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bunnylovesani · 5 months

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A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #darth vader #padme amidala #sw prequels

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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I was asked awhile back to make my version of a Yandere Gameshow Host so here is my take on it. This is set in a dystopian world that relies on a game show to set people up together with their ‘perfect match.’

Yandere Short Stories: Meet Your Match

Yandere Black Gameshow Host x Afab Reader

Meet Your Match was an incredibly popular game show in this dystopian world. One where singles would rush to be a part of since the host perfectly matched each individual to their ‘ideal’ match. People sung Andre Kantz’s praises ever. Single. Time. They called the man Cupid for a reason… and not just because of his whimsical style and appearance.

Andre had skills in match making that were almost inhuman. He’s never failed a single time to match a pair up. Andre always had a hundred percent success rate.

To enter this show, one would have to include a detailed description of themselves and send it to the host in hopes to be picked to be on it. It sometimes took months, even a year to get on.

So why was (your name) invited to join this show when she had never sent in a description of her own? (Your name)’s never had much interest in romance since she didn’t grow up surrounded by love so why has love come knocking on her door? Was this perhaps fate?

(Your name) nervously shifted in her chair whilst the contestants all happily chittered amongst themselves. Why did she feel so anxious when this should be a happy moment for her?

“Hello and welcome to Meet Your Match! I’m your host Andre Kantz or Cupid!” The audience cheers when the camera moves towards the charismatic host. His white teeth shined brightly under fluorescent stage light as his cinnamon eyes scanned the crowd’s faces until they stopped on the figure of a familiar young woman. His heart fluttered a bit when they made eye contact but he quickly went back to work. Yet his cinnamon eyes flitted over to (your name) with joy. They have finally been reunited after all these years! Andre was so happy she came! He knew it was destiny.

The ebony man’s crystals in his locs clanked together when he moved his head to scan the audience. He clapped his hands to catch everyone’s utmost attention.

“Today I have matched all of you in pairs to finally Meet Your Match and there is a grand reveal at the end of this very special show!” The audience cheered but Andre was too focused on (your name). His eyes never left hers despite the way the audience went wild. “Reach under your seat to pull out the envelopes under your chair! If the color matches someone else here, then that’s your match!”

(Your name) reached under her chair and was surprised at the pink envelope under her cushioned chair. Pink… why was hers pink?

“Oh! It seems someone had gotten a pink envelope!” Andre made his way off the stage to stand in front of (your name).

When he finally stood before her, she could finally get a better look at him. His black locs had rose quartz wrapped into them with gold wiring which made him even more mystical. His infectious smile was even brighter now that he was in close proximity. Andre was a handsome man, there was no denying it. And… was that incense she could smell?

Andre’s scent of incense and patchouli infiltrated her senses. There was something almost magical about this man… and eerily familiar. (Your name) just couldn’t put a finger on what was so familiar about him…

Andre bent down to be at her height as he gave her a bright smile. “You’re a very special contestant… you’ll have to come onstage for your match.”

(Your name) followed Andre upstage as he match made the singles that were in crowd. The people began to cheer and holler in excitement.

Andre lead her behind the stage with haste and into his dressing room.

(Your name) froze when Andre reached into his vanity’s drawer and pulled out a matching blush pink envelope. The man trembled so much, she swore he was about to explode in tears.

“I’m so happy… I’m so happy for you finally have my match.” Andre then opened his envelope to show (your name) a list of her interests and hobbies. How did he get those?! How did he know so much about her? “Ever since grade school, I had always admired you from a distance. You were always so calm and cool while I was a people pleaser but the more I saw of you, the more I realized we have so much in common! We’re both spiritual and we like the same foods! Your favorite show is mine as well! We’re perfect together!”

Wait… Andre Kantz. How could she not have realized this all beforehand… that Andre was her old stalker from school?! The one who scared her away from romance for over a decade?!

(Your name) slowly began to back up towards the door but Andre slammed it shut with his ebony hand. His breathing ragged and his eye a bit crazed.

“Can’t you see this is fate? We’re meant to be!” Andre leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Andre reached in his pocket to pull out a small remote that turned on a camera behind him. “So what do you say to being my match? Yes or… yes?”

(Your name) gulped when she stared into the blinking red light that broadcasted her kabedon worldwide. Say no for her own peace of mind or say no and be dead socially for the rest of her years?

Andre smiled when she hugged him and buried her face into his chest. He was so happy to finally have her in his arms… she was finally caught in the perfect trap.

“See, (your name)?” Andre pulled her body close to his, his fingers affectionately ran through her scalp. “You’ve finally met your match.”

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kaeyachi · 10 days

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some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeyachi back at it again with the kaeya talk because they cant be stopped

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luminoustarlight · 5 months

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As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Three

Lines are beginning to blur between you and Anakin.

◂ chapter two ▸ chapter four

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.2k | read on ao3

warnings: alcohol, age-gaps, body image insecurities (anakin), sexual fantasies/content, swearing, a little bit of mean anakin

“Tell me everything! Is he everything you thought he’d be? Totally dreamy? All stoic and boss-like? Oh, what does he smell like? Expensive?”

Your best friend has barely taken off her shoes before bombarding you with questions about your first day working for Anakin Skywalker. You give her a welcoming hug before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. “Come on, I’ve already opened a bottle of wine.”

Two empty glasses stand next to a middle-shelf Pinot Gris on your coffee table. Sabine takes it upon herself to pour the wine and pulls the granny square blanket from the back of your couch over her lap. She looks like she’s settling in for a bedtime story.

“Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

You situate yourself on the opposite end of the couch and slip your legs under the blanket. You take a small sip of wine before attempting to answer any of Sabine’s questions. Your first day at Skywalker Enterprises went by in a blur. Meeting your boss was not at all how you imagined it would go. It was all so clumsy. Anakin seemed more like an embarrassed school boy than the confident CEO you were expecting. He looked like he saw a ghost when he saw you sitting behind your desk. And then, in the car on the way to his house, he addressed your butt.

“Let me know if your butt gets too toasty,” he said. It was so incredibly adorable because you could tell he let a little bit of his guard down when he said it. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. Because no sensible boss should talk about his assistant’s butt. Especially not when you’ve only just met each other. You found it endearing.

But then, after the initial awkwardness faded and you continued talking to each other throughout the day, there was a sense of familiarity about him. The structure of his sentences when he spoke reminded you of someone. You’re just not sure who.

“He’s not really what I thought he’d be like.”

“How so?” Sabine asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, unable to explain the stirring of feelings and emotions in your chest. “He’s… he was sort of awkward when we first met. Like, stuttering and fumbling over his words. Almost as if I made him nervous.”

Sabine nods slowly with her eyes narrowed. “Go on…”

“Well, that’s crazy, right? The fact that I could’ve made him nervous?”

“Not necessarily. Look at you. You didn’t have a successful OnlyFans page for nothing.”

“Yeah, but he’s in his forties,” you emphasize. You remind yourself of his age nearly every minute to remember how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your boss. Applying for the job was such a bad idea. What made you think you wouldn’t be attracted to him when you saw him in person? Your cheeks get hot as you think about him rounding the car to open your door once you got back to the office after dropping off his son’s pants at school. It was just a common courtesy, not a sign of interest. But damn, was it nice to be on the reciprocating end of something gentlemanly.

“And he’s a dad! I shouldn’t be making dads nervous,” you add. “I mean, I saw a picture of his wife at his house. She was stunning. Stunning, Sabine. High cheekbones, a nice straight nose, a gorgeous smile…”

“Wait, he’s married?!” Sabine sets down her glass.

“Widowed.”

“Oh,” Sabine says sadly. Then her eyebrows perk up. “Oh.”

“Don’t,” you hold up your finger. “Don’t give me that look. He’s my boss.”

“But you like him,” Sabine sings. “And from what it sounds like, he likes you too.”

You cannot let Sabine put the idea of Anakin Skywalker, engineering millionaire, having a measly little crush on you. Because it’s absolutely absurd. He’s him and you’re… you’re just a girl who was uploading videos of herself masturbating for money just last week. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work. It’s empowered you in so many ways, but it was time to find something a bit more steady and reliable. And less physically taxing, to be perfectly honest.

“Sabine, be serious. I-” your phone pings with a distinct tone that makes you pause.

New Message from Skyguy81

“Oh, my God,” you say.

“What?” Sabine asks.

“It’s Sky,” you answer her while opening the message.

Sabine eagerly crawls on top of you to peer at your screen. “Sky as in Rich Guy Sky? Did you upload a new video or something? What did he say?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I haven’t uploaded anything since last Thursday. Get off of me so I can read his message.”

Sabine retreats to her side of the couch as you begin reading to her.

“I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.” Your tongue feels like sandpaper and your heart is in the bottom of your throat.

“Oh, shit!” Sabine exclaims. “You’ve got this boy whipped! Honestly, you should just keep making videos for him. He was your best tipper, anyway.”

“He’s never… he’s never messaged me out of the blue before.” You chug down the last of your wine, thinking you may need some liquid courage for whatever conversation is about to unfold between you and Sky.

“He wants you,” Sabine says simply. “Make it happen.”

“I can’t just meet up with someone from OnlyFans. It’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen.”

Sabine rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so cynical.”

“I’m not being cynical, I’m being logical,” you counter. You’d be foolish to risk your life by meeting up with Skyguy81. No matter how nice and genuine he seems over private messages. No matter how much money he has tipped you. There is no guarantee he’s not absolutely creepy and going to kidnap you.

Okay, so maybe you watch too much true crime. That’s why you have to balance it out with The Great British Bake Off.

“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” Sabine finishes her wine, “you never know. He could be the love of your life.”

You’re quiet as you contemplate the love of your life. Sabine is the romantic. You’re the realist. You have a hard time believing there’s one person in the world who you’re destined to be with. How do you explain Anakin losing his wife? Was she the love of his life? Is he not supposed to move on and potentially find happiness with someone else? None of it makes sense to you and it’s quite possibly because you’ve never been in love.

And the image of the person who you might like the opportunity to love is entirely unavailable.

It’s times like tonight when Anakin wishes he didn’t raise such inquisitive, curious children. Leia is simply chock-full of questions about her dad’s new assistant. When do they get to meet her? Soon. Is she old like Auntie Dorothy? No. Does she like vintage Disney movies? (Anything before 2010 is “vintage” to Leia). I don’t know.

Luke, on the other hand, was very disappointed to learn that you were in the car while his dad dropped off a new pair of pants. “You made her wait in the car like a dog?”

Anakin snorts. “I wouldn’t quite say like a dog, Luke. I was gone for less than five minutes.”

“Did you at least roll down the window? So she could have fresh air?” Leia joins in on the comical idea of their dad leaving his assistant in his car like a pet.

“That’s enough out of you two,” Anakin says through a grin. These 9 year olds, man. What is he going to do with them?

Luke and Leia nod, going back to stabbing their dumplings with their chopsticks.

“I have one last question.” Leia watches her dumpling precariously dangle on the edge of her chopstick.

“What is that, princess?” Anakin asks.

“Is she pretty?”

Anakin’s pulse is going to burst. It’s a simple question- one that always seems to be on the tip of Leia’s tongue. She wants a woman figure in her life. Soon, she’ll be at the age that is easier to navigate with a maternal presence. Anakin is really not equipped to talk her through menstrual cycles.

But it’s the nature of who his new assistant is that makes him feel so exposed. He can’t very well tell his children you’re the most beautiful woman he’s seen since his wife. And he definitely can’t tell them that you’ve been in his life not since this morning, but since three years ago when he downloaded OnlyFans.

Anakin cleans the corners of his mouth with his napkin while he formulates an appropriate response. He’s kept his answers short and simple because if he thinks about you for too long, your figure seeps into his vision, your voice burns in his ears, and he’s unable to focus.

He feels like such a sleaze for getting hard just by thinking about you. You are so much more than a sexual object. And trust him, he can’t wait to learn about all that makes you you. But morals be damned. He wants you desperately.

“Yes, Leia. She’s quite pretty,” Anakin finally answers.

Leia can’t help but dance excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I could’ve met her today,” Luke mumbles. “If Dad hadn’t locked her up in the car.”

Anakin is laughing now. “I have a feeling you are going to be bringing this up for a while.”

After dinner, the kids clear the dishes and load what they can into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Anakin does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.

Now being 10 pm, it’s been 3 hours since Anakin— or rather, Skyguy81— sent you that message.

And you still haven’t replied. But you read it.

And the fact that you’ve read the message but decided not to reply makes Anakin feel so incredibly foolish. What was he thinking? What was he expecting from you? More meaningless flirting?

Except now it’s not meaningless for him. He’s not sure if it was ever meaningless. But now that he knows who the woman behind HoneySuckle is, it’s completely different. You have a name— which he had to look up in employment records because he’s convinced he actually blacked out when you introduced yourself. You have passions and interests, favorite snacks, and a go-to karaoke song. He wants to know it all.

And even though he’s going to see you tomorrow, he couldn’t resist the urge to message you on OnlyFans. But since you’ve opted not to reply to him, he’s now wallowing like a teenage boy.

Ridiculous. He’s better than this, goddamnit!

Finally deciding to stop staring at his phone, Anakin strips down to take a shower. It’s hard for him not to feel disappointed when he looks at himself in the mirror. Arguably, he’s still in great shape. He lifts weights at the gym at least twice a week, sometimes three if he has the time. He doesn’t have a beer belly, which he considers an accomplishment at his age. But he does have some extra fat around his love handles. He has sun spots on his shoulders from the countless pool days when the twins were younger. And then there are the undeniable lines around his eyes, which are incredibly prominent when he smiles.

Anakin has never felt particularly insecure about his image before. He’s accepted that his body is not the same 20 year old body it once was. But there’s a new nagging insecurity in the back of his mind.

Is it good enough for you?

Anakin turns on the water in the shower, needing to wash away all delusions of you and him ever getting together. As soon as he steps one foot on the tile, his phone buzzes. He grabs his phone off of the counter and his heart rate immediately ticks up.

Hi Sky, I’m sorry for the delay. I had a friend over. Here’s a special little something for you ;)

Attached is a picture of you on your bed, sitting on your heels with the thin straps of your panties pulled over your hips. You’re lifting an oversized t-shirt above your breasts, which also expertly hides your face. Right. Because you don’t know that he knows who you are.

Still, the picture was worth the wait. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cock is already standing upright, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. He focuses on your hard nipples, picturing himself enclosing his mouth around one of your mounds. He’s rolling his tongue over your bud while massaging your other breast. Your hands are in his hair and you’re anything but silent. You’re moaning his name, begging for more, whining for him to put his cock inside of you.

Anakin is too preoccupied to even reply to you. He gets himself under the steady stream of hot water and grabs the base of his length. Now he’s picturing you on top of him, tits bouncing in his face while you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Mmm, yes! Anakin, please. Feels so good.”

Your hands are pressed against his strong chest for support. He loves you like this— in control but still pathetically needy for his dick. “How much do you love it?” he asks. “Tell me how much you love this cock inside of you.”

You throw your head back when he slaps both of your ass cheeks. He grabs onto your flesh firmly and your cunt clamps around him while you proclaim it to be the best feeling in the world. “I love it so much, Ani. Nobody's cock feels as good as yours.”

“Damn right,” Anakin grits. He holds your chin with a strong hand, forcing you to look at him. “This pussy is mine. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” you moan as Anakin bucks his hips up, hitting deep inside of you. “Only yours.”

“Yes, sir,” huh? That’s a new kink unlocked. Anakin presses a palm on the shower wall to steady himself as he cums. It’s anything from pretty. It happens suddenly and quickly, thanks to the vivid images he was creating in his mind. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. But your name is rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. As if it’s always been in the recesses of his mind, just waiting to be said intimately and passionately.

He tries to list off the hundreds of reasons why he should never utter your name in a less than professional manner while shampooing his hair.

You’re his assistant.

You’re significantly younger than him.

The power imbalance (see 1 and 2).

That’s all he can come up with for now and it’s enough. Nothing good will come out of pining for you and fantasizing about you. It still doesn’t stop him from messaging you back after he gets out of the shower and settles in bed.

Now I feel guilty for not responding sooner. Thank you for the spectacular photo. It is unfortunate that I had to take matters into my own, ahem, hands. I would have much preferred to have your help.

You flatter me, Sky. Do I really get you that worked up?

Impossibly so.

When you said you thought about me at work… What exactly did you mean?

To be perfectly blunt, you were bent over a desk with your skirt pushed over your ass. I was fucking you well and hard, with my name being the only thing falling from your pretty lips.

Anakin lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why does he keep putting himself in situations that result in an erection? He just needs to have a good fuck. Get it out of his system. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But under no circumstances will it be with you.

I think I’d like that very much.

Goddamnit. Anakin needs to stop while he’s ahead. While he’s not succumbing to jerking off for a second time tonight. This was a disastrous idea. Because now when he sees you at work tomorrow, he’s going to think about how you would like for him to fuck you over your desk. Except you don’t actually know that it’s him who wants to fuck you over your desk.

Maybe in another life.

Anakin leaves it at that. He puts his phone on do not disturb and attempts to get some reading in before going to sleep. He also prays for G-rated dreams.

The morning fog of late November in Northern California is still hanging in the air when you get to work at 8 am. Anakin won’t be in until he drops off Luke and Leia which means he should arrive around the same time he did yesterday. It gives you an hour to go through voicemails, reply to emails, and brew a pot of coffee in the breakroom.

Ben Kenobi arrives shortly after you, sharply dressed in dark blue slacks, caramel leather Oxfords, and a white collared shirt with small polka dots that match the color of his pants.

“Good morning, Mr. Kenobi,” you greet.

“Please, call me Ben. No need for formalities around here,” Ben replies. “You’ll soon see we operate very much like a family. There will be shouting and likely some name calling, but it’s all in the name of love for engineering and innovation.”

“Got it,” you nod. “It’s just that Dorothy always called Mr. Skywalker by, well, Mr. Skywalker. And yesterday he didn’t tell me to call him otherwise.”

Ben strokes his nicely groomed beard. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you can continue to address him as such until he tells you to call him Anakin. Which I’m sure he’ll do this morning when he gets in. Have you brewed the coffee yet?”

“Not yet.” you stand. “I wanted to check messages first, but coffee is next on the list.”

“Excellent.” Ben follows you into the breakroom. “How are you enjoying your time here?”

“Well, it’s only been a day,” you remind him with a light lilt to your voice. “But it’s been good! Everyone I’ve met is super friendly.”

Ben leans back against the counter, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. “And you and Anakin? You two getting along? He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?”

You nearly spill the coffee grounds as you bring the spoon up from the container to the machine. “No!” you say a little too loudly. “I mean, no. He’s been very nice. Quiet, but nice.”

“Anakin? Quiet?” Ben almost laughs. “I’ve never heard that word used to describe Anakin before.”

“Oh.” you continue scooping grounds into the machine. How many spoonfuls are you supposed to put in? You’ve lost count. Maybe two more for good measure. You’d rather make the coffee too strong than too weak. Nothing is worse than weak coffee. “Maybe I caught him on an off day. He did seem a little weird when he brought me to his house. And then I sort of told him off in the car…”

This gets Ben away from the counter and walking over to you. “You did what?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him off per se. I just asked him to give me a chance. It seemed like he’d already made a decision about me and we’d only known each other for a couple of hours.”

“Good for you,” Ben replies. “Anakin is headstrong but he can be reasoned with. If the reason is worth being reasoned over.”

“Am I?” you ask. “Worth being reasoned over?”

Ben appears to give you a once over and then nods once. “Yes, I’d say so.”

