for you? I mean, you could stay the night instead,’ I suggests, and he grins, pulling out his phone and texting Jackson again. ‘I’d much rather stay the night if that’s okay, princess,’ he says, and I smile softly. ‘Of course it’s okay. I love you,’ I reply gently, and he gives me one of his eye smiles, so full of love I nearly melt. ‘I love you more.’ ‘I love you most.’ ‘I love you more than that though.’ ‘You can’t love me more than I love you if I love you most.’ ‘Who says?’ ‘I… I don’t know. It’s just common knowledge. Like saying 9 is more than 10.’ ‘Who says it isn’t?’ ‘Because it just isn’t!’ ‘Who says?’ ‘Shut up and kiss me, moron.’

He leans towards me and kisses me, our lips melding together instantly, mouths moving in sync, and I sigh at the feeling, wishing to imprint onto the front of my brain. His tongue slides into my mouth within seconds, my body tingling with pleasure as his hands slide around to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. Our kiss quickly becomes heated, his hands desperately roaming over my body as I toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. After a few minutes of kissing him, I move my hands to the buttons of his shirt, and I undo them swiftly, pushing the thin material off his shoulders. Instantly, I begin to trail my hands over his torso, fingers roaming over the ridges of his muscles, heat radiating from him.

I break away after what could be minutes or hours – I lose track of time when he’s kissing me – and he instantly brings his hands to the hem of my top, helping me to pull it over my head, leaving me in my lacy black bralet. ‘Fuck,’ he curses under his breath, hands instantly cupping my breasts, and I laugh at the action, a small grin playing at his lips. His hands trail down my torso to undo my belt and the buttons of my jeans, and I push the tight material down my legs, stepping out of them when they pool at my feet as Jimin removes his own jeans. He lies down on the bed, looking at me in my black underwear set with a hungry smirk and loving eyes. How he manages both at the same time, I don’t know. I turn on the lamp, and turn off the big light, leaving us in a warm yellow glow. ‘Come here, princess,’ he says gently, and I smile at him, as I crawl up the bed to join him. He hooks his arms around my waist, pulling me onto him, and I giggle as I fall, my entire weight resting on him. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispers, my heart jumping as our eyes lock together before he turns us over, his body hovering over mine.

He instantly attaches his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking and biting and licking the skin as I wrap my arms around him, fingers in his hair. My head falls back against the pillow as he marks me up, gentle whimpers falling from my lips every few seconds. Once he’s deemed all the marks littering my neck and collarbones sufficient, he begins to kiss a trail down to the hem of my underwear. He looks up at me, to see if I’m okay with him continuing, and I nod with a gentle smile. He hooks his fingers into my underwear and pulls them down my legs, throwing them over his shoulder. ‘So wet. Always so wet for me, princess,’ he murmurs, eyeing my glistening heat, his warm breath fanning across my stomach. ‘Can I?’ he asks, warm brown eyes meeting mine, and I nod with a smile. ‘Words, princess, I need you to say it,’ he says, and I let out a gentle laugh before replying, ‘yes, you can, Jimin.’

He doesn’t hesitate to lick a bold stripe across my folds, and I let out a shaky breath, hands instantly tangling themselves into his soft dirty blond hair. He licks my core gently, easing me into it, whispering, ‘you taste so sweet, princess, so good.’ After a few moments, he begins to slowly push his finger in between my folds, and I can’t help but clench. ‘Princess, please stop clenching before you break my finger?’ he says softly, and I laugh, trying my best to relax. Once he’s pushed in up to his knuckle, he begins gently rocking his hand back and forth, giving me just enough friction that I’m not overwhelmed. Quiet moans fall from my lips every few seconds, and he adds another finger around a minute later, moving his fingers slightly faster. ‘Does that feel good, princess?’ he asks, before curling his fingers inside me, a broken moan escaping my mouth. ‘Mmm, so good, baby,’ I whimper, and he grins before ducking his head to suck on my clit, his other hand trailing up my body to play with my nipples. My toes curl against the sheets, my back arching up, as he slightly increases his pace, his thick luscious lips wrapping around my bundle of nerves, waves of pleasure flowing through me. ‘So good, Jimin, feels so good. Love your fingers, and your mouth,’ I whine, knowing he thrives on praise, and I feel him grin against me.