“Thanks…” you say with uncertainty. Ben takes himself and his briefcase to his office, which is the next door over from Anakin’s. He leaves you alone in the breakroom with a dozen questions. Was Ben assessing your appearance? Surely not for himself. He’s insanely in love with his wife— the mayor. Then who for? Anakin? No. No way.

The coffee has begun to brew— the nutty notes of Philz Philtered Soul bringing you back to your college days. There’s one in walking distance from campus and you and Sabine spent every finals week there chugging back Mint Mojitos and Mocha Tesoras.

Those days were not that long ago for you. For Anakin, on the other hand…

You shake your head, effectively shaking thoughts of Anakin taking any interest in you away. And why would he have an interest in you? He’s bound to have a list of more age-appropriate women he can bring home to his children.

Stop thinking about it.

But it’s so damn hard not to. A forbidden office romance with your boss who’s 20 years your senior? Yeah, it’s cliché and sort of sounds like the plot to a porno but it’s sort of fun, too. As long as you keep yourself in check, what’s the harm in pretending like he’s secretly in love with you and wants to take you home?

When Anakin gets into the office, he doesn’t even greet you before saying, “Call Rose. Tell her to come as soon as possible.”

So much for him being nice yesterday. Now he won’t even look at you. “Who’s Rose? What- what is the appointment for?”

“You don’t need to know what it’s for,” Anakin snaps. “Just find Rose in your little phone book, call her, and tell her I need to see her immediately.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you say while thumbing through the contacts Dorothy left behind for you. Without another word, Anakin goes into his office and slams the door.

What the hell was that about? That was once again another awkward morning of Anakin slamming his office door after talking to you. You thought you left work on good terms yesterday. What changed?

Rose Montgomery arrives 47 minutes after you call her. You hear her Louboutins clicking on the floor before you see her. Your eyes trail up from her long legs to her slim waist and perky boobs until you reach her face. Good Lord. She is strikingly beautiful. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. As she walks closer to your desk, you are drawn to her perfectly round green eyes. She’s like the real-deal Jolene from Dolly Parton’s hit song. Seriously, did she grow up being called Jolene solely based on her looks?

“Aw, look at you,” Rose smiles down at you. “You must be the new Dorothy.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.”

Uh… What the hell are you supposed to say to that? “I’ll let Mr. Skywalker know you’re here.”

“No need,” Rose informs. “I’ll let myself in.” She begins to walk away with an extra sway to her hips. You want to hate her but she’s got such an air of confidence that you actually want to be a little more like her.

“Oh, um, actually I’m not sure about that,” you come out from behind your desk. “He seems to be in a mood so I don’t want you barging in his office to make it worse.”

Rose turns on her heels and purses her lips. “Actually, sweetheart, I’ve known him longer than you and this isn’t my first ‘appointment’ with him. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go make his mood a little better.”

Okay. Now you hate her. With that, Rose leaves you standing outside of Anakin’s office with a dumbfounded look on your face. Is that… is she… a booty call?

All of the insinuations are there; from the air quotes around “appointment” to the way she said she’ll make Anakin’s mood better. Coupled with her outstanding looks, you’ve decided that Rose Montgomery is a friend with benefits of Anakin Skywalker. You trudge back to your desk and do your absolute best not to think about what’s happening behind your boss’s door.

At the sound of his door opening, Anakin quickly closes his computer tab and turns off the monitor. He pulls his headphones off of his head and puts them in the drawer.

Rose is none the wiser as she drops her Birkin bag on the table beside the chaise. “Ugh, who is that child you have sitting behind Dorothy’s desk?”

“My new assistant,” Anakin answers through a dry throat. Rose sits herself on his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She begins playing with the ends of his curls, which normally, he would enjoy. But he really just wants to get this over with. He draws down the zipper of her black dress while she kisses along his jaw.

“She seems incompetent,” Rose says between kisses. “What is she? Like, 15?”

Anakin twirls Rose’s hair around his fist and yanks her face away from his. This makes her gasp with pleasure, and despite his annoyance, he loves the reaction he gets from her. “I didn’t fucking ask you here for your opinion on her. Do not talk about her again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Rose breathes. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees.”

When Rose leaves Anakin’s office, you can absolutely tell she and Anakin had sex. Did she even bother looking in the mirror or her phone camera before coming out? She avoids looking in your direction at all costs and knowing how awkward those walks of shame can be after a one night stand, you decide not to watch her walk to the elevator.

You busy yourself in a filing cabinet until you hear Anakin’s door open again. You tell yourself not to look up because if you look up at him you might actually burst into tears. Which makes absolutely no sense to you but you feel that stinging in your nose and you’re trying to think of the time you got Panini because at least those were happy tears.

Anakin says your name.

Damnit. Get it together. You take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. At least he doesn’t look like he just had sex. His hair is combed back the same way it was when he walked in and his clothes are wrinkle free. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?”

“Would you like to go get lunch?”

It’s only 10:45 but of course, he’d be hungry after having sex. “Oh, sure. What can I get you?”

“I meant me.”

You furrow your brows together. “Sorry?”

“I mean us. You and me, together. Fuck,” Anakin mumbles that last part. It’s like he loses the part of his brain that forms proper sentences when he looks at you. Think back to the car, Anakin. Things weren’t so bad in the car. Wait, yes they were. He told you to tell him if your butt got too toasty.

You can’t help but smile as you start to see the Anakin who let his guard down in the car. He’s nothing like the Anakin who walked into the office this morning. “You want me to get lunch with you?”

“Yes. If you would like.”

You grab your thrifted black leather bag and your coat off of the back of your chair. “I think I’d like that very much.”

I think I’d like that very much.

That is the second time you’ve said that to Anakin.

On the drive to the farm to table restaurant he suggested, he thinks about telling you the truth. That he’s Skyguy81 and you’ve been messaging each other for three years. Oh, and that he’s seen you naked.

He weighs all of the pros and cons and all of the ways the situation could play out if he tells you. He decides the only way it’s going to end is with you quitting and never wanting to see him again. Telling you who he is is out of the question.

Your face is buried in the menu, effectively blocking you from looking at Anakin. Your nerves are irritably on fire as you sit knee to knee with your boss. You go out to lunch with someone to talk. To get to know them. But you have no idea what to talk about with him. Either he’s super blunt or incredibly awkward and you don’t know what to make of it.

Could Sabine be right? Does he have a crush on you? Do men in their forties even get crushes?

“You are awfully quiet behind there,” Anakin finally says. “Are you hiding from me?”

You slam your menu down nervously. “What? Oh, no. Just… looking at all of the options.”

“I’m kidding,” Anakin chuckles. “If it helps, Leia likes the poke rice bowl. Luke likes the flatbread with artichokes. And I normally just get a burger.”

“Wow, a 9 year old who likes poke? You’ve got some interesting kids.”

“You have no idea,” Anakin replies bashfully. He really calms down when he talks about his kids. Maybe that’s your key to him. Keep him talking about his kids.

“Well, I think I’ll try Leia’s favorite. Do your kids enjoy trying different types of food?”

Anakin gives you a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose so. I didn’t raise them to be picky eaters. They eat what I eat. We had dumplings last night. They’re shit at using chopsticks but it makes for an entertaining meal.”

You laugh along with him, feeling yourself relax the more you see Anakin relax. “I love dumplings!”

“Yeah? We’ll have to have you over some time for dumplings, then.” Anakin doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until it’s hanging between you, awaiting your response.

“That would be nice,” you admit. “I can’t wait to meet them. Of course, you know… if they even want to meet me.”

“Are you kidding? Luke almost threw a fit over me leaving you in the car yesterday. And Leia… well, Leia gets excited about any new woman in my life. I mean, not that you’re my new woman, just you know, in terms of you being Dorothy’s replacement and-”

You place your hand over Anakin’s without a second thought. And it’s more than just skin on skin. It’s electric. You resist the urge to pull away because the overwhelming feeling almost keeps you from saying: “It’s fine, Mr. Skywalker. I get what you mean.”

Anakin is looking down at your hands and you wonder if he feels it too. Or if it’s entirely inappropriate to put your hand on his and he’s going to go back to being standoffish. You remove your hand from his and sit on it.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Anakin murmurs. “Mr. Skywalker. I would much prefer you to call me Anakin.”

You look up at him timidly. He’s being sincere. One corner of his lips are quirked up to form a sideways smile and your heart— your stupid, stupid heart adores it. Perhaps there is harm in pretending like your boss is in love with you. Perhaps keeping yourself in check is going to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Because now that you’re on a first name basis with Anakin Skywalker, you fear simply being his assistant is not going to be enough.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter four (coming soon)

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #dilf anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #as fate would have it

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Best Intentions ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: As vice president, you are obligated to attend your boss's wedding–you're also his friend. But while you should be focused on the newlyweds, you find yourself far too interested in the attractive best man and the woman who happens to be his plus one.

Pairing: best man!yoongi x vice president!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, slight thriller, s2l, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,753

Warnings: No infidelity, dark yoongi, sexual content, death (not major character)

sexual warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, cussing, handj*b, unprotected s*x (don't follow their lead!), penetration, car sex, d*rty talk, they c*me together, yoongi has tattoos

Now Playing: Haegeum

A/N: Little nervous about this one butI haven't written fic inspired by Haegeum yet so here we go! Hope you enjoy 💞

You watch as he brushes a few pieces of his dark locks out of his face. Never have you seen such a handsome and alluring man. He takes a seat on the barstool, nodding at the bartender in greeting. “Whiskey, neat. And a sex on the beach for the lady.”

He turns his head over his right shoulder, sparing a glance at the gentle hand resting on him. The woman who it belongs to is nothing short of radiant and confident. Her body is athletically built, her skin soft but tough. Her name is Yeong-Ja and she happens to be his plus one.

“__.” She smiles at you with ruby-red lips. “Why don’t you join us?” Her tone is thick and laced with sensuality. You fight the temptation but you feel instantly small compared to her. It’s not that you find yourself unattractive or anything but Yeong-Ja has a certain aura that’s incredibly rare.

The man, Min Yoongi, sets his gaze on you with a similar intensity. You only met the both of them about half an hour ago and they were already perfectly successful at making your bones quake. You’ve heard the idea of power couples a million times and though Min Yoongi and Yeong-Ja weren't officially together, you'd be a fool to think I'd never happen. They came here together after all.

“Thank you for the invite,” you reply, keeping your eyes as firm as you can. “But I still need to pay my respects to President Kim and his lovely new wife.”

Yeong-Ja taps Yoongi twice, signaling him to stand up. “I need to do that too actually. Why don’t we go together?”

He stays seated despite her gesture. “The drinks haven’t come out yet. I’ll wait for them if you two wanna go.” He looks at you again with his piercing, cat-like eyes. “You sure you don’t want anything __?”

You smooth down the sides of your dress, a nervous response you picked up since a teenager. You wish he wouldn’t follow the movement but he does. “Sure, maybe a strawberry daiquiri.”

Yoongi gives a nod and asks the bartender to include it in the order. “Thank you,” you say.

“Shall we?” Yeong-Ja breaks from Yoongi to near your side. “President Kim’s about to have a ton of guests giving their congratulations. It’s best we do it before the newlyweds run out of steam.”

You nod and make your way to the wedding table.

"Congratulations President and Mrs. Kim." You bow in respect until you're pulled into a light hug.

"Thank you __," Mrs. Kim says. You'd be surprised by the hug if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have known each other since before she and your boss first started dating.

You were the one to set them up actually.

You never thought you'd have that much gull with your boss but you and Seokjin had been working together for a long time. You considered him a friend.

"I'm very happy for the both of you." You smile warmly and embrace Mrs. Kim a little tighter. "And you make such a beautiful bride."

Once broken apart, Yeong-Ja bows herself. "President Kim, Mrs. Kim." They bow in return. "I'm honored to be a guest at your wedding. I wish you both a strong, healthy marriage."

Mrs. Kim smiles wide and touches the woman on the wrist. "Thank you Yeong-Ja....I'm hoping to be a guest at your wedding as well. If you don't mind me asking, how long have you and Yoongi been seeing each other?"

Swallow it. That suddenly sick, queasy feeling in your stomach. If Yoongi was planning to get serious with Yeong-Ja, it's none of your business.

Yeong-Ja blushes and lets out a small chuckle. "Of course, I'll be sure to invite you to my wedding but I'm afraid that won't be anytime soon. Yoongi and I have only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks."

Weeks? With the chemistry they have you figured they were at least at months.

"I wouldn't be too set on it being far out into the future," Seokjin says. "One of my colleagues got married after only six months of dating his girlfriend."

"Who was that?" You mouth to which he replied with 'gguk'. Ah, makes sense now.

"Plus," Seokjin continues, "Yoongi's always talking about you and that's saying a lot considering he's pretty brief in general. Whatever you got, it's keeping his attention." He blinks up and cracks a smirk. "Speak of the devil."

Yoongi walks towards the group of you with a drink in each hand. You really need to not stare at his perfectly chiseled face, stoic eyes, and slicked-back hair. Especially after hearing that he's been practically gushing about Yeong-Ja. Still, a bitch doesn't listen.

"Strawberry daiquiri." He passes you your drink before handing Yeong-Ja hers. "And a sex on the beach." He keeps a straight face as he does this.

You notice he's taken his suit jacket off since your last interaction. His sleeves are rolled up too, veins softly protruding.

"Many thanks," you say, taking a sip. "Where's your whiskey?" You distinctively remember him asking the bartender for one but it's nowhere in sight.

Yoongi gives a quick shrug. "Already drank it."

Before another word is spoken the stereos in the reception are cranked up. Yeong-Ja takes a sip of her drink and then snakes her hand into Yoongi's arm. "Come on, we should dance. You too __."

You shake your head. Absolutely not. Dancing is fun when you're with friends but not so much with couples. You learned that the hard way many times when you'd be told that you'll all dance together.

Wrong for you to fall for that.

As soon as a slow, sensual song came on, you'd be hitting the bar or going back to your claimed table in the corner.

"No I'm good. I wanna sit and enjoy my drink for now." You lift your glass to make your point clearer.

Yeong-Ja smiles at you, then tightens her grip around Yoongi's arm and drags him to the dance floor.

You try not to watch them.

You even try sitting in the chair facing opposite of them.

But you look like a wallflower.

Several men come up to you to ask you if you want to dance, thinking you're only waiting for an invitation. Nice of them to offer but you take no interest.

The only man you remotely have your mind on is currently being swayed by another woman. And after about twenty minutes of watching, you find out that Yeong-Ja is not only a sharp thinker and sweet talker—she's also a stunning dancer.

You can tell at first Yoongi is half-assing it but once she starts getting into the beat, his efforts double.

When it comes to the slower songs, however, you can't help but notice a shift in his posture. Yeong-Ja links both arms around his neck in an effort to close the gap between her and Yoongi. It doesn't close, however, as he keeps a safe distance.

It's odd, to say the least but maybe he's just not used to that type of intimacy yet. You continue to study the two of them until you're caught red-handed. Yoongi's eyes shift over to peer into yours.

You have to snap yourself out of your daze a few times. He's definitely just staring off due to the somber music. He's not looking at you.

Oh, shit—he is.

Yoongi traces his eyes down the lines of your dress, all the way down your bare legs and back up to your eyes. His gaze is heavy and gives you goosebumps.

You grip your glass with one hand while the other clings to the edge of your dress, earning you a half-smirk from him.

Fuck.

He's a man of few words but his non-verbals speak volumes.

"She's not his girlfriend." Seokjin looks up at you from his seated position. Mrs. Kim was mingling with some of her close friends so you seized the chance to ask Seokjin about what had just happened. You needed a second opinion. "But they came here together so I assume they're going out. Are you sure he was giving you suggestive looks?"

"I mean, they weren't that suggestive but he definitely body-scanned me and smirked." You pause before continuing. "I'm trying not to think about it in case—uh I don't know. I'm sorry, it's your wedding day and I shouldn't be bothering you about this stuff."

"__, we've been working basically side by side for ten years. Yes I'm your boss still but right now I'd like to think we're friends. You're not bothering me, okay? And as far as Yoongi goes, just ignore it. He was likely smiling at you and it came off as a smirk. If it happens again maybe ask him about it because as far as I know, things are going good between him and Yeong-Ja." Obviously not that well if he's checking out someone else. You bite back the need to speak your mind.

"Okay," you agree. "You're right. It was likely just nothing."

"But you didn't finish your sentence." Seokjin pipes up before you return to your seat. "You're trying not to think about in case what?"

Let's see....how to reply while remaining subtle as possible. Seokjin and Yoongi are close friends so you need to choose your words very carefully.

Telling him you have interest in Yoongi when he's told you over and over again that he's seeing someone would not end well. A classic Kim Seokjin scold would be in dire order.

"....just in case I'm just being foolish or exaggerating what really happened." You say the words casually, no a trace of a fib. "But thanks Seokjin, for letting me talk to you about it."

"Hey." Yoongi catches you in the hallway. Apparently also needed to use the restroom. You do your best to shrug off what happened earlier.

"Hi, how was dancing?" You ask stupidly.

"It was alright. Not usually my thing but I guess I didn't mind. You sure you didn't wanna join us though? Saw a few guys come up to you."

"You saw that?" And here you were thinking you were delusional for thinking Yoongi was purposefully paying attention to you. It causes a twinge of adrenaline to zap through your body. "I didn't really feel like dancing today, that's all."

For a second you and Yoongi exchange silence. You're not sure if he's done talking or if you need to fill the space with more small talk.

"I'm glad it was better for you than usual. Yeong-Ja looks like she knows what she's doing." You fake a small laugh, hoping to break the tension but Yoongi's face remains straight. "Well I should get back in there." You end up slowly walking away but he stops you.

"We don't know each other super well but, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier."

"What are you refering to?"

Yoongi gives you a 'really' look before flashing a gummy smile. It's the first time tonight you've seen him smile so fully. Your breath hitches as he continues. "I think we both know the answer to that. Don't you know how captivating you look in this dress?"

If your mouth wasn't gaping before it such as heck is now. But as giddy as the compliment makes you, you're in no way going to mess up a potentially blossoming relationship. You sure as hell hope that Yoongi isn't double-crossing Yeong-Ja, even if you do wish you'd be in her shoes a little.

"Um, not to be so forward but aren't you with Yeong-Ja? I appreciate the compliment though I'd—"

"We're not serious."

"Excuse me?" You as so utterly lost. Sure he and Yeong-Ja weren't together officially yet but they came here as each other's date. Seokjin and his wife were also making comments about their supposedly romantic relationship and she wasn't denying it so why is he coming onto you like this?

"That didn't come out right. I mean, we're not together romantically but we do work together. I asked her to come because I figured she'd be good company. Seokjin thinks we mold together well but I'm not really interested. To keep it short, I respect her as a coworker and consider her in the highest regard, professionally."

"You're not lying to me right? Because she seems really interested and I don't want to get in the way of anything. I'm not that type of woman alright?" You cross your arms reflexively.

Yoongi takes a step towards you, focused intent. "I have no reason to lie to you __. It's true Yeong-Ja may be interested but she's not the one I've spent half the night staring at."

The hairs on your neck stand straight. Blood rushes through your veins. "You should probably tell Yeong-Ja your feelings then."

"I did," Yoongi interuppts. "When we were back in there she came onto me. I thought all the slow, romantic music was getting to her but she kept trying to kiss me so I had to tell her I wasn't interested in anything beyond friendship."

"Oh, well, is she okay or—"

"She'll be fine. She's like me, not much fazes her. She's likely hitting on the next guy that takes her fancy now." Yoongi inches closer, and you take in the cologne he's wearing. It's subtle but enough to knock you out of your senses. "So you see, I'm not that kind of man either."

"Well good because I would have kicked you in the balls if you were double-crossing Yeong-Ja."

Yoongi snorts. "I'd expect nothing less. But thankfully, my balls are safe for now."

Great, now you're thinking about his balls. Yoongi's breath blows hot against your skin as the space between you seems to get narrower and narrower.

"Do you wanna get out of here for a bit?" He asks with a hoarse voice. "I was thinking about going out for a quick smoke."

"I don't smo—" Yoongi quirks a provocative brow. "Oh, " you finish, knowing full well he isn't proposing to have just a smoke.

You shudder as he towers above you in the backseat of his Bentley. Evidently, Yoongi did well for himself. "We shouldn't be doing this here." When Yoongi proposed you to go out, you didn't expect him to be this quick to get down and dirty.

Fooling around is one thing, but fucking in the backseat of his car in the middle of a wedding is a whole new animal for you.

"No one's gonna see if that's what you're worried about. Everyone's too busy wishing the newlyweds well..." His car is short on space but Yoongi manages to remove his silk vest. The skin of his smooth chest peeks out near the collar of his dress shirt. "But if you wanna stop here then, I won't force you any further."

God this is so indecent but you want him so, so bad. His body on yours, in yours—fuck him for being this hard to resist. You grip the fabric of his shirt and tug him back down.

Yoongi takes the opportunity to sink his head near your ear. "I was hoping this would be your answer." Your eyes roll up when he places a hot, open-mouth kiss on your neck. It's not sloppy but rather controlled as if hinting that this isn't his first go around.

"Take it out for me sweetheart." He coos after a few more nips at your jaw. The look of bewilderment on your face brings out a cocky smirk. "Please?"

His eyes turn playful as he watches you fumble with his belt. "Sorry," he says. "I usually prefer doing this myself but given the position we're in, it's better you do it." You nod. "I'd also take my time with you if it weren't for the fact that we're in my car right now." Who's fault is that? You bite down your bitterness.

"I understand." You pull at his belt buckle, releasing the leather from its hold. He groans when the tips of your fingers graze his bulge. Once you unzip the front of his pants you reach forward to free his cock.

"Fuck," Yoongi breathes, his hard length pulsating in your hand. You whimper and reflexively squeeze him harder. "Shit, don't."

You feel hot all over, drunk on the pleasure he's getting from this. "But you like this," you say, moving your hand up and down his shaft. Arousal pools in your panties as you watch him struggle to gain his composure. You wouldn't be disappointed if he came in your hand from this, but Yoongi puts a stake in those plans like a tidal wave.

He reaches between his legs, suddenly yanking your hand off of him to place it above your head. "You know what I really like __?" He grabs your other hand to join it with the other. "When people listen to what their told the first time."

He pushes up the skirt of your dress, tugs your panties to the side, and thrusts himself into you in one full motion. The immediate stretch has you gasping for air. "Fuck Yoongi–" Yes, you're wet but you still need time to adjust! "Yoongi please, I need a second."

He doesn't respond with any more than husky groans as he steadies himself above you, hands clamping down on your waist. Yoongi stills himself in you, waiting for your signal to move and when you give it to him he wastes no time setting a vigorous pace.

Every push and pull sets your body on fire as his length beats inside you. You move to claw at his back, desperately needing something to grip, but your hands are thrown back down. "Leave them," he growls.

You end up clutching your wrists as your body bounces up and down the seat of the car. The friction is a little rough due to the leather material but you don't have time to think much about it as long as Yoongi keeps fucking you this good.

"Feels-ah-amazing Yoongi, fuck. How'd you get so good at this?"

"How do you think sweetheart?" He wraps one of your legs around his waist, the new angle allows him to sink deeper into your gut. Your hips arch and a few more buttons on Yoongi's dress shirt pop open.

"You have a–chest-chest tattoo?" It's only a blur and you barely get a glimpse when he leans his body forward. But over his heart is black ink in the form of what you can only guess as some kind of wild cat.

"Mhm," he grunts. "Got it when I was 19. One of those impulsive things. Fuck–" he curses feeling you clench around him. "Is this a turn-on for you? You're squeezing me so fucking hard right now."

"Yes. My attraction for you went up about 100%, I can't explain it."

He's amused, shit-eating grin on his far too handsome face. "Well lucky for you, you don't have to explain anything. Open my shirt."

You do as he says and swallow hard seeing the tattoo of a bobcat over his left pec. He can tell you want to ask about it but being that his cock is deep in your heat, he's a little preoccupied. "I'll tell you about it later when we're not you know–fucking like rabbits in the back seat of my Bentley."

You let out a small giggle. It's a wonder no one's caught you yet. Yoongi picks up the pace again, with rough thrusts and beads of sweat around his forehead. "Fuck this pussy is making me so hard. Never been in something so wet and tight in my life." You moan as his cock drags in and out of you, stimulating your g-spot only too perfectly.

"Oh god 'm gonna come Yoongi!" You can't hold back your screams anymore. He's hitting inside you so well, cock throbbing, hair sweaty, muscles tensing, and that sinful chest tattoo teasing in front of your eyes.

"Damn right you are, make this cock yours sweetheart."

Your pussy starts spasming around him. You throw your head back, feeling your tightened core close to unwinding. Yoongi's cock twitches inside you in the seconds following before you both have your release.

Yoongi takes himself out of you, cock dripping with your cum. Your breaths are heavy as you blink up at him from your reclined position. "First time fucking in a car?" he asks, monotone.

"Mhm."

"Did you like it?"

"Mhm."

"Good, I'll give you a few minutes to gather yourself."

Once you both manage to make yourself presentable again, you head back to the reception.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Yeong-Ja hollers at Yoongi, rushing to him through the parking lot. You're startled at her sharp tone but the closer she gets the more your stomach feels unsettled.

She doesn't give you a glance at all, her attention fully on Yoongi. "Min," she starts. Odd of her to be calling him by his last name all the sudden. "We need to leave now."

You dart your eyes at the two of them. "What-what's going on? It hasn't been that long, did something happen?" Yeong-Ja hesitates to answer so you turn to the man next to you. "Yoongi–Oh my god!" You screech when you see a glowing, red dot hovering over his heart.

Yoongi follows your line of sight. "Shit–" He curses under his breath. "Of all fucking times."

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

Yeong-Ja swiftly pulls out a gun from what appears to be a thigh holster. When she does, you spot the same bobcat tattoo on her upper thigh.

Yeong-Ja cocks the gun before aiming it to the far left. She takes the shot, the red dot instantly disappearing from Yoongi's chest.

"You don't know Yoongi very well __." Yeong-Ja lowers her gun ever so slightly. "To the outside, he's Min Yoongi, a reserved and calculative data analyst, best man to your boss Kim Seokjin. But to the inside world, he's Agust D, leader of the most feared mafia gang, Bangtan."

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Yoongi says. "I wanted to spare you from this. But now that you know our dirty little secret we can't possibly let you go."

So she's his right-hand man.

When Yoongi said they were coworkers, this was not what you were expecting.

How the fuck do you get out of this?

Masterlist

A/N: Me through this whole thing...how do I write warnings without giving away the ending? Anyway, tysm for reading and LMK what you think 💞

Note: Pls help me decide if i should turn this into a series of keep it a one shot ➡ vote here ☺

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios #fic:bestintentions #kookslastbutton

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

Text

Moving on to You

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Aaron finally tells his longtime crush about his feelings when he almost loses her (Sequel to Move On)

Warning: jealousy, pining, awkward dates, canon level violence, non-accurate medical stuff

Word Count: 4.5K

Masterlist

A/N I've had this in my drafts for months and I finally decided to finish and publish it per request

Aaron Hotchner is the definition of levelheaded. He’s renowned in the FBI not only for his success rate at catching criminals but also for his professionalism. And snapping a pencil with his fist whilst staring at his subordinate through his office window as she smiled up at an unknown agent was incredibly unprofessional. He knew this wasn’t the first man she had gotten to know over the past year but this was the first time he was forced to actually witness her flirting with another man.

He knew he had no right to be jealous, their relationship had never progressed beyond friendly in the year that Y/N had been on the team. Still he couldn’t help but feel the slight clench of pain in his chest every time he saw her smile at her phone or overheard one of her conversations with another team member about a new guy.

Nonetheless his professionalism prevailed as he began to review potential cases. He noted one regarding a serial killer just outside of DC, setting it aside to pass onto Garcia.

The next morning the team was assembled in the conference room as Penelope relayed the information about a killer who had been targeting strippers. Although Aaron’s attention was on Y/N as he observed her clearly exhausted body language. Probably a date night with that agent, he thought cynically.

Soon enough Penelope was done speaking. “We’ll head out in 30. Meet in the garage then,” he ordered as the rest of the team. He was headed out towards his office when he stopped as he heard Morgan’s voice.

“Up late with the new boy toy?” Derek teased.

“I guess you could say that,” Y/N answered casually. “I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“Wait why?” JJ asked suddenly. Similar to what Aaron wanted to ask.

He was still turned away from the group but Aaron could practically hear Y/N’s shrug. “Just weren’t clicking anymore.”

“What was he into something weird? Like a foot fetish?” Derek asked with full seriousness.

Y/N laughed. “I’m not answering that.”

“So he was!” Derek shouted as she passed Aaron down to the bullpen.

The rest filed out of the conference room as Aaron continued to pretend to be busy with the file. “She’s single again,” Rossi sung quietly.

“I am aware and I don’t see how that affects me,” Aaron tried to deflect.

“Oh come on, I see the way you watch her. I also noticed a broken pencil in your trash can. Did you Hulk-out when you saw her with that agent yesterday?”

“Wait why were you in my office?”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is she’s single, you’re single, and you’ve been in love with her for the past year-”

“No I haven’t,” Aaron suddenly cut in, sounding like a teenage girl. He cleared his throat. “I’m not in love with her. Besides she’s my subordinate-”

“And you don’t want anyone to think she’s on the team for the wrong reason blah, blah, blah,” Rossi finished. “You said that a year ago. Besides, at this point, no one would think that. You deserve to be happy, Aaron. Get out there and get the girl!”

With those words Dave left, leaving Aaron in his thoughts. Could they actually be together? Would she even want him?

He pushed those thoughts aside, getting ready to head out with the rest of his team. Including the girl who consumed his every thought.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, these are SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Rossi, L/N, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid,” Aaron introduced his team to the town’s sheriff.

“We appreciate you guys coming so fast. The people here aren’t used to this type of crime,” Sheriff Osborne explained, leading the feds through the police station.

Aaron tried to listen to the sheriff’s information but rather he was keenly aware of all the police officers stares. Pushing through it, the agents followed the sheriff into a conference room that would serve as their setup.

“Alright, JJ and Reid, head to the medical examiner. We need to figure out what exactly he’s doing to these girls. Morgan and I will go to the clubs these girls were working, see if there was anyone who stuck out to the other dancers. Rossi and Prentiss, head to the most recent crime scene. L/N, I want you to work on the geographical profile,” Aaron ordered.

That last order raised an eyebrow for everyone on the team. “But… Reid usually does the geographical profile,” Y/N suggested gently, a confused twinge in her voice.

“Yes, well since it seems you can’t stop talking about your personal life I figured it’d be best if you work alone for a little while.” The second those words left Aaron’s mouth he instantly regretted them. Y/N looked taken aback by his rude words but having never questioned his authority she just lowered her gaze to the ground. Looking around the other members of his team looked aghast at his words too. Aaron’s soft spot for the newest agent had been noticed by everyone on the team (except of course the agent in question) so seeing him be so outrightly rude was jarring. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, especially not humiliate her in front of the team, but he was so frustrated having to hear the others question Y/N on her love life around the office and in the car.

Seeing that he shouldn’t continue barking orders, Aaron turned to exit the room, the rest following. Unseen by him was every member of the team giving Y/N sympathetic looks.

Once buckled inside their SUV, Morgan began to question his boss. “What was that with L/N back there? We all talk about our personal lives all the time and it’s never affected our work, Y/N included.”

Aaron sighed, really not having a good reason for his outburst. “She brought that agent into our office unauthorized. He shouldn’t have even had access to our floor.”

“So you yell at her a day later in front of an entire precinct?”

“Morgan, drop it,” Aaron said sternly, not wanting to continue this. Seeing as there was no point in continuing, Derek kept his mouth shut but the ride to the club was tense the rest of the way.

“Hey, sorry about your boss,” a voice interrupted Y/N’s intense concentration on the map in front of her. She whipped her head around to look at him, a little startled. Seeing her alarm the young officer took a step back. “Didn’t mean to scare you, just thought you might like some coffee.”

“Hmm? Oh! Thanks,” she said, her brain catching up to his words. She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip. It was made wrong but not wanting to seem ungrateful she gave the officer a smile.

“Thought you could use it after your boss treated you so badly,” the officer empathized.

Y/N sucked in a breath. “You saw that, huh?”

“I think everyone saw it,” the officer chuckled awkwardly. “I’m Officer Olson, but you can call me Cole.” Y/N took a second to observe the man. He wasn’t necessarily her type, her having a thing for the dark, brooding types, but he was certainly attractive.

“Agent Y/N L/N,” she introduced.

“So what are you working on, Agent Y/N L/N?” he asked, saying her name flirtatiously.

She let out a small laugh at his tone. “Um it’s called a geographical profile. We take every significant location like homes, workplaces, abduction sights, crime scene, disposal sights, etc. to get an idea of these killers comfort zones. Which often leads us to where they will either strike next, where they live or work, or what their holding place might be in cases where victims are abducted.”

“Wow, this profiling stuff is crazy. I’ve heard you guys can tell someone’s entire life story from just one look,” he teased.

“I don’t know about that but yeah, you can learn a lot about a person from just a conversation if you pay close attention.”

“What can you tell about me?”

Y/N looked him up and down. His body language screamed that he was interested in her but she didn’t want to embarrass him too much. “You have the confidence of a youngest son and let me guess, you were in a frat in college?” The officer blushed, surprised she sussed that out so quickly. “You’re here as an officer for glory and you got it, the people here already admire you. You actually got the chance to move onto something bigger, probably DC, but it’s easier to stand out in your small hometown.” Cole just stared at the pretty FBI agent, slightly mortified that she saw through him so clearly. His first instinct was deny it but something about her made him think twice. She just smirked at his silence. “Gotcha.”

Before Officer Olson could say anything, two other FBI agents walked into the room. “Careful L/N,” Rossi interrupted the pair, “Hotch was pulling up as we walked in.”

“Guess I better go,” Cole said sheepishly. “Nice to meet you Agent Y/N.” She couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way onto her face at the use of her title and first name.

“Damn, already moving onto a different guy?” Emily asked with a chuckle.

“No, he just came in and introduced himself,” Y/N brushed off. Emily and Rossi both just hummed in disagreement.

As the BAU chief walked in he didn’t notice the burning gaze of Officer Olson. What he did notice was the way Y/N seemed to shy away from his very presence. As he stepped into the conference room his heart clenched when she met his gaze but just turned away, busying herself with the board that showed the geographical profile.

After a fitful night of regret, Aaron decided to apologize to his young agent in the morning. But as he opened his door to his crappy motel room into the crappy hallway he could hear two voices.

“Thought I’d bring you some coffee that didn’t come from an old police station coffee pot,” a masculine voice flirted.

“Thank you,” came the giggle from Y/N. Aaron practically groaned to himself. This couldn’t be happening again.

“I was wondering… if you’re not too busy,” the voice changed, gaining a nervous lilt, “if you’d like to get dinner with me on a slower night before you and your team leave? I know you’re actively chasing a serial killer so it doesn’t have to be fancy.” The voice seemed to have caught themselves, changing their pitch. “O-or it can be really fancy! Whatever you want! I’m not picky I-”

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Y/N’s calming voice interrupted, putting the boy out of his misery. “We can do tonight. Just grab something easy and nearby.”

“Ye- yeah, I’d like that.” Aaron internally rolled his eyes at being able to hear the bright smile in this guy’s voice. “I’ll uh see you then.”

“See you later.” Aaron sighed internally, hearing the door to Y/N’s room close softly. She had been single for what? 24hours? And he had still lost his opportunity? Deciding that his emotions were running too high to talk to Y/N right now, he just let his door fall back closed, deciding to just get ready for the day.

“When I graduated from the FBI academy I was placed in the Human Resources branch because of my psych degree. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do so when I heard about an opening in the Behavioral Analysis Unit I jumped at it and fortunately my boss, Hotch, was willing to take a chance on me. Agent Rossi and the rest of the team pretty much taught me everything I know,” Y/N explained as her date stared at her in awe.

“Wow, that’s quite the resume you have,” he chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ll admit it’s been a long time since I went on a date where the girl’s career was more impressive.” Y/N quirked her eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything. “Not that it’s an issue, just not a lot going on around here.”

She just hummed looking down at her food. She tried to covertly push away the peas in her food, not wanting to insult Cole’s food choice.

There was an awkward beat of silence between the two that was fortunately broken up by Y/N’s phone ringing. She felt a sense of relief reading her boss’ name flash across the screen. “Hey Hotch,” she answered.

“L/N, where are you?” his stern voice cut to the chase.

“Um, this place called Vincent's with Officer Olson. It’s like 15 minutes from the station. Why?”

Aaron pushed through the reoccurring pang in his chest. “Some other officers cornered our unsub, James Stevens, in a strip club. He’s holding five girls hostage inside.”

“Where is it?”

“125 North St. 5 minutes east of you.”

“I’ll be right over,” Y/N quickly cut in.

“L/N, do not engage before the rest of us get there. Got it?”

“Yeah, I understand,” she agreed begrudgingly. She hung up the phone, already collecting her things. “I have to go, the unsub is holding a group of girls hostage inside a club 5 minutes from here.”

“Oh shit,” Cole exclaimed, grabbing his things and leaving some cash on the table. The pair quickly jumped into their respective cars, lights and sirens blaring as they headed to the club.

As soon as Y/N jumped out of the SUV several officers flocked towards her. “Scene is yours agent, what do you want to do?” Sheriff Osborne asked.

“Any shots fired? Do we have confirmation the girls are alive?”

“Snipers have eyes on three of the girls and we have no reason to believe the other two are dead. Upon entering he fired randomly, killing a few patrons per witnesses. Thing is, when he took control he let every man leave but held all the girls.”

“Okay,” she acknowledged, trying to figure out what her next move would be. Based on the profile she knew he was negotiable but if he felt any sort of threat he’d go down guns blazing, taking down anyone he could. “I’m going in to talk to him.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Cole’s voice suddenly interrupted. He had grabbed Y/N’s arm, looking at her with pleading eyes. She just stared at him, confused before sliding her arm out of his grip.

“Agent, shouldn’t you wait for your team?” The sheriff’s voice interrupted the awkward encounter.

“This guy’s going to get more agitated and unstable the longer we wait. I’m going in now,” she said, pulling the gun out of her waistband and handing it to the sheriff. “And don’t let anyone in there until I call for it. We could lose a lot of lives if we spook this guy.”

The sheriff nodded as she approached the door.

“Agent L/N is entering the building,” crackled over the radio as Hotch and the rest of the team raced through the streets.

“What?” Aaron’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Repeat that,” he called over the radio.

“Agent L/N has entered the building to begin negotiations,” the police reporter called over the radio again.

Derek stared at the radio in shock from the passenger seat. “Hotch-” he began, wanting to slam his foot on the gas.

“I know,” he said, already pressing the car to go faster than they had been going previously.