After a few more minutes of bliss, I feel my high rapidly approaching, but I pull Jimin away from my core, fingers still tangled in his hair. He looks up at me with concern in his eyes, my arousal all over his swollen lips, and my heart jumps at the sight of him. ‘It feels so good, baby, but can you just fuck my now?’ I say gently before biting my lip, and I watch as his eyes darken, and a smirk stretches his lips up at the corner. ‘Princess wants my cock, huh?’ he asks, and I nod with a soft smile as he removes his fingers from me before licking them clean, his eyes locked with mine the whole time, my stomach turning. He gets up from between my legs and pulls his boxers down, his hard length slapping up against his stomach, and I can’t tear my eyes away as he pushes his boxers all the way down his legs, hand tugging at his length as precum leaks from the swollen, red tip. ‘Condom?’ he asks with a grin, the word laden with so much history that I can’t help but laugh as I reach over to the nightstand and pull out a condom. He stands beside the bed and I rip the condom open, rolling it down onto his length as he hisses gently, his eyes on me.

He climbs onto the bed, moving to hover over me, his Chanel chain dangling down, the cold pendant resting against my neck, and I instantly wrap my legs around his waist pulling him closer. He balances on one forearm, his other hand reaching down to wrap around his cock and run his tip along my entrance teasingly. ‘Can I?’ he asks, looking down at me with dark, dilated eyes. ‘Yes, please,’ I breathe out, before tipping my head up and pressing my lips to his. He kisses me back, tongue delving into my mouth within moments, and I’m completely distracted by the feeling of his lips on mine, the taste of my own arousal dancing across my tongue. And then he starts to push into me, and I moan into his mouth as he sinks all the way in. He breaks apart, checking my face for any sign of discomfort, and my heart warms at the caring action. He waits a moment to let me adjust, his breath catching in his throat as my walls flutter around him frantically.

‘Am I okay to move?’ he asks, voice strained, and I know he’s trying his hardest to stay still. ‘Yeah, move, please,’ I whisper, and he doesn’t even wait until the last word has left my mouth before he pulls all the way out of me. He slams back in and I let out a moan of his name as he grunts, his balls slapping against me. ‘Fuck, feels so good, princess. I missed this pussy so much. You have no idea how many nights I jacked off to the thought of this tight, wet little cunt, and the beautiful girl it’s a part of,’ he whispers into my ear, and I whimper in reply, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal gushing from me, and it coats his abdomen and thighs. ‘So wet, princess, you’re gushing. Did you miss this cock?’ he asks between thrusts as I dig my nails into his strong back. ‘Missed your cock so much, Jimin, so much,’ I moan, and he groans at my words, his thrusts even harder and deeper. ‘Did you miss me, baby?’ he asks, voice small, and I nod, eyes locking with his as they tear up the overwhelming emotion I feel. ‘So much, baby. Missed you every day,’ I whisper as his thrusts slow down, longer and more drawn out, his cock dragging against my walls. ‘I missed you too, baby. Missed you more than I can say,’ he replies gently before he leans down to press a kiss to my lips.

His touches across my body are soft and gentle, his thrusts slow and deep, and he breathes out loving compliments and heartfelt words against my lips. He’s not fucking me. He’s making love to me.