They arrived on scene in record time, Hotch barely taking the time to throw the car in park. He was immediately heading for the door, not bothering to get all the information he would normally wait for, too set on getting the woman he was in love with out. “Stop him!” he heard a sudden shout. Several officers flocked to him in an effort to block his path. Whirling around furiously he found a desperate looking sheriff. “Agent L/N said that if anyone goes in there a lot of lives will be lost. And I’m guessing your agent would be one of them.”

Aaron wanted to pull rank and argue but he knew the sheriff was right but he was desperate to get his agent out of there safely.

“I tried to stop her,” an officer interrupted. Aaron recognized the voice from the hallway. All he could muster was an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the sheriff.

“Do we have a line of communication?”

“Yeah, we have Stevens on the phone. No one’s talked in a while though, we’ve just been listening to your agent try to calm him down.”

Soon enough the BAU chief had the phone. “Agent L/N, exit the building, that’s an order.”

It took a second but he got a shaky, “Not gonna happen, Hotch.”

“L/N-”

“You heard the lady,” a new voice cut him off. James Stevens. “She doesn’t want to leave yet. C’mon, let me keep her for a little while longer?” he pleaded sarcastically. “The pretty girls rarely keep their clothes on nowadays. Agent L/N is a breath of fresh air.”

Aaron clenched his jaw at his words. “We can work something out James.” Covering the microphone he leaned over to one of the officers. “Tell the snipers to take the shot of they get it,” he whispered.

“Come on you know there’s no walking out of this a free man, just let us walk out and we’ll talk this out,” he heard Y/N’s voice. There was a minute of silence and Aaron could only imagine what the psychopath inside was doing. “At least let the girls go. I’ll stay, I’ll be your collateral.”

“Agen-” Aaron immediately began to reprimand.

“Shut up!” James shrieked through the phone so loud Aaron had to pull it away. “Fine,” he heard more quietly. “You five, go! You stay.”

Once again Aaron covered the microphone. “As they’re coming out, go.”

All the girls started immediately scrambling up, heading for the door. It happened so fast there was hardly time to register it.

The first girl reached the door, wrenching it open. She was immediately met with a wall of SWAT officers. They pressed inside, guns up as the girls shrieked and scrambled away. “No!” Y/N heard herself shout, going towards them. Mistaking her attempt to salvage the situation as an effort to escape, Stevens was on her in a second.

She felt a sharp pain pierce her abdomen as he tackled her to the ground. She then felt him slump against her before being quickly pushed off, a SWAT officer kneeling over her, calling for a medic.

“Agent down, agent down,” Aaron heard the report come over the radio. He was immediately tearing away from the phone, running towards the entrance of the club. But Rossi intercepted him before he could go inside.

“I know, I know, I heard,” Dave tried to calm down his friend. “But EMTs just went in and you don’t need to be in the way.” Aaron began to protest but was cut off again. “I know it’s hard to watch the woman you love be hurt again but Y/N will be fine.”

Before Aaron could continue arguing he caught sight of Y/N being rolled out on a gurney. Dave let him go as he followed the EMTs to the ambulance. But before he could climb in the same officer from earlier ran up. “I-I’m her boyfriend,” he explained as he tried to climb up into the ambulance.

With those words Aaron nearly snapped. Despite his insecurity in his place in Y/N’s life, he knew that was a complete fallacy. She would never move that fast with a complete stranger. “Officer,” he caught the young man’s attention.

Cole visibly paled seeing Y/N’s boss. “A-agent Hotchner.”

Satisfied with the boy’s scared shitless expression, Aaron turned back to the EMT’s. “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced, pulling out his badge. “This is my agent and I will be accompanying her to the hospital.” And with that, he sent Officer Olson one last glare before climbing in.

Upon entering the ambulance the EMT stepped out, shutting the doors. As he took a seat, he realized his agent was still awake, albeit in agony. “Y/N? I’m right here,” he said, taking her blood soaked hand. Her shirt had been removed, allowing him to see the stab wound that had been tightly wrapped with blood soaked bandages. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, Aaron,” she said through gritted teeth, her face twisted in pain as they hit a bump in the road. “I’m so cold an-and tired.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way she said his first name. It was refreshing, almost a relief, to hear his name come from her lips. “Hey, no just stay awake for a little while longer. We’re almost to the hospital.” Y/N just nodded, tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks.

“Why’d you come?” she suddenly asked. “I thought you hated me.”

It physically pained Aaron to hear that. “I’m so sorry I’ve been treating you the way I have on this case. I just couldn’t help but…” Aaron hesitated with the next words. He didn’t want to be vulnerable but she deserved the truth. “…be jealous.”

That took Y/N’s mind off of the pain. “Jealous?”

Aaron hung his head. “Yes, I-I’ve had feelings for you ever since you joined. I understand if you want to take some time away after this or even transfer to another team of your choice. I just thought you were owed an explanation for my behavior.”

“Y-you’ve had feelings for me for that long?”

Aaron squeezed her hand again. “Please don’t make me say it,” he asked but inside, he’d humiliate himself a million times to make up for what he did and earn her affection.

“Just this once,” she requested, tears pricking her eyes, whether from pain or emotion. “I need to be sure it’s not the blood loss.”

Aaron sighed softly, admiring her face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for the last year.”

“I’ve felt the same about you,” she confessed.

“Say it,” Aaron pressed, his other hand now clutching onto their already joined hands.

“I love you, Aaron.”

A smile tugged at Aaron’s lips. He hadn’t realized how much tension had gathered and with Y/N’s confession it all dispersed. Reaching a hand up to her face he cupped her cheek, tangling his fingertips into her hair. “You’re gonna be okay,” Aaron promised. “You have to be okay.” But he could see her eyes slipping closed and he could feel how clammy her skin was. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. C’mon.”

“It hurts,” she groaned through half closed lids.

“I know, you’re almost there.”

It took a few hours of surgery and another couple days of rest in the hospital but Agent L/N was finally discharged to go home. Unfortunately, she had to have a caretaker for that period of time. Fortunately, her boss/the man who was in love with her, was more than happy to take responsibility for his agent.

“Almost there,” Aaron tried to soothe a very tired and pained Y/N. Taking a few deep breaths, she found the strength to hobble over to her bed with a lot of support from Aaron.

She let out a groan as Aaron helped settle her on the bed. As he gripped her hand, he couldn’t help but see flashes of blood, remembering that night in the ambulance. “I’m gonna grab your bag from the car. Be right back,” Aaron promised with a peck to her lips.

While grabbing her bag was a legitimate excuse, he really just needed a minute to calm himself down. He needed to remember that Y/N was safe, not lying on a surgical table or in the back of an ambulance bleeding out.

He quickly hurried back into her apartment after grabbing her bag, re-entering the bedroom. “Here you are,” Aaron said, leaning the go-bag up against her dresser which was placed next to the bed. “I guess I’ll um let you rest,” he murmured out awkwardly. As much as he’d rather stay over she probably wanted some time to relax. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aaron,” her voice interrupted him as he turned towards the door. Pivoting on his heel, he looked back at her. “Can you… um… just stick around for a little while? Every time I closed my eyes when I was alone in the hospital all I could see was him.”

That surprised Aaron a bit but it felt as if his entire being melted. She wanted him to protect her?

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed. There was no place in her bedroom to sit so he settled on the end of the bed. “‘M glad you feel safe with me,” he murmured.

“I do,” she confirmed. “You’re like my personal bodyguard,” she said, recalling memories of him barking orders at doctors when she was in pain or when annoying officers came to visit.

“I’m glad,” he smiled. He helped her settle into a lying position before resuming his place at the foot of the bed, regretfully letting out a yawn. After all, being a personal bodyguard was exhausting.

She noticed his yawn and immediately began demanding he lie down too. “You’ve been up helping me for days. Help me by sleeping now, please.”

“I really don’t want to intrude,” Aaron excused. “You don’t need me accidentally hurting you.”

“You won’t,” she swore. “Please. I’ll feel better knowing you’re resting too.”

Sleeping with her did sound nice. An irrational part of him thinking he could keep her nightmares away by doing so. So he complied, sliding under the covers she had pulled back for him. As he settled, she scooted closer to him as much as her surgical wounds would allow. Until she ended up tucked under his arm, head resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep,” he murmured the order, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Masterlist

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #x reader #bau #bau x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 months

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Last Twilight: Ep 12

The TL;DR of this post is just... Sincerely what the fuck?

I remember posting after Episode 1 that I was keeping a suspicious eye on the mention of the eye donation because while I do think in real life disabled people have the right to manage their disability any way they want to and would support someone's choice to get a cornea transplant, real life is not fiction and fiction is designed to pull messages and themes from. Episode 12 from almost it's first moments completely undermines two and a half month's worth of messaging about learning to accept a new reality. I don't think it is foolish of me to assume based on the set up of the first episode that Last Twilight was supposed to be an exploration of grief as told in conversation and parallel between someone who lost a loved one and someone who lost their vision.

If this story had continued in the way it started out the first half of this show, I honestly think it could have been a 10, those first few episodes I was enjoying so much I was worried it might knock out Moonlight Chicken as my favorite Aof offering. Now I have rated Last Twilight as a 3, I will never suggest it to anyone and I will never rewatch it. Why?

Because from a fictional narrative perspective, having Day gain his vision back at the end undermines the entirety of the show's messaging from the first 11 episodes. Every single lesson, every single message just absolutely obliterated by every moment of Episode 12.

Day getting his vision back right as he and Mhok get back undermines the narrative in the following ways:

Rewarding Day for managing to create a successful and happy life as a blind person (literally like "hey you graduated and ran a bookstore while blind! Congrats you get to be normal again!)

"Rewarding" Mhok by insuring that he never has to do any caregiving for Day going forward so we don't get any navigating or expectation of Mhok and Day being in a longterm inter-abled relationship

We eliminate all chances that the subject of pitying Day re-enters any future fights, meaning there is now zero risk for Day maintaining a relationship with someone he worries might infantilize or pity him

It absolves Night of any remaining guilt he may be carrying from thinking he caused the accident that made Day blind

It absolves Day of any remaining anger at Night thinking he caused the accident that made Day blind

Mhon's ableist fucking ass gets her "normal" son back the way she confided in Mhok she'd hoped for after the first failed cornea transplant

It undermines the theme of the in universe Last Twilight novel and the conversation that Day and Mhok have about Mee being turned in to a statue on the top of the mountain and how that was hopeful because her father had found a sight so beautiful he couldn't think of anywhere else Mee would need to see and instead turns the message essentially in to: "there is hope, you can be cured"

It dismantles their cute couple thing of the one palm distance which also makes the OST that they played all the fucking time completely irrelevant

And most importantly, it undermines all the growth that Day went through while processing his grief and the two, TWO separate occasions where he came to terms with his disability

And that's just the disregard for the narrative messages, giving Day his eyesight back is incredibly ableist in the case of this story because of certain ableist through-lines woven in to the entire show. Namely:

While Day is blind, there is no reciprocity of care. Mhok is always taking care of Day, I cannot think of a single instance where Day really took care of Mhok in a significant way. By focusing so much on Day, and abandoning any strong focus on Mhok's grief over losing his sister, Day is never given an opportunity to be a support system for Mhok. Which is fucking ableist. Disabled people have so many things to offer the world, and while they might have specific support needs that does not mean that they can't offer support in return.

Mhok doesn't introduce Day to his family at their graves until after Day has his vision restored, and it is only then that Mhok says he has someone to take care of him. Able-ist!

Day gets his vision back almost immediately after a conversation with his mother where she says he wants to be normal and the fight he had with Mhok is normal.

Handling the entire story this way, with the break up, and a three year time gap, and then Day having his vision restored literally hours after he and Mhok get back together does not allow for any exploration of Mhok and Day having to figure out the differences between Mhok being his caretaker and Mhok being his partner.

We shunted literally every part of Mhok's backstory completely to the side, which in and of itself is fucking ableist in my opinion because it implies that able bodied people who are caretakers for or who are in a relationship with a disabled person don't have any time for themselves, to deal with their own shit or to have their own needs because they are too busy taking care of a disabled person.

With this being, what, the first main character in a BL with blindness, you want to go for the cure route after acceptance? Like you are rewarding someone for their bravery of handling their disability instead of allowing the disabled person to remain happy and thriving in the life they have built for themselves while they continue to be blind?

I'm not blind, so forgive me if I am overstepping at any point here but in my opinion, if you want a narrative that gives Day back his eyesight, that story that not be written by a sighted person. You need blind writers, people with the lived experience having control over the story so the narrative is better able to navigate the complexity of a decision like that, to reverse a character's blindness. I just think blind people would be able to minimize how much returning someone's eyesight might come off as ableist in a story like this. Additionally going the cure route is not a choice I think anyone should be making with the first BL that focuses this heavily on blindness. This world is so fucking ableist, if you want to make a story with a disabled main character with how slim of pickings there are, it feels much more responsible and subversive to go a disability pride route.

And these are just the issues around disability in this show, I have problems with the classism in this show, I have problems with the absolute ridiculousness of Mhok and Day's breakup and their reunion. MHOK APOLOGIZES, MHOK THANKS DAY FOR BREAKING UP WITH HIM, DAY DOES NOT APOLOGIZE FOR BREAKING UP WITH MHOK OR BLOCKING HIM ON SOCIALS FOR THREE YEARS BECAUSE MHOK PITIED DAY ONE (1) TIME. I get not wanting to be pitied, I get it, but seriously it is so much less compelling to have Day just completely abandon Mhok after all of the positive experiences they've had together because he messed up once rather than reel himself back in and have an adult conversation about what happened and try to get back to a balanced state.

Anyway, fuck this show. I am so disappointed that this is Aof's last directed piece for who knows how long. He could have gone out with a bang after Moonlight Chicken and now I am just fucking thankful I won't have to see anything else from him for awhile.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #let me reiterate that real life is different than fiction #disabled people have all the right in the world to handle their disability and any associated treatments however they want #this is fiction #and fiction reaches a wide audience and therefore has a responsibility in its messaging #last twilight meta #last twilight analysis

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

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A Grand Deception - Part One

As a seamstress, you know your way around a ballgown. A ballroom is a different story, but you are determined to experience it for yourself.

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Personal Disclaimer: I wrote this having only watched the Bridgerton tv show. About a week ago, I discovered that Benedict's book-canon love story shares some similarities with my fic. These similarities are coincidental. After posting a poll about the topic, I decided to share this work anyway. Please know I am aware of the situation!

Rating: Mature. Minors, do not interact

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: A lot of backstory, trespassing, lying about identity, alcohol consumption, flirting, references to Regency-era values. Author played fast and loose with rules of Regency dining etiquette.

Next | Masterlist

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It was of some comfort to you that - when the situation inevitably unraveled - you could not claim to have invented the idea yourself.

You were hardly the first seamstress who used her skills to disguise herself. Nor were you the first to use her overheard knowledge to learn who may be hosting a masquerade ball so she could attend.

To that end, Madame Delacroix had told you of her own experience infiltrating the ton’s events. You had learned well, but you were merely another follower, not a visionary. The penalty for your transgression would not change, but your conscience would be eased slightly with the knowledge.

The single inspiration you could claim as entirely your own was that of your shop. You purchased gowns at the end of every season, researched coming trends for the next season, and altered the gowns to fit.

Ladies of rich and respectable families were willing to part with gowns for a relative pittance, but most of your gowns were from society matrons. When their time playing chaperone to some wide-eyed miss had ended in a successful engagement, the lucky matron retired to a comfortable life in the countryside. What use did she have for extravagant society gowns there? And, with the style of gathers and ruffles for married women, you could easily fashion multiple gowns from one matronly dress.

Your shop was hardly the most popular one in London, but you ran a brisk enough business. There were no investors to keep fat with your profits, and you poured most of your money back into the materials and help you hired. It could tax the nerves to operate with such a small amount of money in your coffers, but such was the nature of the business. The lead-in to a season was incredibly busy and profitable, but the off season could ruin you.

But you were happy. Your work was varied and interesting. You worked with sumptuous fabrics in the richest colors. It was a necessity to keep abreast of the latest fashion trends. You truly could not have imagined a better life for yourself.

And yet… you were unbearably curious about how it would feel to wear one of your creations. You were occasionally hired to style a hopeful debutante, but you handed her off to a chaperone before she walked out through the front door of her own home. You witnessed all of the preparations and you had been party to the aftermath, but you had never had the opportunity to attend a ball.

It was a silly dream. You were the daughter of a tailor, and not one who served the upper echelons of London society. Your mother spent her time running the household herself - a necessity, as your family could not afford to keep servants. Your brother worked at a newspaper, operating the printing presses. Your sister had married well, wedding a butcher who lived above his shop in a respectable section of the city.

You had already achieved one silly dream when you had opened your own shop. Rather than satisfying you, that achievement only convinced you that you were capable of incredible things. Why should a ball be the exception?

Fortunately, the ton was an uninspired thing and thus wholly predictable. At least once every season, at least one family believed themselves to be the most creative souls and hosted a masquerade.

Your ability to foresee the trend had allowed you to plan far in advance. After the last season had ended and you made your purchases, you had bought just enough fabric to fashion yourself a dress. The material was simple, but of high quality, and you had embroidered beading and embellishment enough to allot the finished product an artistic simplicity rather than leaving it painfully plain.

The mask you had chosen only assisted the illusion of being understatedly gilded. It was a shining silver - not a true metallic mask, but a close enough facsimile that it seemed to be a choice due to the weight rather than the price of the silver. There was a delicate tracery over your brow and along the swells where the mask arched over your cheekbones.

The effect of the outfit was far from dramatic, especially when you very well knew the sort of dresses that the young ladies of the ton would be wearing at the ball, but you had been purposeful about it. You were trying to fade into the background, and it seemed likely that you would succeed.

One of your more clever ideas had been to cut the dress as a matronly garment rather than a daring one meant for a debutante. Doing so would relegate you to the realm of mamas, chaperones, and spinsters. Few bothered to steal a second glance at that foreboding cloud of judgment, disapproval, and eager plotting. You were too pragmatic to think your plan foolproof, but you had taken as many precautions as you could imagine.

The Lawsons had been the ones to secure a masquerade theme for the season, and you strategically arrived at the home at eleven, a full hour after the ball had begun. It was a simple thing to slip around the corner of the great manor house, entering through a side corridor. When you passed any of the house’s servants, you ducked your head and nervously arranged your hair.

With that attitude and countenance, they would likely believe you were returning from some secret tryst in a private place, not attempting to sneak in entirely. Servants were paid for their discretion - at least, in the eyes of the ton - so your exploits would not be disseminated until the following morning at the earliest.

Your matron-styled dress allowed for a more flexible corset than the most fashionable styles, but you still found that your breath was short as you reached the ballroom. You were thankful for the music, as it gave you a better idea of where your ultimate goal was.

The room was cavernous, yet filled to the brim with intricate details. A second-story balcony curved around the majority of the room, rather like the opera house you’d had the privilege to visit once. A grand staircase descended from the middle of that balcony, and it was full of still-arriving debutantes and their chaperones.

The orchestra was sat on the balcony along either side of the staircase, and you noted the way each instrument seemed to take precedence in turn as you walked along the length of the floor. They were playing a quadrille at the moment, and the dancing couples seemed as enamored by the music as much as by each other.

Above and all around, candles glowed and flickered, casting small pools of light across every surface. A chandelier hung overhead, eye-catching in its size and brightness. The crystals set among the candles sent tiny reflected rainbows dancing across the crowd beneath. The reflectors behind the candles on the main floor helped catch the brightness that would otherwise be wasted on the walls, throwing it out into the room until it looked near daylight. The effect was multiplied by an array of mirrors set around the room, refracting both light and the furor of activity in the ballroom.