I feel myself reaching my climax quicker than ever before, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands in his hair as our lips move against each other, our tongues clashing every few seconds. He swallows my moans, and when they become more frequent, he breaks away from me, opening his eyes. ‘Close, baby?’ he asks, and I nod, fighting to keep my eyes open at the feeling of his slow and deep thrusts, his body rolling against mine. ‘So close, Jimin, feels so good, baby,’ I breathe out, and the hand he isn’t resting on, reaches down to rub at my clit as he continues thrusting into me, his tip dragging against the soft spongy part inside me. The feeling is euphoric, pleasure rendering my mind blank of everything but Jimin, and my back arches off the bed, our chests pressing together. ‘Come on, baby, cum for me. You’re so close, wanna feel you clenching around my cock. Cum for me, baby,’ he whispers into my ear, and his words push me over the edge as I let out a loud moan of his name, hitting my mind-numbing climax.

He draws out my orgasm, continuing to rub at my clit and thrusting into me, and once I feel myself coming down, I pull his hand away before interlocking my fingers with his. ‘I love you,’ I whisper softly, and his eyes lock with mine as a huge smile breaks across his face. ‘I love you too, baby,’ he says gently, my walls still clenching around him. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks, knowing that I’m feeling overstimulated, but I shake my head. ‘No, want you to cum,’ I reply, and he curses at my words, slightly increasing the pace of his thrusting. I keep clenching around him due to the aftershocks of my orgasm, and I reach down with my free hand to play with his balls, the other hand still in Jimin’s tight grip. ‘Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum for me,’ I whisper before pressing my lips to his brefly, digging my heels into his back to hold him in place, deep inside me. He buries his head into my neck and lets out a strangled moan of my name against my lips as he cums into the condom, his hips stuttering against me as he tries to prolong his orgasm, my hand still playing with his balls as his whole body tenses up.

Once he’s come down from his high, his body relaxes and I remove my hand from his balls, my other hand still clasped in his and his head still nestled in the crook of my neck. I gently play with his hair, my body still tensing with aftershocks. ‘That was the best sex we’ve ever had,’ he murmurs against my skin, and I hum in agreement as he begins kissing my neck, leaving more marks. His hands run up and down my body, caressing the skin covered in perspiration as my fingers continue playing with his soft, fluffy locks. Every movement, every action, every featherlight touch of his is so full of love that I can feel it, feel how overwhelming and strong his love for me is. And I feel it for him too, my love in every movement, every action, every featherlight touch of mine. ‘I love you. I love you so much,’ he murmurs against my skin again and again, and I whisper it back again and again, neither of us tiring of hearing or saying it.

After a very long time, I know I should be responsible and go for a wee and wash off my makeup. When he feels me fidgeting beneath him, he slowly moves off me, slipping out of me, and I shudder at the feeling of being empty. He heads into the bathroom, coming back with a towel, water and a loving smile on his beautiful face, and he gently cleans me up. Once he’s done, I down the water and then get out of bed, walking into the bathroom with shaky legs. I refill the glass and take it to him, and he takes it from me with a smile as I grab a pair of pants from my drawer, and go back into the bathroom. I do a quick wee, wash my makeup off and then head back into my bedroom to see Jimin lying in clean underwear on the bed, phone in hand, all of our clothes folded up in a pile beside the bed. ‘Topless?’ he asks with a grin, putting his phone beside mine on the bedside table, and I let out a gentle laugh as I nod. ‘I’m not complaining, but won’t you be cold?’ he asks again, and my heart warms at how caring he is as I climb into the bed beside him. ‘Not with you keeping me warm,’ I reply with a grin, and he clutches his heart with a smirk. ‘That was smooth.’ ‘I learn from the best,’ I say, both of us lying down. He pulls me into his arms, holding me in a tight and comforting grip beneath the blankets, and my face and boobs are completely smushed up against his chest, our legs tangled together. ‘I love you, baby,’ he whispers, and I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. ‘I love you too, babe,’ I say softly, and I just know that he’s smiling as I finish, ‘always will.’