Conversations filled any spaces left in the music. Everywhere, men and women chatted, laughed, and told stories. They were eye-catching with their grand gestures, only made more fascinating with their ornate clothing. You longed for a scrap of paper so you could make note of the styles of this season, and how they might be adapted to meet the styles of the next.

A table at one side of the room was manned by a servant offering refreshments. You knew from the stories you had heard that a supper would be served at one, but there were beverages for any guest or dancer who may need one. You accepted a glass of iced punch with a grateful nod to the servant. It was remarkably hot in the room, especially compared to the chill of the January evening.

Sipping the strong punch - and abruptly understanding the wisdom of such small glasses - you ventured forth to find a vantage point for observing the crowd.

You found one buried in the crowd of matrons and chaperones. They were watching the dance floor with great interest, speculating about matches and comparing notes on how the gentlemen and young ladies had been occupying themselves during the season thus far. It was the perfect location - a view of everything and in earshot of all the information you could possibly desire. Some of the information was likely to be nothing more than rumor, but you cared little. It was entertaining enough to compensate for a lack of veracity.

“Benedict!” one woman called. She was a handsome woman, dark hair perfectly coiffed to match her elegant dress. You recognized her even from behind as the widowed Lady Bridgerton.

A man separated from a group of other young men and approached, smiling expectantly. He bore a strong resemblance to Lady Bridgerton, and was wearing the simple black mask that seemed popular among the men of the ballroom. “Yes, Mother?”

“Do dance with Miss Harper this evening,” Lady Bridgerton instructed. “She needs cheering after the loss of her uncle. And she would be quite an excellent match for you.”

You wrinkled your nose. Arranged marriages were less common than they had been when you were a child, but the aristocracy still tended to take a heavy hand in deciding their children’s future spouses.

Unfortunately, the young Bridgerton glanced over his mother’s shoulder and took in your expression. You hurriedly glanced down at your glass, as if your face had been a reaction to the strong punch, then applied yourself to staring around the room.

“I will take that under advisement, Mother,” Benedict said. Your wayward glance prevented you from seeing his face, but his voice was filled with laughter. “If you’ll excuse me?”

He departed then, retreating back across the ballroom. However, you were far from unobservant, and you counted the multiple times he noted your position from among the group of laughing gentlemen. You did your utmost to ignore him, taking solace in the knowledge that your mask protected your identity from whatever scrutiny he may choose to apply.

You could hardly pretend surprise when you found him standing beside you scarcely an hour after you had overheard the conversation between Lady Bridgerton and her son. He was facing quite the opposite direction, but you could not fail to miss the way he inched closer every time you took a step away.

At long last, he bumped into you with his broad shoulder, sloshing your punch onto the floor and still refusing to acknowledge you.

“And to think Bridgertons are said to be well-mannered,” you snipped waspishly.

He glanced back at you, eyes bright. “I beg your pardon, miss. I did not see you. Allow me to fetch you a new glass of punch in recompense for my rudeness.”

“No, thank you,” you said, the coldness in your voice detracting from the politeness of your words. “I would not take the risk of another incident.”

“Did it stain your gown?” he asked, taking your elbow and looking you up and down. However solicitous it may have seemed at first, the mischief in his expression belied the gesture.

You glared at him until he dropped your arm. “You need not feign concern, Lord Bridgerton. You have apologized, I have accepted it, and my gown escaped the incident unscathed. There is no need to continue our acquaintance.”

With a final frown for good measure, you turned away. Benedict seemed undaunted, keeping step with you as you found a servant to take your near-empty glass.

“May I ask your name, then?” Benedict asked, for all the world like you had not dismissed him.

“Lady Sharp.”

It was a falsehood you had planned well in advance. The Sharps were one of the largest families in London, some branches so far-flung that no one seemed capable of remembering who was who.

Despite your confidence in your assumed identity, Benedict paused for a moment and your heart stuttered. At long last, he smiled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps if you continued to be short with him, Benedict would understand that he should leave you well enough alone.

And yet… The young Bridgerton continued to stay close as you watched the dancers, interrupting your overheard bits of gossip with remarks of his own. His commentary was amusing, but you continued to be irked by his presence. He was drawing attention by standing with the chaperones, dowagers, and doting mothers, and some of that attention was reflected onto you by virtue of proximity.

“You need not remain close as some form of apology, Lord Bridgerton,” you informed him at last. “You have more than adequately apologized for your earlier misstep, and I would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s scorn if you miss your dance with Miss Harper.”

Benedict shrugged. “Miss Harper is occupied well enough with other partners. It is my duty to see to it that every lady may dance if she chooses. Shall we?”

You frowned deeply, staring from his face to his proffered arm and back. “I do not dance.”

He paused at that. “Surely you are simply being modest…”

“I assure you, I mean what I say,” you told him, voice appalled, “I do not dance. If you feel a particular urge toward the dance floor, I urge you heed it and find a suitable partner before they have all been otherwise engaged.”

Benedict turned slightly, his gaze traveling from one end of the crowded ballroom to the other. When he had completed the visual circuit, he faced you, grinning engagingly once more. “I appreciate your concern, but I would rather continue our conversation.”

Your mouth fell inelegantly open. Thankfully, the room was called to attention before you could loose a scathing comment about your time together.

Lady Lawson stood at the bottom of her grand staircase, Lord Lawson standing attentively to her left. A servant you recognized as their butler announced in a booming - yet not abrasive - voice, “Lord and Lady Lawson invite you to adjourn to the dining rooms.”

To your dismay, the men and women of the ballroom paired together. The crowd moved steadily in the direction indicated by the butler.

Benedict offered his arm once more. “May I escort you to the dining room, Lady Sharp?”

You paused, frantically searching for a reason you might excuse yourself. If the Lawsons had arranged for their guests to sit in predetermined places, your presence would not only be marked, but commented upon and questioned. And yet, the gathered crowd meant that slipping away would be nigh impossible.

“Lady Sharp?” Benedict asked again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You are attending dinner, are you not?”

“Yes… yes, of course,” you said, immediately belied by your trembling voice. From a sheer lack of options, you accepted Benedict’s arm. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton.”

He inclined his head as if to silently acknowledge your thanks and steered you into the dining room.

Truly, there was far more than one room in which to dine. There seemed to be at least three hosting tables set with full arrays of silver plates and utensils. The dining areas seemed far less brightly lit than the ballroom was, the low lighting offering a soft intimacy that made the surrounding couples perk with excitement. Clearly, the flirtations of the dance floor would not be suspended due to a simple supper.

“May I help you find your seats, sir?”

You had been too entranced by your own thoughts - the sudden appearance of the servant made you start like a spooked horse. Benedict patted your hand. The gesture was a bit condescending, but you found it oddly soothing. Far more worrisome, however, was the sight of small name cards resting at every place setting on the tables.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he said. “I believe I was to be seated with my family a few tables behind you. This is Lady Sharp. I will dine with her this evening.”

“But sir…” The servant looked bemused, white brows drawing together. “Lady Lawson was informed that the Sharps would not be in London for this year’s season. Lady Sharp reported that Miss Rosalie Sharp was far too ill to be moved out of her confinement in the countryside.”

You stammered weak protests, but Benedict smoothly interrupted. “Surely Lady Lawson is aware that Lady Clara Sharp decided to winter in London this year. The physician said that a change of scenery would be good after leaving a confinement of her own.”

“A confinement of her-?” The servant shook his head. “My mistress said nothing of this when she was preparing the ball.”

You gathered your nerve. If your ruse were to fall apart, it would not be at the hand of an overly curious servant. You drew yourself up to your full height, giving your best steely-eyed, matronly disapproval. “I had assumed that my lack of an invitation was no more than an ignorant oversight. However, I begin to suspect that it was something far more intentional. Perhaps it would be best if I departed…”

“My apologies, Lady Sharp,” the servant hurried to say. “Please, allow me to find a place for you.”

You inclined your head in the shallowest nod you could muster, watching imperiously as he rushed off to find a place setting for the fictitious Lady Clara Sharp.

“These events are growing less organized by the day,” Benedict confided, shaking his head in mock despair.

The servant returned, sparing you the effort of inventing a response. “I will guide you to your seat, Lady Sharp. Lord Bridgerton, you requested your seat moved beside Lady Sharp’s, did you not?”

“Yes, I believe I should like to dine with Lady Sharp,” Benedict said amiably.

“Very good, sir,” the servant said. “This way.”

You did not particularly enjoy the tone with which Benedict said ‘Lady Sharp’. In his voice, it sounded less like a title and more like a private sort of jest.

Fortunately, your arrival in a far dining room provided a much-needed distraction. This was clearly the last table to have been filled, and as such was seated with an interesting amalgamation of people.

A timid-looking young lady sat nervously adjusting and readjusting the skirt of her dress. Her watchful chaperone eyed the process with fascination and concern. Seated at the chaperone’s other side was an older gentleman who seemed to have overindulged in punch, if you were to guess from his flushed face and exaggerated gestures.

On the other side of the table was a young man who kept glancing at the young lady and pretending that it had been accidental any time he was caught at it. Beside him were two place settings. From the lack of name cards above the plates, you assumed they were meant for you and Benedict.

Abruptly, a wave of vertigo washed over you. You had accomplished so much to be here, yet how many accomplishments were too many? It was as if you had climbed something terribly tall - every time you moved upward, it only left you with further to fall. And if you were to be discovered during this dinner? You would have very far to fall indeed.

“Are you well?” Benedict asked.

You blinked. The servant was holding your chair, waiting to help you be seated. You weren’t hungry in the least, but there was no way to excuse yourself that would not draw more attention than was wise. The only way to return to safety was to continue on as if nothing were amiss.

“Yes, thank you,” you demurred, moving to your seat.

When the skirt of your dress was safely tucked under the table, the servant offered a slight bow and moved away. The first course was laid out on the table, a manservant lingering nearby incase someone required a dish from a different part of the table.

“What may I tempt you with?” Benedict asked. His smile was a touch too wide for the question to be entirely innocent. Before you could say something harsh, he half-stood, fork extended toward a dish holding chilled cuts of meat.

You took a moment to study everything. “Roast chicken, please. And perhaps a few prawns.”

Benedict took your plate and began transferring the items you had requested. “Soup as well?”

“Perhaps a little.”

You eyed the women across the table. The young lady was picking delicately at a few scraps of meat and you were concerned by the quantity of the choices you had made, but her chaperone was tucking into a plate piled high.

Benedict placed your dishes back in front of you and gathered his own selections. When you were both seated again, you cut a piece of chicken and ate it as delicately as you could manage. It was delicious and you congratulated yourself once more on choosing to attend the ball dressed as a chaperone rather than a debutante.

“So, a Sharp in London,” Benedict mused. “I rather believed you all traveled together. Like a herd or a pack.”

You gave him an unamused look at the animal references. “And you pretended to know all of my family’s concerns when we were finding our seats. Do you always lie to achieve your own ends?”

He gave a wince, but it was decidedly playful. “‘Lie’ is such a harsh word, Lady Sharp. I simply choose the path most likely to lead to my destination and follow it.”

“By lying?”

“And I suppose you are a paragon of virtue?” he asked, and you fell silent. It would be rather paradoxical for you to blame him for a lie when you were currently lying to an entire ballroom of people.

“That was not an admonishment,” he clarified after a moment. “Nor was it a bid to halt our conversation. I was enjoying myself.”

“From what I have gathered of your temperament, I doubt you often suffer from the lack of enjoyment,” you snipped. “You seem to find infinite amusement in everything surrounding you.”

Benedict’s eyes widened. “I… am flattered, truly, that you’ve taken such pains to truly detail my character. Perhaps I should return the favor.”

“Do not.” You regretted the warning a moment after you had issued it. Rather than looking dissuaded, Benedict seemed intrigued.

“Indeed, I may be unable to help myself,” he mused. “Your motivations are fascinating, and they would be even more so if you turned out not to be Lady Sharp after all.”

“I am Lady Sharp,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Of course you are,” he agreed easily. “But imagine if you were not. Why would you pretend to be?”

Your mind halted abruptly when faced with the task of imagining your own motivations as if they belonged to another. What should you say? What could you say? For all of his casually friendly demeanor, Benedict was not stupid. It was possible that your false theories of your own motivations would provide him with proof that you were the very person you pretended to understand.

But still, the rules of polite conversation required that you provide some sort of an answer. Your voice was slow as you asked, “Who can begin to guess at the motivations of the poor?”

It was more harsh than you had imagined it would sound, but Benedict did not recoil. Instead, he replied, “Motivations are mysterious, those of the poor and the nobility alike.”

The answer was vague, but you understood why - his eyes were fixed on the young lady at the end of the table and the young man seated across from her.

“Miss Barrett, I found the most interesting flower in the park yesterday afternoon-” he started.

He had the young lady’s attention immediately, a shy smile on her thin face, but her chaperone pointedly cleared her throat before the young lady could reply. “Elisa, it is not proper for you to answer him without being formally introduced.”

“Finnie and I have been friends since before we could walk!” Elisa argued.

“His name is Lord Finlay Spencer,” the chaperone corrected. “And your childhood acquaintanceship does not matter. You have not been officially introduced in the time since he returned to London.”

The young pair fumed silently, with nothing more than frustrated glances shared between them.

“Lady Barrett,” Benedict said abruptly, drawing the attention of everyone who longed to be distracted from the tension. “I understand you are a most loyal patron of the arts. Is that so?”

“It is so, Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Barrett confirmed. “I believe in the importance of preserving artwork for years to come.”

“As do I.” Benedict smiled at her… and at the red-faced man seated to her right. “And our sentiments are shared by our companion, Lord Hopkins. He has recently donated a number of works to your preferred museum. I believe they are to name a wing in his honor.”

Lady Barrett turned to Lord Hopkins, an expression of mingled surprise and admiration. “I recently took in the Hopkins collection. Most impressive, Lord Hopkins.”

Lord Hopkins blinked rapidly, clearly attempting to gather himself. He made an admirable effort as he returned her smile. “You are too kind, Lady Barrett. I mourn the loss of those works, yet they were wasted with only my family to appreciate them. And, if you will pardon my directness, I believe I may have been the only one of the Hopkins family to truly appreciate them.”

“I am certain the Hopkins family has an interest in art ,” Lady Barrett demurred, “though I understand the sense that one has a keener appreciation for art than those around oneself.”

With such a topic brought up, the pair slipped into conversation. Lord Finlay Spencer and Lady Elisa Barrett cast grateful glances in Benedict’s direction and began to speak in softened tones to avoid drawing the attention of the elder Lady Barrett.

“Neatly done,” you complimented lowly. “Yet it prompts me to wonder how often you concern yourself in the affairs of others.”

Benedict shrugged. “I simply enjoy pulling strings to see what unravels. Perhaps that is why I find you so interesting.”

You arched your brows. “And precisely what string of mine do you believe yourself to be pulling?”

“That you are not Lady Sharp, of course.”

He took a sip of wine as you fought to control your expression, and his utter lack of concern was infuriating.

“Are we to continue this thought experiment, then?” you asked at last. “In truth, I am beginning to find it tiresome.”

“I do not need you to confirm my theory,” Benedict told you. “I have gathered proof enough of my own since we met.”

“Proof?” you asked, attempting to sound skeptical rather than afraid.

“You did not wait for an introduction, you claim not to dance, and you did not shyly simper away when I touched your arm,” he listed. “You are no more a lady than I.”

These arguments were presented without censure, but you loosed an inelegant snort regardless. It was foolish and you knew it, but you could not prevent yourself from showing your own powers of observation: “You are wearing a fine silk shirt, a perfectly pressed cravat, and more perfume than anyone else in the room. I am a lady, so it follows that you may be one as well.”

Benedict - unbelievably - grinned at your insults, his eyes crinkling at the edges. You fought not to return the expression, though you found it remarkably contagious. “I believe it is called ‘cologne’ when it is worn by a man. I confess, I’ve never quite understood the difference myself.”

“If you believe I am a fraud, why have you kept me company all evening?” you asked. It was not a confirmation of his suspicions, but it was close enough to make your heart race.

“You are interesting,” he countered. “Certainly the most interesting person here, and among the most interesting people I have ever met.”

You would have found a reason to cut the conversation short if Benedict had pressed for any further information, but he did not. Instead, you continued speaking plainly together through the remaining courses. He wanted to learn your opinions on all manner of things, from politics to the latest fashions.

When the time came to return to the dance floor, he stayed close. He was charming and amusing, but refused to be parted from your side. It could have been cloying, but you privately thought him akin to a particularly amiable sort of burr.

After a few dances had passed, Lady Bridgerton approached, nodding to you with an assessing sort of look. However, she spoke to her son rather than question you. You were grateful for the slight. “Benedict, I believe I asked you to dance with Miss Harper.”

“You did, Mother,” Benedict agreed, “but Lady Sharp and I are speaking of important matters. I could not possibly tear myself away.”

Lady Bridgerton gave him a look filled with motherly disapproval and you cleared your throat. “Lord Bridgerton, we may speak at another time. The number of dances at this ball is limited and the hour grows late. I fear Miss Harper will be fully occupied if you delay longer.”

Lady Bridgerton turned, triumphant, to her son. Benedict sighed and bowed shallowly in your direction. “I beg your pardon, Lady Sharp. I look forward to continuing our conversation after this dance.”

He wove his way through the crowd, presumably in the direction of Miss Harper. Lady Bridgerton remained by your side, and you glanced at her in the silence. She met your gaze, tilting her head curiously in a manner that reminded you of her son. “I do not believe we have met, Lady Sharp. I am Lady Violet Bridgerton.”

You returned her nod with one of your own. “Lady Clara Sharp. Lovely to meet you.”

“I was unaware that any of the Sharp family were in London this season-” she started. Thankfully, she was interrupted by the arrival of a dark-haired young lady.

“Mama, I need to speak with you-”

“Eloise, I am not-”

“Mama, please!” the girl insisted, tugging at her mother’s elbow. Lady Bridgerton studied you for another moment before giving an apologetic smile and allowing her daughter to pull her away.

As cues went, it was a fairly clear one. You steadily worked your way through the crowd until you could slip into an unguarded hall. From there, it was a simple thing to leave the Lawson house, find the cloak you had stored in a disused shed, and travel back to your shop.

When you had removed the mask and the dress, you took careful stock of the evening. The dress and mask would need to be destroyed, and you regretted not bidding a true farewell to Benedict Bridgerton, but you considered the endeavor a success.

One that could never be repeated.

---

Author's Note - As usual with Fanfic February fics, this is a two-parter. Tomorrow's chapter will have spice in it, so please be warned.

Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 4

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Family dynamics that contain debating as a method of communication, heavy familial expectations, changing relationships, talk of pregnancy and childbirth. Summary: A family dinner at the White House, a meddling best friend, and the mysterious case of the missing Congressman. Notes: Shout out to Keri for making me unexpectedly bawl about three-quarters of the way into this chapter. Thanks for that, babe. As usual, sorry for an errors I might have missed and thanks for reading!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

It isn’t unusual for a family to sit down to dinner together during the week. If you’re a busy family, living scattered about in different places, even a once-a-week dinner is worth scheduling. But when you’re the First Family, it gets a little complicated. The food is always amazing. That isn’t up for debate. And it is nice to actually see your mother when she isn’t surrounded by a swarm of staff or on a television screen. Alex and June are great too, when they aren’t being absolute pains in the asses. The only thing you’re hoping is that no one asks you about Sam at dinner tonight.