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zankivich · 5 years ago

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 1

This entire series is thanks to this gif set by @fallininyou

a/n: She’s a mouth full but I think this is going to be my next series post Neighbors (I promise that epilogue is still coming though!) I’m honestly so excited to explore this. I think it’s gonna be a Dom/sub relationship in my eyes, like one I would feel comfortable with which isn’t necessarily what everyone else would consider it. I will admit this isn’t going to get MAJOR kinky? But I want to use the relationship as a means to reflect what a sexual relationship can offer outside of everyday life? It’ll make more sense as you read. this is wildly different for me and I’m so so so nervous to put it out. Let me know what you think. Idk I’m scared. Please don’t hate it.

WARNINGS: Heavy smut. No condom (wrap it up kids)

It’s just a glance across the room. That’s usually all it takes. He’s standing next to his father and tugging his fingers through his curls in that way that is entirely unnecessarily but absolutely tantalizing. The pheromones this man could cause in the room. And that’s on a regular day. Add in the added bonus of a banquet where the son of the biggest music exec in the industry was officially joining his father’s company, and the result was a suit tailored to the very millimeter of his body. It was a bit ridiculous. But every woman, and frankly anyone with sight and a sex drive, couldn’t keep their eyes off of him. And he knew it, which is exactly why you weren’t interested. That didn’t mean you couldn’t look, right?

Mendes Industries was the end all be all of the music industry. It helped to have a rags to riches story of Mandy Mendes pulling himself up by the bootstraps and creating his company from scratch with a pristine ability to know a hit when he heard it. It was like the american dream personified, except they were Canadian. Looking at Manny now, no one would ever be able to guess the rags part. He practically glides across the floor with entitlement, smooshing investors and shaking hands with every old, rich white man in the building. And there are many.

Shawn Mendes was on track to follow directly in his father’s footsteps with everything from the asshole grin to the billion dollar inheritance waiting for him the second he turned twenty-five. In the meantime, he was just a rich daddy’s boy with an ego that surely had to be bigger than his dick. Word on the street was that was pretty big too.

“You know for someone who frowns so much on all these rich pampered white boys, you sure seem to have an eye for ‘em.” Tiana snickered over her champagne glass.

You let your eyes fall away from the Mendes boy as he fluffed his curls again and turned them to your obnoxious best friend turned assistant instead.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doin’ nothing but people watching. What else is there to do at these events? I haven’t got my white supremacist chuckle down yet, so I can’t go mingle unfortunuately.”

Tiana laughed at your quite accurate joke as you both took sips of your drinks.

At thirty years old you were the up and coming manager in the industry. At just twenty five you’d come in a number one on Forbe’s 30 under 30 list, and you had yet to slow down. In fact it seemed to be that most of the biggest artists in the industry fell under Mendes industries, except for the ones who fell under you. You had a feeling that was the only reason you were invited to this dumbass event to begin with. Mandy was the type to keep his enemies closer than his friends, and he was also the type to definitely view you as an enemy. Oh well.

Speak of the devil.

“Y/n! Darling.” Manny greeted hand coming naturally to your arm against your will.

His son was right behind him, and he was a lot more to deal with up close. Maroon printed button up with one too few buttons undone. The dark suit that he only drew attention to by sliding his hands purposely into his pockets. You noticed the way that his eyes ran over your body with heat. And the way that he seemed to pay attention to nothing in the world but the way your dress melded to your rounded thighs. You would have liked to think that you would be a lot less affected by that gaze, yet the way your inner thighs pulsed told a different story. When he licked his bottom lip, you leaned a little harder on the table.

“Manny,” You breathed smoothly. “You sure know how to plan a party.”

False. You had clocked fifteen changes you would’ve made the second you walked in the door.

“Well that certainly means a lot coming from you. I saw a couple of your artists next to mine on the TIME’s most influential. You’re coming up, aye?” He chuckled.

Your eyes widened. “Yes. You know the come up is hard Manny. I remember when we got Ariana on the cover of that issue that’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

It has its intended chilling effect on Manny. It seems to have the opposite effect on Shawn who’s now biting his lip at you like you’re something to eat. Men. So obvious.

“Oh no need to get yourself in a tizzy, y/n. We’re all friends here.” He grinned. “Have you met my son yet? It’s his celebration after all.”

You rolled your eyes but turned to him regardless. He still was refusing to mask those bedroom eyes of his, and stepped just close enough to be in your space as he reached his hand out for you to shake.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, yet.” He smirked.

It was a much different smirk than his father’s. Still arrogant, still totally full of himself. But, there’s something less sinister about it. He clearly hasn’t gotten around to being the bad guy yet, he’s just immulating his dad.

But, also what a cocky asshole to say “yet” as if it was inevitable that he would be getting any pleasure from you ever. Wild.

You took his hand and squeezed it gently. “You most certainly haven’t.”

Someone else comes to wisk Manny away leaving you there with Shawn who has neglected to let go of your hand yet.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He murmured, eyes just as dark at the suit on his back.

You hummed. “You old enough?”

He nodded. “I’m rich enough too.”

“Oooh child, I must be going. Bye now!” Tianna giggled disappearing into thin air.

You made a mental note to fire her tomorrow.

You peered over at where your assistant had practically flown into the crowd in her attempt to abandon you, before peering back at Shawn. He was still holding your hand, but he took it upon himself to lean against the table so that there was even less space between you.

“Now that we’re alone and you can stop pretending you weren’t eyeing me earlier, how about that drink?”

The fucking gall. Ooooo you wanted to hate him. And you did. A part of you definitely hated him and everything that he stood for. And when you thought about the years it took you selling t-shirts at the merch booths, being the assistant to every white guy who thought his shit didn’t stink, just inching for the opportunity to do the work you got to do now? When you thought about the fact that this man-child was just going to step directly above you without any hard work, without anything? You did hate him, at least everything that he stood for. The major error here was that your body had not quite gotten the memo that your head had settled on. And for whatever fucked up reason, he was getting to you. The worst part of it all was that he knew it.

“I’m still a little curious how this all is going to work. Do you have to go get Daddy’s credit card, or do they just have someone follow you around to make your purchases for you?” You grinned. “I’m a grown ass woman, not one of them girls you’re used to.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. He released your hand, and your fingers clenched uncontrollably at the loss. For a second you thought he might actually give up. Your stomach tightened.

Instead he leaned across the table and brushed the curtain of waist length braids you’d sported for the evening off your shoulder. His lips pressed just right against your ear, and his thumb sent absolute fire into your skin where he grazed your hip.

“Listen, whatever you think I’m capable of, or not capable of? I’d suggest you toss that all out the window. I’d be without a doubt the best you ever had. That’s not a dig towards the type of guys you’re pulling because I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s just a fact. A very fortunate fact I’d like to show you if you stop thinking about who my dad is for two seconds and just let me buy you the damn drink.”

It was without a doubt the wildest shit a man had ever said to you in your life. And you worked in the entertainment business. Your eyes fluttered shut, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. He had you. It was bad. Like breathy sigh, stumbled a little closer to him type bad. Shit. Where in the hell did this one come from?

“Fine. Buy me a damn drink.” You huffed.

“Good. Come with me.”

He led you with a hand on the small of your back, a very delicate and sensitive area on your body, to the bar. It did not go unnoticed that Shawn Mendes was talking to y/f/n/ y/l/n. But he seemed to feed off people staring at him, seemed to thrive under it even. He got you a vodka soda and a whiskey for himself. He’s still way too close to you, and you’ve yet to ask him to step back. The heat that radiates off his body is doing things you’d rather not think about. And you keep squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to ignore whatever he’s got going on in your underwear.

“You don’t like me.” He smirked into his drink. “Or my dad, I presume.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like what you stand for no. And with all due respect, your dad is an ass.”

He laughed and clapped that catcher’s mitt he called a hand against his thigh.

“No offense taken, we can definitely agree there. You don’t need to like me. I don’t need to like you. Not for what I’ve got planned.”

“And just what exactly is that?” You snorted.

“I wanna take you home with me tonight.”

“Bold!” You grinned. “You are so bold.”