Family dinners always occur in the residence, around the long wooden table that is a substitute for the one you had grown up sitting around. No press, no phones at the table and the only interruptions that are allowed during this time is a matter of national crisis. Everything else can wait. It's why your mother is a successful politician while balancing her family, she gives everything its proper time. "So a little birdy told me that your inn is booked solid for the next few weeks." She looks over at you with a proud smile, aware that you work incredibly hard to make your vision, your dream, a success.

“Through April.” You nod, finishing a bite of food. The White House chef takes his chicken Marsala very seriously and it’s so good that you can’t get enough of it. “It never fails. People are always excited to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Will you still be able to attend the State dinner?” Although it was more a mandatory invitation, she would understand if you couldn’t break away. After all, she has a very demanding job as well.

“Of course.” Not aware that you had had any choice in the matter, you get smirked half-glances from your siblings that tell you they would try to get out too, if they could. “Although…I do have a question about that.”

She looks up from cutting her chicken, your father looking up from his glass of wine curiously. “What is that?”

“I know that it’s only a week away, so I am not asking for anything besides clarification.” Something about your parents’ reaction makes you feel like you need to say that out loud. Otherwise you might be up for one of your family’s famously endless debates. “Has the seating arrangement already been done so that all of us,” you motion to yourself and your two younger siblings. “Have a plus one?”

“Of course.” Your father has been the one handling the details of the State dinner and has meticulously planned the family seating arrangement. “Why?”

“Just double-checking. It’s the first State dinner, after all. I just want to make sure it goes smoothly.” It doesn’t matter that you were desperately hoping he would say no, or instantly offer to rearrange the seating chart if needed, or literally anything else that would get you out of having to have an uncomfortable conversation with Sam after barely talking to him at all the last few days. Maybe you could ask Juan to…Nope. There’s a rehearsal dinner at the inn that night. Shit.

“Good.” He smiles and gives you a knowing look. “I did not place Sam and you near too many political adversaries.” He snorts. “He won’t spend the entire night in a debate.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Dad. Thanks.” There is a solid chance Sam would prefer that over the stony silence between the two of you, but you can’t say that. Not with your mother at the table. It will turn into a full-blown debate over what has gone wrong in your relationship and how to fix it, and you don’t need your meddling siblings to have that kind of ammunition on you. “So,” you turn to them instead. “Alex? Junie? You guys have dates?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m bringing Dave, since he wants to go into law school.” He huffs. “He wants to intern with one of the senators.” Junie just shrugs. “Not yet.” She murmurs, bored by the idea of the dinner at all.

“Dave gets to come to a State dinner?” Your brother and his boyfriend generally keep things under wraps, and it works well since they’ve been best friends since they were kids. Like the gay male version of you and Sydney except they became a couple. “That’s sweet, Al. Maybe he’ll actually get you to behave yourself.”

“Never.” He flashes you a grin, making your mother huff in exasperation and amusement.

“No potential guest on the horizon for you, Junebug?” Your father asks, looking to his youngest child on the other end of the table.

“I’m either going to have someone want to go so they can rub elbows with politicians and brag they went to the State dinner, or be completely bored out of their minds.” She shrugs. “So I don’t know if I want to ask anyone.”

“Is that even an option?” You’re really trying not to make it sounds like you’re hoping for a yes, but you are. To be told you can go solo would solve every single one of your problems at the moment.

“We cannot have empty chairs.” Your father shakes his head. “Junie, if you don’t pick someone, we will have to find a filler.”

“Do you want me to ask Dave to bring his brother?” Alex offers, always only helpful to the baby of the family. “Noah can dance, doesn’t care about politics, and you can bitch about college the whole time of you want.”

“Please?” Her eyes turn hopeful and she knows that will be better than some filler guest.

“You got it.” Alex grins and flashes that thousand watt smile at your parents. “See? Problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Your father looks relieved and your mother gives him a smile before cutting into her chicken again. “Happy to have that settled.” She hums.

Settled. Ugh. If you weren’t about to turn thirty, you would be pouting at the table. Instead you let discussion float by, as your father double checks that all three of you have your White House approved outfits for the night and you’ve managed to memorize all the facts and statistics on the Spanish royal family that were handed out by your mother’s staff.

The dinner moves on to dinner dessert and the dinner plates are changed for wonderful pots of chocolate lava cake, a back up dessert for the State dinner for anyone with a gluten intolerance or nut allergy.

“This is amaaazing.” June groans, ever the chocolate fanatic.

“It is delicious.” Your mother agrees. “Rich.” She looks over at your father. “You said this was gluten free?”

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” He laughed like he’s got some trick up his sleeve but he’s really just pleased. “Apparently this is one of the easier cakes to do with alternative flours.”

“Perfect.” She might be President of the United States, but she and your father were a team. “You did wonderful finding an alternative, honey.”

“You like the orange sauce with it?” Everyone’s anxieties are high for this first occasion and your father wants everything to be perfect.

“Perhaps offer a raspberry or strawberry?” She suggests, looking around the table for everyone’s opinions. “What do you all think? In addition?”

“It’s a little sweet,” you admit, hating to ever disappoint your father. But there is a reason you all have so many round table discussions in your family. “Maybe blood orange would offset the sweetness a little? And be a little more luxurious?”

“Ohhhh blood orange would be amazing.” Alex chimes in, nodding in agreement. “Balance the sweetness of the chocolate.”

“Oh my god yes,” June groans, already having mostly inhaled her lava cake and furtively peaking to see if either you or Alex is going to be willing to give yours up.

Alex snorts when he sees that beseeching look on his younger sister’s face and slides his lava cake towards her.

“This is what you should have for your birthday.” Junie tells you emphatically, digging in to what’s left of your brother’s dessert. “No question.”

“Why? So you can eat all of it?” Your brother snorts. “But-“ he looks back over at you. “What are you having at your party?”

"I honestly haven't thought about it." There's still a month left until your birthday so it hadn't even crossed your mind yet. "Maybe I'll just go to a Nationals game if I can get away from work. Who knows?"

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t do that.” Your mother huffs slightly and shakes her head. “Go to a Nationals game, sure. But you need to have a party.”

"Why?" It sort of feels like whining this time, but you have to wonder what her logic is. "Because I'm one of the First Kids? Because I'm turning 30?"

“Because you deserve a party where others cater to your wants and is about you? Celebrating my oldest baby’s birthday.” She implores, expression soft and loving.

If there is one thing your mother is annoyingly good at it, it's showering love on her children despite being busy. No birthday ever went by without acknowledgement. No success uncelebrated. No set back unconquered. "So does that mean you and Dad are going to throw it and all I have to do is show up?" It's highly unlikely considering how busy they are, but you have to try, right?

“Absolutely.” Her grin is positively smug, like you have fallen into her trap, which - you have. “Of course, we are not going to have it at the White House.” She rolls her eyes slightly. “But you just pretend it will be a surprise. I’ll let Sam know where to bring you.”

"I can't know where to go myself?" Since there's a chance Sam won't even be in the picture in a few weeks, you would rather just have her tell you. "And please don't make it some big, formal thing? If I get told to wear an evening gown to my birthday, I'm not showing up."

“Nothing formal.” She promises. “No ballgown, but a nice dress.” She compromises, tilting her head. “For pictures? Not official ones, of course.”

Regular negotiations with the President should make you eligible for some kind of ambassador position even as her daughter, and you tilt your head at your mother before making a full agreement. "Cocktail attire maximum, the music cannot be described as orchestral anything, and the fancier the venue is, the lower class the food has to be. Those are my conditions."

“Finger foods inside of an upscale tavern?” She poses, smirking slightly at the way you negotiate with her. Out of all the children, you are the closest to her personality, even if you don’t see it. “With specially crafted cocktails to celebrate your birthday? And a playlist composed of your favorites songs from each year?”

"I'll build a core list for the music. Because I don't trust Alex not to sneak Cotton Eye Joe or something into the mix." Like any good wheeling-and-dealing adult child, you have to get just one more compromise in there before sealing the deal. "And I will provide you with a list of friends I'd like invited outside of the normal group. Obviously I know you'll give the information to Sydney, Anna Leigh, and Issy."

“Deal.” She nods and looks very pleased with the situation. “Honey, I will plan this.” She promises, reaching out and patting the back of your father’s hand. “I want to plan it.”

"Along with running the free world, she's also a party planner." Your brother snorts, always ready to tease. "You know you can just hire Juan to do it, Mom."

“No.” She snorts and blows a raspberry at your brother. “It’s my baby’s birthday. I want to plan the perfect party to ring in thirty.”

"And somehow Birdie still doesn't get that she's the favorite." June laughs, throwing you a smirk before she rolls her eyes playfully at Alex.

“Now you know that is not true.” Your mother protests, rolling her eyes. “I love all of you equally.”

"Yes, Mother." Alex and June chime in unison, making all of you break into laughter at the same time around the table.

“Managing you kids is almost harder than running the country.” She grumbles, even though she’s grinning.

"We just wanted you to have a lot of practice before you got to the White House." You assure her, still laughing with your siblings. "Because being Governor of Pennsylvania was definitely not enough. Your children are the real test."

“Yes they are.” She agrees, laughing with all of you and your father. The truth was, she has incredible children that she’s proud of beyond measure. Often she tells the world that her best accomplishment has been raising the three of you and it’s not line to appeal to her core voters, she truly believes that.

"So, I have a logistical question." Satisfied temporarily with the amount of chocolate consumed in one dinner, June sits back in her chair with her glass of iced tea and proves once more than kids take more corralling than countries. "If the State dinner is next Saturday, does that count as family dinner?

Your father rolls his eyes and sighs while your mom narrows her eyes in thought and looks towards her husband for his thoughts. “What do you think, honey?”

"The purpose of Friday night dinners is to have a chance to sit down together as a family and catch up. Enjoy each other's company. Celebrate the week's small wins." It's what they had agreed on years ago when this tradition had been born. "So by that logic, I would say no. Since we won't be sitting around enjoying each other's company while the king and queen of Spain are visiting." He narrows his eyes though, in a way that definitely speaks to how long your parents have been together. They have identical expressions right now. "Why, Junebug? Did you make other plans?"

“I—” she falters for a moment and then shrugs. “There’s a party I wanted to go to, but I don’t have to go if my presence is required.”

Your parents exchange a glance, that decades-long nonverbal communication at work for not the first time today. "Why don't we have dinner a little earlier?" You father offers. Compromise is always the name of the game in the First Family. "If we have dinner at six instead of seven that night, will that give you enough time, kiddo?"

A partial victory counts, so she nods. "That would work. It would give me plenty of time to be annoyed at my security detail."

"Sounds like a plan." Your mother smirks, relieved to see that none of her children have tried to give their agents the slip yet. She had expected it from June, if she's honest. She's definitely the most independent and the most rebellious.

"Wish we didn't have to have them." She pout slightly, even though she had known this was part of the deal. She hadn't expected it to chafe so much though, if she was honest. She have been very innocent in believing they would just a vague shadow.

"I'd rather have you annoyed by their presence and be safe, than let you go without them and have something happen to any of you." It's non-negotiable, you all know that, and your mother is frankly very glad that it comes with the office. Trying to make sure all three of you are safe without the Secret Service? No way.

"I know." She doesn't have to be happy about it though. "I just— wish the world didn't suck so badly sometimes." She murmurs quietly.

"Here here." Alex nods, knowing that all the different ways the world sucks have affected him in ways the rest of the family hasn't experienced on their own. Everyone may tout their belief in soulmates loudly, but he can't even go out and hold his soulmate's hand without risk. If anything, he's grateful for the Secret Service agents that have been assigned to make sure he stays safe.

"I know that you are disappointed that I haven't been able to push through the soulmate resolution yet." Your mother is addressing Alex, but she shoots him a reassuring look. "But I know that it is close." She looks towards you. "Sam has been a strong voice in the fight to approving the resolution." She praises. "You should be very proud of him."

Mom, you’ve only been in office a month. No one at this table expects you to work miracles.” You steadily ignore the remark about Sam, feeling like your blood pressure is rising a little every time he gets mentioned tonight. “The Resolution is a really good piece of legislation and it’s only a matter of time before it gets passed.” Looking to your brother, though, you offer him the proudest smile you can manage. “And then this pain in the ass can have the White House’s first ever gay wedding. One for the history books.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He huffs. “I don’t want a stuffy White House wedding where I have to invite every dignitary I know. I’ll leave that to you.” He hums with a smirk.

“I’m not getting married anytime soon so what does it matter?” An awful lot of people have been very invested in your future lately and it’s grinding on you to the point where you shoot back a reply without even thinking of it.

Your father’s brow shoots up, surprised at the tone you had used and he glances at your mother, a silent look passing between them.

The silence at the table is ringing, and you put down your wine glass as delicately as you can manage. “What?” You ask, looking around the table but not willing to apologize for being cranky. “I’m not engaged, am I? It could be years before I settle down.”

"Nothing." Your mother shakes her head and smiles at you. "Things will happen in their own time." She councils softly. "You don't have to adhere to anyone's timeline but your own."

“Right.” The best you can do is sit back and have the decency to look a little sheepish, but you can feel the question marks in the eyes of your family members all watching you. It is massively uncomfortable at best.

"Okay." Alex senses something is wrong with you, that you want the subject to change so he claps his hands. "So, I have a question." He recaptures his parents attention. "Do we have to dance at the State dinner?" He asks seriously. "Because you know Dave has two left feet and I can't be embarrassed like that."

“You can dance with your sisters,” your father offers, sensing the same thing as his son. “Or with your mother, or the queen? Or any of the young men there, if you want to end up above the fold of the Washington Post.” It’s purely teasing, of course, since anyone who knows Alex knows he is only in the closet publicly.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Nahhhhhh." He waves away the idea. "I don't want to have to hire a PR manager this early in my life." He jokes. "It would drain my savings."

"I guess we'll all behave ourselves." June observes with a wry smile.

"That would be extremely appreciated." Your mother hums, smiling at all of you. "I know you all have busy schedules, but I am so glad we can still get together."

It's Sunday before the dress arrives at the inn for the State dinner, and you and Sydney were enjoying a rare afternoon off together when Malachi lead the worried-looking White House staffer around to the back porch of the inn to let them hand it over to you in person. Sending them off again with your thanks, you push out a sigh. "I haven't heard from Sam in almost a week," you admit when your best friend fixes you with an inquisitive expression.

"Have you reached out to him?" Sydney asks, frowning as she holds the passion fruit tea she has been obsessed with over the last few days. "He might be embarrassed and unsure of how he will be received?"

"I sent him a text yesterday asking if we were still on for our plans tonight, but...nothing so far." Making plans ahead of time had been a definite strength for the two of you before now. But since Valentine's Day? Communication has been non-existent.

"Have you tried his office?" It's not like Sam to just blow you off, so she wonders if he's been caught up in meetings.

"I—" You blow out another breath. One that feels like defeat. "I'm afraid of calling and having Vanessa pick up," you admit. It feels stupid but you can't help it. "The idea that she could be feeling chatty and say something about Marcus just...I know that's stupid."

"Have you tried to text Marcus?" That's the next question is the most obvious one to take the conversation. If you aren't in contact with Marcus or he hasn't responded to you, that could be why you are feeling like a duck out of water.

"No." That idea makes you shake your head sternly and reach for your drink. The covered porch and little space heater is nice for sitting in the sunniest hours of the day, but you still made yourself a cup of hot coffee to sip while you sat with Sydney. "No...I mean...he probably hates me by now."

"I don't think he would hate you." She's already making an note to have Juan reach out to Pike himself. Maybe take him out for a beer and feel him out on the situation. "You cancelled a causal invite to dinner, you didn't cancel taking him to the State dinner."

"I can't even think about the dinner." Your fingers drum on the box beside you, knowing the dress inside is beautiful but not wanting to face the reality of how uncomfortable the night will be. "If I don't have a date I have to tell my father as soon as possible and I'll get stuck with a million questions and a seat filler."

"Then you need to call Sam." She huffs. "Even if he's fuming at you, I doubt he would miss the State dinner."

"I know, I know, I know you're right." But you don't really want to call him. If it's been almost a week and he's effectively ghosted you? That seems like a pretty clear signal to you.

"Babe....you need closure." The bags under your eyes aren't doing you any good, despite the sleepy time tea that she had been sending to you. "If you are ending things with him, you need to be an adult about it."

"Ugh." You groan, letting your head tip back so the sound drags out dramatically. "Stop making sense and giving good advice, it's interfering with my denial and the reconstruction of my emotional walls."

She laughs, although it's not really funny. She knows where you and it's a shitty place to be. Sighing softly, she picks up your phone and holds it out to you.

"I hate you." Even muttered good naturedly, you still snag your phone from her hand and clutch your coffee mug like a security blanket. Sam's office number is programed into your phone and you squeak with combined fear and frustration as the call connects and begins to ring.

"Congressman Chase's office." Vanessa's voice comes over the line cheerfully and professionally. "How may I be of assistance today?"

Don't be a coward, you remind yourself sternly, as soon as you hear her voice. "Hi Vanessa." Saying your name clearly eliminates any assumption that his staff might recognize your voice, even though you know a few people absolutely do. Some of his staffers like to chat to you while you wait for Sam to come to the phone when you call his office. "Is Sam available?"

Her use of your last name is merely one of respect, choosing to keep things professional with the Congressman's girlfriend. Slightly confused because you are calling for him at the office. "Did he not tell you?" She asks, her voice lower than the usual chipper tone.

"Apparently not." There is no way you're going to fess up that Sam hasn't spoken to you in days, or returned even so much as a text message. Now you're concerned something might be going on.

"The Congressman has been sick all week." She only knows how bad it is because he had spend the first few days trying to work through it. "He has pneumonia." She huffs quietly. "He's been barely reachable but I had though the would have at least let you know."

He's sick. You barely manage to swallow a sigh of relief at that news, and only because you know how inappropriate that would sound to his aide. "I hadn't heard the official diagnosis." It's as smooth a lie as you can muster at the moment, and you cling to your warm mug all the harder. He's sick. That's why he hasn't called. "Thank you, Vanessa."

"Of course." She's confused, but she also knows that the medication the doctor had prescribed him was to help him rest since he had been trying to push himself. "Anytime."

The groan of relief comes only after you disconnect the call, and you deflate into yourself in your chair. "He's sick," you tell Sydney with a groan. The heel of one hand digs into your closed eye like you're trying to banish a headache but it's really just that you feel the pressure releasing from your mind. "He has pneumonia. He's been out since the beginning of the week."

"Okaaaaay." Surprising, but honestly, it's not? Considering it's Sam and he's pretty direct about things. It's one of those traits that Sydney admires about him. "That's a very valid reason for not texting or calling." She admits. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I'm not thrilled that he's sick, but I'm very relieved that he didn't just ghost me. He sleeps like a rock around the clock when he's sick, so he's probably just passed out at home." The one other time you had seen him with a cold was several months ago, and it seemed like he had slept for three days straight before springing back up on his feet like nothing had happened.

"He didn't just ghost you." She grins at you, even though you are still conflicted about Sam, the fact that you are relieved by this means there's something there. "Do you want me to whip him up some chicken noodle soup to drop at his doorstep?"

"Do you want to go upstairs?" When the two of you actually get the chance to cook together it's always fun, and this sounds like the perfect opportunity. You didn't have a dinner plan anyway. Chicken noodle soup for two is easy enough. "I did my grocery shopping this morning so I know I have everything. And..." you pat the dress box beside you. "I should hang this up. I don't think velvet wrinkles but I still don't want to take a chance."

"Absolutely." She sends you a smile, happy that you look relieved and like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "We will have Congressman Chase cured with our famous chicken noodle soup in no time."