He simply shrugged at you dark eyes raking in your every movement like you were his prey. Shit maybe you were.

“Maybe. I meant what I said earlier. It’d be good for you. Real good. But I have a feeling you already know that.”

It wasn’t exactly news, especially not in A&R. Shawn got around, but he never left a girl unsatisfied. His sex life was an underground running joke at this point. Didn’t matter if the woman was twenty, or apparently as old as fifty. He was selective enough that it hadn’t gotten out to the press, but the industry knew. You knew.

You bit your lip and stirred your glass anxiously to avoid those dark eyes of his.

“So I’m just supposed to let you take me home tonight, just cause you want to?”

He shook his head. “No. I only want you to come home with me if you want it. But, I think you do. And I know I can make it worth your while. What do you say y/n? Do you want it?”

You could feel your heart beat a little faster in your chest. Your thighs were getting a hell of a work out as you felt yourself practically pooling. This was ridiculous. This was unsustainable. There’s no way in hell you should go home with him. No way. You couldn’t!

A voice on the mic system broke you out of your daze as someone made the announcement for people to head toward their seats as the program was about to begin. Shawn rolled his eyes and reached into his suit jacket to produce a thin piece of plastic.

“I have to go get another position handed down to me. I’m staying in the penthouse tonight. You can either get yourself another drink on my tab and go home, or you can meet me there. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

He placed the key card on the bar top beside your drink and squeezed delicately at your hip as he passed. You weren’t able to breathe until he was no longer in front of you. Fuck.

The ridiculousness that was a thirty year old grown ass woman shaking in her thong over this….this man. Who was barely a man. What were the chances that he was actually going to show you something special? What were the chances that he had any idea what he was doing? It just felt unrealistic. And you still wanted to hate him.

Then Manny pulls him on stage and he leans against the podium. His hands are so large that the mic gets eaten up every time he reaches for it. He tugs at his curls again and you squirm against the bar before knocking back the rest of your vodka soda. It’s even worse because he’s charming. He’s got that dumbass smile and he gets the crowd laughing. It’s charisma and spunk and everything you wish you didn’t want.

You get another vodka soda and watch him accept all the love and adoration that the crowd is throwing at him. The final straw comes when he makes eye contact with you. All of the heat comes roaring back immediately. His gaze is tense and unwavering. He’s got you.

You reach for the key card and stomp off in the direction of the elevators before your liquid courage can diminish. When you peer back over your shoulder you catch him walking through the crowd ignoring hand shake after handshake to get to you. It’s not just you. Apparently you have him too.

***

The penthouse suite is bigger than your first apartment. There’s a full kitchen, mulitiple bedrooms, and a fucking jaccuzi that you’re a little curious about. None of that matters the second he steps in the room though. His suit jacket is already off and lands on one of the many expensive couches. His sleeves are rolled and he’s got those damn hands in his pockets again as he looks you over. You wish you didn’t practically keen under his gaze, but there’s no denying how hot this is.

“Hmmm” He hummed taking you in. “You wanna pick a bed? Or we can get creative if you’d like.”

It was so fucking cocky! Ugh.

“How is it that every time you speak I both want to punch you and sleep with you?” You groaned.

He smiled. “It’s my speciality. Here, come here?”

“What?”

“Just come here.”

He reached his hand out and you sighed and took it. You know? Like an idiot.

He spun you into his arms and ran his fingers over your hips, nose skimming along yours. You felt your eyes widen as he leaned in to kiss you. A new problem arose. Boy. Could. Kiss.

It’s gentle at first. His lips are soft but sure of themselves as they wrap sweetly around yours. It’s inquisitive though. He’s trying to figure out what you like, what you want. So, when he captures your bottom lip between both of his and you groan, he keeps doing it. And when he nips playfully at you and your fingers tighten against his shirt, he seems to know exactly what it is you need. And he’s certainly prepared to give it to you.

He licks inside of your mouth and his fingers grip at your neck as he ropes you in. It’s breathtaking. Like honestly so. It’s hard to breathe when he’s biting and licking and making you moan. It’s even harder to focus on breathing when you feel like he’s consuming you. His hands travel back down to your waist and then lower and lower until he’s lifting you clean off the floor.

“Shawn!” You gasp, hips tightening considerably as you hide your face in his neck.

“I’m gonna guess you’re good with me picking a room?”

He takes you to the master bedroom where your body nestles perfectly into the sheets. Your ass bounces a little bit and he gives you a look that practically has your clothes coming off alone. The verbal command is merely an added bonus.

“Take your clothes off.” He murmured voice authoritative and rough.

You do as he asks, not wanting to look away from him for even a moment. He’s got one hand on his groin and another on your calf and the second your dress is off he makes a sound that makes your nipples harden.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

He reaches for your face with those big, warm hands as he stares down at you like you’re already his. You melt beneath that gaze. When your fingers reach for the expensive belt on his expensive slacks, his fingers turned to steel around your wrists.

“Not now. Lie back.”

He taps at your leg and watches as you shuffle back on the bed, crawling in after you. His chest nestles between your legs and you bite your lip as he kisses your inner thigh.

“You wet for me yet?”

God his voice was so husky and gravely, you could practically feel it. His lips map out whole stories along your thighs. You arch your back as his thumbs push just below your ass. It’s not enough to actually touch you, he has to destroy you first.

“These fucking thighs.” He sighed inching closer to skin his nose against your heat. “Bet this pussy tastes good too.”

He doesn’t even have the decency to move your thong out the way, has to lave and soak it through with his tongue instead. The piece of fabric nestles just perfectly against your clit and he licks it back and forth. You’re so wet already it’s obscene. You tug a little desperately at his palms on your hips as he suckles at your outer lips. It’s too much already. How the fuck is it that good?

“Shit. Oh shit.” You whine.

He leans up on his knees and pushes his face closer chasing you every inch you try to wiggle away. His eyes get darker and pulls back to sink his teeth into your thigh. You let out the most embarrassing sound, something between a sob and a groan. The pain gave way to pleasure and traced the skin with his tongue immediately after.

“Stop that. Let me make you cum, or you won’t get to cum the rest of the night.”

He gets more and more direct with every passing moment, and each time he makes a demand, your hips only pulse a little more. It’s so good. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks and it drives you up the wall. Your moans pours out into the air and your fingers tighten into the sheets. He’s sucking sucking you hard and fast, his tongue flicking over and under and around that small bud like he’d already memorized every nerve ending. You find heaven against his mouth and ride the wave while he sucks you for every single drop you have.

“Oh my god. What the hell was that?”

You peer down between your legs and there his dumb fucking face is nestled against your thigh. He looks soft for just a moment, curls tickling your stomach.

“Yea. Feels good, aye?” He chuckled. “It gets better.”

He slides from between your legs and reaches for his belt. The whole time his eyes burn into you making your toes curls in the expensive ass sheets.

“Flip over. Ass up.”

You sighed softly letting your legs plop down on the bed.

“Give me a second.”

His toned arms flexed as he worked on the buttons to his pants, teeth sinking dangerously into his lip.

“Don’t make me have to do it for you, honey.”

You’d never done quite well with orders. Your job was always to mitigate people who thought they could overpower you, who thought they were smarter than you. It had always been about fighting for every inch that you had, and never letting go. In this moment with him, in this penthouse that cost more than your rent, you feel…oddly safe with him. Like, giving up a little bit of your power wasn’t going to be used against you. Anything that you let up, or let go of, was only going to result in your pleasure. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to make you feel good. You just had to let him do it.

Your shoulders relax as you flip over onto your stomach and listen to the sound of his pants hitting the floor. His large palms ease over your shoulders and down your back as he settles behind you. It already feels good just to have him touching you. And then the second he picks up the pace and spreads your thighs, your heart rate picks up again. Just let go. Let him have this.