Juan had taken the afternoon to go for a ride around the Virginia backroads so it's just you girls right now and that sounds pretty perfect. You gather up your things and nab Agent Bailey, heading upstairs to get to work and try to ease your mind a little. "I do still have a problem," you point out, when the elevator hits the top floor.

"What's that?" Sydney frowns, looking at the screen that shows the floor you are on. She really hates elevators, but this helps her mitigate that fear that the damn thing would plunge into the basement like all those action movies she had watched as a kid.

The doors slide open and you let her out first, stepping up behind her to unlock the door and let the three of you inside. "Now I definitely need to find a new date for the State dinner."

"Oh shit." Sam can't attend the State dinner with pneumonia, it would be too great of a risk. "Well, I can have Juan escort you." She had plans to have dinner with her parents and reveal the name they had chosen, but this was important and she could reschedule.

"Honey, no." She's been excited about the dinner with her parents for a week already and it wouldn't be fair to take Juan away from that. "You guys have family plans and I'm not going to ruin that. I'll just...think of someone else."

"Malachi?" She offers. "He would look good in a tuxedo."

For a split second you get excited about the idea, but you sink again as you readjust the dress box on your hip. "I need him here that night." You tell her, groaning about it. "We have that six-person reservation that needs a translator. Malachi is the only one on staff who speaks Hindi fluently."

"Fuck." The fact is there aren't a lot of men that can just be called up last minute to look good in a suit and be cleared to be in a roomful of the world's top dignitaries. Unless... "I have an idea and you're going to hate it." She promises as you open the door to your apartment. "Give me your phone."

"I trust you with my life but I do not like that tone in your voice." Still, you hand over your phone with confusion on your face and start to unpack the burgundy velvet evening gown that was altered to fit you perfectly. "Please don't call any of my exes."

"I am not calling any of your exes." She promises you, opening the phone with a code and opening your phone book. It's easy to find the number that she is looking for, because you are a stickler for putting numbers in properly and hits call, changing the phone to speaker so you can hear it ring.

The call rings three times before it connects, and even if Sydney hadn't been angling the phone away from you so that you couldn't see the name, you're pulling the dress out of the box when you hear the unmistakable "Hello?" on the other end.

Suddenly you're standing straight up and glaring at your best friend – your former best friend – for this ultimate betrayal. "Marcus." Your voice cracks when you say his name and you just want the floor to open and swallow you up. "Hi. How— how are you?"

"Oh, hi." It's obvious that he's confused as to why you are calling him on a Sunday, but he doesn't hang up the phone. "I'm good, how are you?" He asks politely, actually sounding like he is interested in the answer.

"I..." You sink down on your bed, letting Sydney continue to hold your phone, and hug the dress to your chest. "I'm calling for a couple of reasons," you decide. Now that you've been confronted with this phone call, it all sort of comes tumbling out. "I wanted to apologize, first. For being vague on rescheduling our Indian dinner last weekend, and then taking off like the Wicked Witch was after me when I saw you the other morning. I've...it's been a weird week. And that was rude of me. So I apologize."

“I understand.” Marcus gives a rueful chuckle. “I’ve had a bit of a weird one myself. My phone has been broken three different times in the past week alone.” He snorts. “And half my contacts and messages have been unrecoverable according to the techs at the store.” He sighs. “So if you send me a message or something and I didn’t answer, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

The I told you so look on Syd's face causes you to throw a pillow at her and you shake your head as though he was in the room with you instead of over the phone. "I texted you once about rescheduling dinner,' you admit. "But...I have a slightly different suggestion, if...if you want to hear it? And I would consider it an enormous favor."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to decline, but he is curious to hear what this favor is. “Hit me.” He tells you with a slight chuckle. “But not too hard. I have to work tomorrow.”

"I promise I'm not capable of punching through a cell phone." It's easy to talk to him. So easy. And it lulls you into a momentary false sense of security as you sit back on your bed. "But...I have a plus one to a State dinner for the Spanish royal family on Saturday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party at the White House?" It's such an insane thing to ask a person that you almost feel like it's an out of body experience, but there it is. It's out in the open. There's no taking it back now.

“I-“ Of all the questions he tries to anticipate, that was not it. He frowns slightly, wondering about the congressman, until he remember that Vanessa had said he was sick with pneumonia. It’s likely him being sick has put you into a frenzy to find someone to go. Not the reason he would like to have dinner with you, but he wants to view you as a friend and this will be a friendly, public event. “Sounds like I need to get my tuxedo to the cleaners.”

"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver." The air whooshes out of you all at once and you fall back onto your bed with a gigantic sigh. "I will come and pick you up myself, the food is going to be amazing, and you can rag on me with my pain-in-the-ass siblings all night. I can't say how grateful I am, Marcus. Really. Thank you so much."

“It’s a honor that you even considered me to escort you” Marcus tells you truthfully. “I’ll be exited to go and I promise to keep the ragging to a minimum.”

"You've earned the right, I promise." You blow out another breath and manage to sit up but solidly ignore the smug look on your best friend's face. "I'll text you the details, if that's okay? Is your phone situation all worked out?"

He laughs quietly. “Hopefully so. All I know is that it is never a good idea to set your phone on the roof of the car when the rookie is driving.” Marcus snorts. “If I don’t get a message by tomorrow, I’ll call you. Sound good?”

"Sounds perfect." Quiet for a second, you take your phone out of Sydney's hand and smile, the smallest twitch of the thing in the corners of your mouth. "Thank you, Marcus. I owe you, but I promise we'll have fun."

“Don’t even worry about it.” He promises. “Well, I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, okay?” He asks. “And tell Sam to feel better.”

"I will." Passing that message along might be slightly strained, but it's the thought that counts. Thanking him again, you press the red button on your phone screen to end the call and groan so loudly that Agent Bailey sticks her head into the room just to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "I can't believe you did that!" You squawk, throwing a second pillow at Sydney. This one hits her square in the shoulder where the first one missed.

“But tell me it wasn’t worth it?” She challenges, throwing the pillow back at you. “You have a date for the State dinner and you learned that he wasn’t ignoring you either.” She folds her arms over her chest and looks at you with a smug smile. “Come on, what other problems do we need to solve? World hunger?”

"Go to Friday night dinner in my place if you want to work on global issues." You snark playfully. The fact is, you know she's right. Annoyingly so, actually, and right now you're still processing.

“Maybe now you will get some sleep.” She huffs, still smug that everything was working out. “You’ve got a dress, a date and I’ll even have one of the wedding stylists that owes me a favor come do your hair and makeup.” She hums. “I made a special dinner for her and her boyfriend for Valentine’s.” She explains.

"What are you, the Romance Fairy?" Dragging yourself off the bed, you carry the dress over to your closet and carefully hang it up where nothing bad could ever touch it. The garment bag that it's in will help make sure of that. "Come on, we have soup to make."

She doesn’t mention that the State dinner isn’t supposed to be romantic. She just grins and follows you. “Yes ma’am, Hummingbird, ma’am.”

"Oh god, don't call me that around him." This, in particular, is an incredibly stern warning. At this point you're just grateful that the Secret Service use your callsign quietly enough that they're not overheard when they say it. "I'll die of embarrassment."

“I won’t.” She promises, aware that you aren’t quite ready to address that particular issue.

“I just don’t even want to think about that.” You don’t want to, but you have been. Rather constantly, which is a growing issue.

“Let’s just get you through the State dinner and your birthday.” Syd suggests. “Then you can let that big brain of yours work overtime on non-issues.”

Throwing Sydney a look of dismay over the last of your coffee, you pout animatedly. “I debated terms of my birthday with my mother at the last dinner.”

“And?” Sydney almost laughs at your look and turns away to start rummaging through your fridge for the ingredients for the soup. “What was negotiated?”

“Cocktail. High end pub, finger foods and a DJ.” You shake your head and huff a sigh. “I said I should just go to a ball game, but that was unacceptable.”

“It’s hard to run security for the president at a stadium.” She reminds you. “And your mom would want to be there.”

“I just…” Looking back at Sydney, you cross your arms and shrug. “I don’t think I have all that much to celebrate this year, I guess.”

“You have a lot to celebrate.” Your friend will always hype you up and she does so now. “You have your health, a successful business with your best friend.” She cheeses playfully at you. “Your mother is the president of the United States and….” She shrugs. “You’ve hit your dirty thirties. We have to celebrate.”

“I can’t exactly have dirty thirties when my mother is the president.” You throw your arms around her again and squeeze her shoulders, grateful for every second you have Sydney by your side. You’ve been each other’s ride or die since first grade and that will never change. “And you’re pregnant, so you already got dirty.”

“I did.” She snorts with a wicked grin. “And I enjoyed every second of it, too.”

“Perv.” You really can’t help but tease her, but it’s purely out of affection. “It’s just because you’ve got your super sexy soulmate. The Triple S is undeniable.”

“He is sexy.” She can’t deny that, grinning wickedly as she rubs her stomach. “And getting sexier. Did I tell you he’s starting to get sympathy cravings? Dad bod mode is close.”

“Your wildest dreams are all about to come true.” The two of you giggle together as you start to pull ingredients out of the fridge, getting started on cooking that batch of soup.

“So, do you feel better now?” Sydney asks, organizing the vegetables and opening the drawer for the carrot peeler. She had helped you set up the kitchen to her specifications so she could easily find what she wanted when she cooked here.

“A little.” It’s relief more than anything, as you start to peel fresh ginger. It’s the secret ingredient to your best ever chicken noodle soup. “And then I feel guilty for it, which is fucked up. Like I think Marcus might actually enjoy himself on Saturday just for the bragging rights and then I immediately feel bad for thinking that.”

“Why do you feel bad?” She cocks her head as she peels the outer layer off the crisp, orange carrots. “I think most people will enjoy themselves just for bragging rights, it’s brag worthy.”

“Promise you won’t judge me and promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Juan.” Holding your pinky finger out to her is the most solemn promise you can possibly as of your friend, and neither one of you has ever refused it.

“Of course.” Juan knows everything you are comfortable with, but she would never betray your trust like that. She hooks her finger around yours and looks at you for an explanation.

“I…” Glancing around, you see that Agent Bailey has dutifully slipped out of earshot and is sitting on your couch with a crossword book firmly in hand. “I feel guilty because now that it’s set…I can’t help wishing it was a date,” you admit quietly, hanging your head turn.

“It kind of is a date.” Syd admits, looking at you with a sense of regret for teasing you. “A platonic on, but a date nonetheless.” She hums. “Just like you and I have dates. Friend dates.”

“That…regrettably…is not what I mean.” The best you can really do is shrug your shoulders in defeat. “Friend dates are awesome and I will take you on dates for the rest of our lives. But I—I wish this was different than that. And it sucks.”

“You can’t help attraction.” She argues softly, knowing that you will still feel guilty. You are very stern about cheating, and this is veering into emotional territory for you. “He might not- it should just be about the dinner.”

“I know.” Peel ginger. Grate ginger. Try not to think too hard about what Marcus will look like in a tux. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” She feels guilty, especially now that she knows how you are feeling about this.

“How could you have known? I’ve kept this as firmly to myself as I possibly could.” And keeping things from Sydney is the most impossible task in the world for you. “Besides. He was the right choice.”

“Still doesn’t make me any less sorry.” She huffs, washing the carrots and bringing them over to the chopping board. “I don’t want you to be stressed, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m going to be stressed until I make a decision about what to do.” Once the ginger is done you move on to washing and slicing celery. “And I don’t know how to make that decision.”

Sydney sighs heavily. “I hate that for you.” She admits softly. “If you need to talk, you let me know.”

“What does Juanito think I should do?” You know her well enough to know that she’s talked to her husband — her own soulmate — about this at least a little.

“Juan thinks that you should be happy.” She hums softly. “Whatever that entails. As long as you are fair to everyone.”

"No groundbreaking advice?" If you're honest with yourself, you were kind of hoping for it. Instead, you're definitely floundering.

Sydney stops chopping and points the tip of the knife at you. “You know what he would say, Birdie.”

Ugh. That's true. You do. Juan is unfalteringly trustworthy like that. "That I have to talk to both of them..."

“Even if Marcus isn’t your soulmate, you are attracted to him, and it’s worth seeing if he might be the one you want to be with.” She shrugs, knowing that it’s easy to give advice when she’s found her soulmate and is blissfully happy. “Or it might just say that Sam isn’t the one.”

"Have you noticed a pattern?" Even as you're making the soup, going through effort and putting care into a dish to comfort and heal, a pattern is becoming as obvious as daybreak.

“I have.” She nods and looks back up at you. “Have you noticed that pattern? Or have you just been ignoring it?”

"I think..." A heavy sigh escapes you as you deposit the clean, diced celery in a bowl. "I might have been ignoring it."

“It’s okay to admit that a relationship has run its course.” She reminds you. “Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

"It's just...no version of this conversation we've had in the last few weeks has ended with the conclusion that I should stay with Sam. And that...that is not how I ever expected things to go. He's such a sweet guy and we've had such a good time." Just as unexpected as this conclusion is the tear that rolls down your cheek, and you brush it away immediately. "It's shitty to break up with someone while they're sick, right?"

“I think you owe him a face to face explanation.” She doesn’t tell you that it’s wrong, if that’s what you want to do. She’ll support whatever you want.

"Shit," you groan, reaching next for an onion. Sydney has trained you to be a dutiful sous chef for so long that now you just do her prep work without thinking. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"

“It doesn’t have to.” She counters. “You said Sam’s reaction was….surprisingly hostile. Maybe he’s had some doubts about the relationship too.”

"If he was hostile about the fact that I was standing my ground, he's either going to be hostile about being broken up with, or just completely silent." Sam doesn't take rejection well, you've seen it in a more professional setting but it will certainly apply here.

“Was he hostile?” She asks seriously. “Or were you both in unknown territory and stubbornly waiting for the other to give in?”

Groaning animatedly, you bump Sydney with your hip at the counter and shake your head. "Sometimes I truly dislike how well you know me. I'm just saying that out loud for the record."

“You know you love me.” She snorted and blows a raspberry at you playfully.

"I do love you." But it garners another groan from you all the same. "This was so much easier when we were kids and our life plan was to live in a castle until we were old enough for a nursing home, and then to be the super weird old ladies on the front porch of the home cursing at people as they walked by."

“We are still on for that.” She jokes, motioning to the apartment. “We are in our castle right now.”

"Technically we can go to an American castle any time we want," you point out. "It comes with the price of visiting my family, but the White House does count as a castle."

“Yes it does.” She agrees, proud to know the first family so well. “But I like our castle better.”

"I love this place." From the first day you set foot inside the inn, you have absolutely adored both working here and even running the place. Living in the caretaker's apartment has been comforting. Like a warm hug on a cold day. "And I love that we get to share it."

“There is no one I would rather do this with.” She tells you honestly, so excited to be able to live out the vague dreams of college now as adults.

"You're gonna make me teary again," you complain, fully teasing her but definitely feeling a little emotional about the whole situation.

“I thought it was my job to be the emotional mess.” Sydney sniffles and moves to wrap her arms around you and squeeze tight.

“Sympathy mood swings.” That makes both of you laugh, there at the counter. “Is that a thing?”

“Why not?” She asks, laughing herself at her husband and best friend having sympathy symptoms of her pregnancy.

“It is now, I guess.” You keep working through the soup prep side by side, getting everything ready in unison. “The thing is…” you hum after you’ve both stopped laughing. “I do care about Sam. And I want him to be happy. I just…don’t think I’m going to be the one to give him the future he wants. Which sucks to realize.”

“It’s better that you realize it now.” She rationalizes. “Less heartache and it’s not like you’re married with kids.”

“And we haven’t started moving in.” That’s an unexpected relief, and the realization that it was moving in together that kicked at your doubt is something you’ll have to grapple with later. “I probably only have a couple of things at his place and the only thing I’ve got of his here is a book I borrowed.”

“And….” She sighs. “Let’s face it, Sam wasn’t happy with you spending all your time at the inn.” She voices. “He rarely wanted to come here, even though he’s the one that can more easily travel.”

“Have you been holding back on me, Badillo?” You raise an eyebrow at her as she works on the chicken. “Hiding the things about Sam that have been bothering you?”

“No.” You don’t seem very surprised. “Just observations that I have made, but I wasn’t sure how you would take them.” She explains. “You were very proud of your relationship with Sam and I didn’t want to influence you unduly.”

"I was." And you can acknowledge that firmly, knowing that the relationship you forged with Sam was based on respect and mutual affection. It does feel like failure to see it ending, but at least you tried. Failure is just a means for new growth, as your mother has always told you.

“I know you look at this as a failure.” She’s known you way too long to think otherwise. “But this was a year long relationship that at the end of the day- you weren’t on the same page.”

“I think it would feel very different if I wasn’t sure it was going to end up talked about in every gossip column from sea to shining sea.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing — and hating — how true it is. Junie isn’t dating and Alex isn’t dating publicly, so all eyes are on you. Especially if you break up with a Congressman.

“Don’t let it bother you.” She urges you. “It’s not like they can say anything bad.”

“Tell that to Princess Diana.” You huff, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to try to straighten out your head a little. “Okay. New topic. Baby name? I’m dying to know what you guys picked.”

She smiles, rubbing her stomach in that universally happy way all expectant mothers do. “Constance Maria Badillo.” She lights up as she tells you the name they had finally decided on last night.

“Oh, honey.” There’s a measure of delight in your giggle when you light up, finding out those two essential pieces of information all at once. Sydney and Juan had been keeping both under wraps. “It’s a girl? Really?”

“We just found out.” She admits, grinning like a maniac. “Of course, baby Badillo could have just been shy but they are pretty positive she’s a girl.”

"You must be thrilled." Of course Sydney would be happy no matter what the gender as long as the baby is healthy, but you know she's always dreamed about having her little girl.

“Over the moon.” Agreeing happily, she turns back to the chicken. “And Juan and I have talked about it.” It’s a casual beginning. “We want you to be her Godmother, as well as Auntie Birdie.”

"Syd." Your knife gets put down immediately and you turn to her with a look of complete awe on your face. "Are you sure? You don't want to ask your sister? I mean I am honored and one thousand percent here for it."

“No.” She shakes her head and her own tools are set down so she can address this properly. “There is no one that we want more than you.” She explains. “You will always be my choice for godparent.”

"I know I've said it before in our lives, but I am here for anything you need." It's not just for Syd, and you lean down and hum a happy hello to your goddaughter that's growing like crazy. "That goes for you too, kiddo. Hear me? Auntie Birdie's got your back. And your front. And all the other bits of you forever."

“You are going to be her favorite.” Sydney sniffles, her hormones making her cry happy tears. “The one she confides in when she can’t bear to tell me or Juan and I love you for that.”

“I hope so.” Wrapping your best friend up in a hug is exactly what this moment needs, and the sound of two women sniffling takes over your kitchen for just long enough to make both of you break out into giggles. “She’s going to get the best of me and I’m going to tell her about all the stupid bullshit we got into as teenagers.”

“Oh god, you better not.” Sydney groans, rolling her eyes. “Nothing she can throw back in my face when she’s angsty and argumentative.”

“Nothing that will put you in Mom Jail,” you tease with a wink. “Promise.”

“Thank goodness.” She snorts. “This one is already gonna have her daddy wrapped around her finger, so I’m gonna have to be the bad cop.”

“It will go back and forth. One day she’ll do something that makes Juan crazy and you’ll be the arms that she runs to.” It happened in your own house more than once, there’s no reason it won’t happen in hers, too. “It will all turn out. She’s going to have the best parents in the world.”