“Do I need to use a condom?” He hummed voice puffing against your neck.

You wiggled impatiently. “I’ve got an IUD. Are you clean?”

“Yea. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His hands come to your hips pushing down at the arch in your back to make it more prominent. You feel him against your heat and it’s a bit intimidating at first. . Mostly because the rumors of whether or not he’s packing is literally being confirmed against your vulva. And also because he’s rubbing his head against your clit like it’s your own personal sex toy, and you are…a mess. He hadn’t even put it in.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” He sighed rubbing a little firmer against you. “Talked all that shit downstairs but this pussy was made for me, aye? Tell me you need it.”

All your inhibitions are gone. Sex is a hell of a thing. Makes the wildest shit okay in the right setting, and you’ve completely fallen into his spell for the night.

You whined against the sheets pressing yourself against him.

“Shawn, please.” You whimpered. “Need it.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna give it to you.”

He pushes in, filling you up inch by inch and your muscles spasm around him as he stretches you perfectly. Your eyes close and your lips open to let his name come out of your mouth in a voice that is just as filthy as the way his cock feels inside of you. It’s too much already. You don’t see how the hell you’re gonna make it out of this in one piece. You quickly learn that was never his intention in the first place.

His hips set a brutal rhythm against the back of your thighs, the noise in the air lewd and filthy. His fingers dig so deep into your hips you might have felt yourself bruise if you weren’t so concerned with how good he feels inside you. It’s instantly too much. And he’s not letting you up, not letting you breathe. He flips you over without even dislodging himself and the feel of it is incredible. He gets close enough that you’re pressed together chest to chest and it feels like your skin is on fire. God, it’s too much.

Eventually the sounds you’re making start to get embarrassing and you have no choice but to start sucking at the skin of his collarbones and chest just to have a chance at avoiding combustion. That’s where you discover the nipple thing. Your thighs bracket his hips and your tongue traces his right nipple and the results are exquisite.

“Shit” He whined. “Don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You let your teeth graze the flesh as it pearled in the air and he pushed his hips harder against yours.

“Fuck! You trying to make me cum?”

His voice was more raw, less perfect chiseled sultriness and more fucked out bliss. It turned you on more than ever.

“What if I am?” You whispered peering up at him.

You bit your lip and clenched slightly around him endlessly enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw twitched in response.

“You’re so fucking bad.” He grunted and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. “Gonna have to gag this pretty mouth of yours sometime.”

You giggled softly letting your teeth nip at his thumb.

“Wanna see you try.”

“God, where the hell did you come from?” He whispered.

“I’m a Black woman. I come from the sun and the earth and everything God herself made. Duh. Now fuck me like you mean it, white boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He leans up on his knees and takes that hold on your hips again. There’s sweat on his brow and he’s biting his lip and he genuinely gives you all that he’s got. He has the audacity to slow down, but you wouldn’t even know it the way he’s dragging his hips. In a dick crazed brain you’d say his cock was meant for you. His hips swirl against yours and he fills you over and over again making sure to stop just long enough on every lunge to get your moans to keep coming out into the stale air.

You reach for his thighs with your fingers and push back against him with your hips. He cries out for you again and it’s like an adrenaline kick. His grunts and moans are like food for your soul, and there’s no stopping either of you. His thrusts get more rugged, less precise, but more piercing, and your moans get higher. It feels so fucking good. You never want him to stop.

“Please! Please!”

“Fuck! Where do you want it, baby girl? Tell me where you want it.”

“In me.” You sigh breathlessly. “Want it in me.”

His fingers digs into your ass and he pulls you into him raggedly over and over and over until he’s pumping you full, warm and overflowing. You collapse there in one massive, tangled heap as you both try to regulate your breathing. He’s heavy as shit, but somehow it manages to feel good. You feel like you might float away if he weren’t there to hold you down. It’s as your looking up at the cieling, and all you can smell is sweat and sex and him, that you realize just how fucked for him you are already. And how bad this was going to be for you. Shit.

TBC

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