“I hope so.” She shrugs slightly, aware that they will make mistakes, but hopefully it won’t be too bad to make their daughter hate them.

“You have love,” you remind her with a gentle smile. “Have a little faith, too. If nothing else, we all believe in you. All your friends and your family know you’re going to be great.”

“We will have our little village for Constance.” She agrees. “So when we mess up, we can learn.”

“For Baby Badillo number two,” you tease, beaming at her.

“Juan is already asking how many more I want.” Sydney snort, huffing slightly even if she’s grinning. “Told him that he needed to let me birth this one first before we decided that.”

“One at a time is probably best. For your body and your sanity.” Although, you do raise an eyebrow at her. “Twins don’t run in your family, right?”

“Not that I know of, but Juan thinks some cousins might have twins.” She winces and shakes her head with a laugh. “I’ll kill him.”

"Fingers crossed that you only have to grow one baby at a time." With everything prepped, you move to the sink to wash your knives and fetch your best stock pot from the cabinets. "But I will spoil the hell out of all of them, no matter what."

“I know you will.” She knows what despite your already busy schedule, you will always make time for those that matter most to you. Which is why it’s so telling her that you and Sam have been spending less and less time together over the last few months.

“So…” Flashing Sydney a grin as she starts to cook, you move back to the refrigerator to put things away and to get fresh drinks for both of you. “Two questions, then. First: Have you picked a godfather? And two, if I’m her go mother does that mean I get to throw your baby shower?”

"I'm letting Juan pick out the godfather." She admits, shrugging slightly. "I don't- he's got some ideas, but he hasn't made a final decision yet."

“Most of his friends are fathers already, aren’t they?” The Guy friends that Juan had made in the DC area since moving east after meeting Sydney are all responsible men around his age and most of them have families of their own. It’s a small group, it they’re tight knit.

"Yeah....except that, now, Juan has started thinking that he wants someone that is...." She rolls her eyes, "trained." She huffs and moves over to wash her hands again. "You know how involved he was with beefing up security here, he wants a protector for our little girl in case something happens to us."

“Well…that’s not unreasonable, right?” Spying a can of croissant dough — a cheat you’re very fond of — in your fridge, you grab it and decide to fill them with Nutella and berries for a little dessert pastry. “I mean he’s got friends who are trained. Be able to pick someone.”

"I know." She sighs and turns back to you. "I just hate that he's so practical about it." She admits, biting her lip again. "I don't want to think about us not being here to protect her."

“Then try to think of it like he’s choosing someone who can help her learn to protect herself,” you offer instead. As she grows up and faces new things — whatever those things are — her godfather will have been there to teach her self-confidence and safety in equal measure.”

There's a moment where Sydney thinks about what you said and how it applies to the situation before she huffs out a slightly annoyed, mostly amused laugh. "How do you do that?" She grumbles. "I was ready to be in a tearful pout about that you have to go make it perfectly acceptable." There's no heat to her words and she flashes you a grateful smile. "Thanks."

“We’ve been friends for twenty-five years, Sydney Rose.” The grin you flash back at her in unapologetic. “If I don’t know how to talk you out of a panic by now, I’m more clueless than I thought.”

Pursing her lips at you, she doesn't try to deny it. Instead, she turns to rummage in your spice cabinet. "Do you have that turmeric I left up here last time?"

“It’s behind the huge mason jar of chili seasoning.” You tell her without looking up from your dough-chocolate-and-berry project. “Indian spices are in the back because I fucked up the last time I tried to make curry from scratch and they were taunting me.”

“Poor thing.” Sydney sympathizes and shrugs. “We just need to realize they put something extra in their recipes they won’t tell us.” She hums, talking about your favorite curry from your favorite restaurant that you had cancelled on Marcus going to.

"Some kind of magic that I can't wrap my brain around." There were strawberries in your fridge that you're now set on cleaning and trimming. A crescent roll filled with a dollop of Nutella and a whole strawberry is a thing of beauty. "I should just eat their take out every week for the rest of my life instead of trying to make it."

She smirks at you but doesn’t remind you that you would have had some the other day. It would be too cruel. “How about we order some Sunday?” She suggests. “Decompress from the State dinner?”

“That sounds amazing.” The gratitude you have and have always had for her friendship truly is never ending. “You can tell me all about dinner with your folks and we can get chaotic with each other over curry and Scrabble?”

“Sounds like we are party-ing.”She teases, although she loves it. Low key nights are her favorite.

“And all the sparkling apple cider we can stand.” If she’s going to tease you, you’re going to tease her right back. “By the way, I asked Mom to make sure my birthday has a mocktail so you don’t miss out on the fun.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” She beams at being included and tilts her head. “So how was the family dinner, besides the avoidance of Sam talk?”

“Alex is bringing David to the State dinner. Under wraps, of course.” Syd has known your family so long that she knows every inch of your siblings’ lives as well, just like you know hers. “Junie is learning to negotiate to be able to go to parties, so I know I’ve done my job as her big sister right.

“Your brother should be able to take any fucking body he wants to the State dinner.” She rolls her eyes and huffs, offended on behalf of your younger brother. “If foreign dignitaries don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

"He can. It's not like the Spanish royals have a 'no gays' policy or something, and gay marriage obviously isn't the issue. It's that he doesn't want to become the center of an unnecessary debate. He is who he is, and I'm so proud of him for making his choices." Glancing over at her, you shrug slightly. "That being said? I get not wanting to be thrown into the spotlight for who you love."

“Of course you do.” It’s kind of a double-edged sword in her opinion, the political spotlight. You could be a darling of the media one day and the scapegoat the next, just depending on how the mercurial whim of the people shifted.

"It's one thing that Sam didn't seem to mind, and I was grateful for that." In no way are you going to start bad mouthing the man just because you've reached the finish line of your relationship. That's not the kind of person you are.

“I know, but I also know that dating a presidential candidate’s daughter during an election isn’t exactly bad press for a politician.” She holds up a hand. “I’m not saying that’s why he dated you, I’m not speaking ill, I’m just stating facts.”

"If he actually wants to be President, he needs to get used to having the Secret Service being around real fast." You snort, shaking your head and knowing that it really has been one thing bothering him pretty constantly. "He hates feeling like his privacy is being invaded."

“It might be because he’s not in control of the detail.” She guesses. “You have the final say on the detail and where they are.”

"Either way, I don't think he'll miss having an agent in his living room." There are plenty of strawberries, so you offer one to Syd and pop a small one in your mouth to savor. "Maybe I just won’t date during my mom’s administration. Maybe that’s the solution.”

“You like having a partner though.” She argues. “And you shouldn’t give up dating because of who your mother is.”

"It might just be less complicated." It's not what you want but it would certainly save you some heartache. "What's the worst that happens? I'm single for the next eight years?"

“Already counting on that re-election?” She teases, bumping your hip playfully.

You huff, swallowing a half-laugh, and bump her back. "More like pondering my worst case scenario."

“Whatever happens, we will be with you.” She promises with a grin.

______

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My Masterlist!

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fruity-fruition · 15 days

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Future Wondershow!!

Everything is amazing and ideal because I cannot handle a sad ending between them they're my lifeline

Tsukasa and Nene are young skilled up-rising stars in both theatre and film industry who both are rapidly growing at an incredible rate due to their natural charisma, their history of already having a quite successful troupe in high school, mixed with both stubborn hard work and willingness/ideas to do insane shit due to being under Rui's direction for so long.

Rui is also an up-rising director who took the world by storm at how innovative his directing is in a field that's lacking in passion recently. Mixed with everything I've stated for Nene and Tsukasa too.

Emu took over the theme park business kind of. She's sharing with her brother's still, who's showing her the ropes and the actual mechanism of how everything works. Shosuke and Keisuke had fully embraced Emu's bright ideas and cheery attitude now, both thanks to working with WxS for so long and Emu showing them how capable she actually is, despite her optimistic naivety. The park is running to be as successful as ever, now Emu finally has power to make the changes she knows her grandpa would be proud of.

Tsukasa, Nene, and Rui often work together on projects which lead their fan community to be merged in a way. It started off divided, with Tsukasa and Nene fans fighting near constantly due to the two coming into the field at the exact same time, but eventually most of the public know that if one is there, the other two won't be that far behind.

Tsukasa, Rui, and Nene often get invited to those fancy parties, (they absolutely do not like it. It's too boring. But they go anyway because they need to build connections and stuff apparently) and every time they have the opportunity to invite a plus one, they drag Emu with. None of them stay at the main hall for long, and they'd drag each other outside to either the balcony or garden and just hang around.

This ALWAYS results in them going viral on some sort of social media, with the press never failing to capture a photo of all four of them hanging about and laughing with each other.

Their work often brings them apart a lot of times, and even though they still meet weekly in the SEKAI, it's just not the same.

So once every year, they all clear their schedules completely for a full week or more so they could go on a holiday together. It doesn't really matter where. They could stay at home a lounge for the whole week for all they care. But they still do it just to physically be there with each other.

(bonus point if they invite other friends too. Saki, Toya, Mizuki, etc)

Again, schedules and overseas work contrast each other a lot of times if they're all working on a project.

But whenever Rui, Tsukasa, and Nene end up home all at once, unplanned, they all collectively decide to just drag Emu to go out with them to their old restaurant that they always go to after a show in high school.

Emu's employees have gotten used to seeing Emu piggyback riding Rui/Tsukasa at full speed leaving the office that they have an entire protocol that Emu and her brothers made for when it happens.

Wondershow would do random livestreams together. Either gaming, or baking, or painting each other's nails. They have no specific genre. They just do it for fun.

Nene would still do singular gaming livestreams still, because it's one of her passions.

I have more but the rest is kinda shippy and I wanted to keep this PURELY Wondershow friendship because I love Wondershow friendship so much guys they're everything I hate them

(you can so clearly tell that English isn't my native language in this post. Wow. I'm so sorry I hope it's coherent enough)

#pjsk #project sekai #tsukasa tenma #rui kamishiro #prsk #nene kusanagi #emu ootori #emu otori #wxs #wonderlands x showtime #wonderland showtime #wonderland x showtime #wandasho #wondershow #polysho #?#pjsk headcanons #fru posts

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lathalea · 14 days

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Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ...

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening.

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall.

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again.

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him.

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes.

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together.

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears.

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment.

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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illiterateaffairs · 8 months

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behind the scenes chapter five | fifty fake dates

masterlist | prev | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 6,388

summary: you and jamie face the biggest test of your fake relationship so far; a double date with keeley and roy

a/n: this is once again a bit later than i had hoped to post, but this is my favorite chapter so far so i hope its worth the wait! i cannot wait to hear what you all think, especially in regards to the reader's scenes with roy and keeley :)

Jamie could be a very cocky person, but he could honestly say, in a completely unbiased way that you two were absolutely crushing this fake dating thing.

Not only had your movie premiere hard launch gone incredibly well the other week, you’d had many successful fake dates since. You’d been seen on various breakfast, lunch and dinner dates, as well as on walks together and even outside your flat again. You’d also posted a couple Instagram posts and stories here and there for good measure, slowly ramping up in a way that felt natural to a real relationship.

The public was eating it up. From fans to journalists, everyone thought you were adorable together. Jamie knew for a fact no one in the world suspected this was all for show.

Unfortunately, the pitfall of doing such a good job meant that not only had his coworkers bought the whole ordeal, but demanded to see it up close. And while fooling Roy and Keeley was a major cornerstone of the whole plot, he wasn’t exactly prepared for what Keeley had in store for them.

“A double date?” Jamie squints at her, after she’d cornered him in the locker room at the end of training one evening.

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound like fun!” Keeley nods, “It was actually Roy’s idea.”

“No!” Roy exclaims raspily from where he was sitting in the coaches office. The three of them were conveniently the last ones to leave for the night.

Keeley shakes her head, “You were the one who said you wanted to meet her.” She turns back to Jamie, “And I for one think a night out, just the four of us, would be a perfect way for all of us to get to know each other.”

Jamie hesitates. Again, he knows that’s the whole point of this charade. But he hadn’t been mentally prepared for when the opportunity to show you off actually came.

“I mean, I’m having dinner with her tonight,” he starts out slowly, “There’s no guarantee she’ll be available, you know, her being a hugely popular and successful actress and everything. But I’ll bring it up.”

Keeley smiles, “That’s all I ask!”

Jamie gives her a tight smile, before bidding her and Roy a good night.

Well, this should be fun.

“Hi, sorry I’m late. Filming ran long,” you say hurriedly as you breeze over to the table Jamie is sitting at. Despite there not being any photographers in this dimly lit restaurant, you feel the need to press a kiss onto his cheek, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Jamie shrugs as you slide into the seat across from him, “No worries.”

You sigh, and mutter quietly, “Well, isn’t the point of this whole thing to be seen entering places together?”

“It's fine, really,” he insists. And then with a smirk, “We’ll be seen leaving together and I think that’s a little more important.”

You can’t help but chuckle as you finally catch your breath from rushing in. As you’re collecting yourself, you notice a glass of wine and an otherwise empty table in front of you.

“No menu?” you question.

Jamie shrugs again, this time a little awkwardly, “I went ahead and ordered for you. I figured you were filming late and thought you’d be eager to eat quickly. You like chicken parmesan, right?”

An impressed smile takes over your face, “Wow. As far as fake boyfriends go, you’re pretty good.”

A bashful smile takes over his own face. “I do my best.”

“And let me guess, you got the steak but you’re going to tell Roy you got a salad.”

Jamie quirks an amused eyebrow, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You’re both equally proud and yet surprised at how quickly you’d become accustomed to each other’s lives and habits. And how natural it felt to fold one another into your own.

Jamie lets you take a healthy sip of wine before taking a deep breath, “Speaking of Roy.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow this time in question.

“Yeah, uh, he and Keeley actually asked me something earlier. They - well, more Keeley - thought it would be fun for us to go on a sort-of double date? I told them I’d ask you, but I didn’t promise them anything. So, if it's not something you’re up for that's totally fine, I can blow them off.”

You bite back a laugh at how quickly and anxiously he’s speaking. You think it's best to cut him off before he passes out. “Jamie,” you reach across the table and take his hand, “I think that sounds fun.”

Jamie squints, “Really? Because we seriously don’t have to.”

“I’m serious! I think it would be fun to meet the people that sent you into a spiral and made you ask to fake date me,” Jamie scoffs but a smile starts breaking through again, “Besides, this deal is a two way street. You’ve done plenty to help boost my rep so far, it's time I return the favor.”

Now Jamie fully smiles, but still asks, “If you’re sure?”

“I’m positive!”

“Alright. Well, since you’re the one that has to pretend to be obsessed with me all night, I think it’s only fair that you get to pick the activity. What do you want to do?”

You mull it over in your end until the perfect idea strikes you.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I am absolutely shit at bowling.”

From the passenger's seat of Jamie’s car, you let out a cackle. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“There absolutely is.” Jamie frowns beside you, completely unamused.

“Wow, finally something Jamie Tartt isn’t amazing at.”

“You know you haven’t seen me do that much,” he points out.

You hold your hand up and tick things off, “Amazing footballer, amazing fake-boyfriend. What else is there?”

This gets a laugh out of him.

The two of you are currently parked outside a bowling alley that is surprisingly empty for a Saturday evening. Jamie had received a text from Keeley saying she and Roy had arrived a few minutes prior, so now the two of your were mentally preparing for the night ahead.

“You know you could have told me this before and we could have done something else?” you asked after a few moments had passed.

Jamie lets out a deep breath, “But you were so excited about it when you brought it up.”

You chew the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. “Well, I appreciate that. And I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think.”

“Let me know if you think that when you see me play.”

“Well, I can’t do that unless we actually go inside,” you whisper to him like it's a secret he hadn’t caught onto.

Jamie sighs deeply again.

“Hey,” you reach across the console and squeeze his hand briefly, “Tonight’s gonna be great. We’re gonna play a game, I’m gonna wow your friends, we’re gonna drink a shit ton of beers and have a shit ton of nachos, and have a good time.”

The side of Jamie’s mouth tilts up, “I think my vocabulary is rubbing off on you.”

You chuckle, shoving him lightly, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road already.”

“God, you’re impatient,” Jamie teases, but he’s finally pushing his car door open.

“Time is money, money is power, power is pizza, let's do this!”

If you were being honest, you had googled Roy Kent and Keeley Jones before. However, nothing could prepare you for how intimidating Roy was and how drop-dead gorgeous Keeley was in real life.

You and Jamie approached them hand-in-hand, and took little to no time for you to clock that you were the only people in the establishment. You’re confused about this, but you have to quickly bury any questions when Keeley pulls you into a tight hug.

“Hi, it’s so great to meet you, I’m Keeley!” she greets enthusiastically, before pulling away from you abruptly, “Holy shit, I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want is a random stranger hugging you out of nowhere. I’m sure you’re on edge all the time from the attention you get.”

You can’t help but flush when anyone makes a reference to your level of fame, not one to dwell on it yourself. However, Keeley’s energy is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but feel comfortable as well as amused at how hard she’s trying.

“No, no, not at all. Hugging is great,” You give her a big smile as reassurance, “Besides, you’re not a random stranger, you’re one of Jamie’s best friends, so you’re automatically already a cool person in my book.”

Keeley matches your smile before turning to Jamie, “Oh, my God, you were right about how nice she is.”

You turn to Jamie as well with a curious look, and he can barely make eye contact with you. “So, now you know Keeley, and that scruffy old-man behind her is Roy.”

You turn to the man in question, and give him a kind smile and small wave, “Hey! I take it you’re probably not going to bear-hug me like your girlfriend, but it’d be funny if you did.”

To everyone’s surprise, Roy cracks a smile at your joke. It’s a small one but it's there. The bearded man gives you an approving nod before the four of you start making your way to your table. As you and Jamie trail behind the other couple, he gives you an impressed smile and you beam back at him.

Once you’re seated, you and Keeley send the boys off to grab bowling shoes and snacks for the group.

“So, am I crazy or is this place extremely vacant for a Saturday night?” you ask the blonde as you type your name into the scoreboard.

Keeley chuckles, “Oh yeah, we actually rented the place out for the next couple of hours.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Okay. Boujee.”

Keeley shrugs, “We don’t normally do things like that, but Jamie thought you’d prefer a night not being bothered by fans and such.”

Oh.

“While I normally don’t do things like this either, it does sound nice to have a normal night out.”

“It’ll be fun!” Keeley says cheerfully.

“Definitely,” you nod along, feeling warmed by her vibrant personality. “Even more so because apparently Jamie is really bad at bowling.”

Keeley snorts, “Oh, good. I mean, I’m not so great myself and Roy didn’t seem too enthused about this,” at your alarmed look, she quickly continues, “He’s never enthused about anything, don’t take it personally.”

You nod again, still a bit unsure. While you’d seemingly appeased Roy with your joke earlier, you were still anxious to get on his good side for some reason. You were a people pleaser through and through, but especially when the people in question were hard to crack.

You don’t have much time to dwell on your thoughts when Jamie and Roy reappear with beer, nachos, and bowling shoes.

Soon after the game begins. Between the consistent and easy flowing small talk, you bowl first with a respectable 8 pins down for your first go. You were just getting warmed up. Then Keeley takes a turn and manages 5 pins. You try to keep your laughter at bay when Jamie lands his first roll in the gutter, before just barely hitting 2 pins on his second attempt.

“I told you I was shit,” Jamie frowns, plopping down beside you after his turn.

You give him a playful pout, rubbing his arm. “Hey, the night is young, babe. You can still redeem yourself.”

You miss the flush on his cheeks from the pet name, as you and Keeley turn to Roy stepping up to the lane.

“You got this Roy-o!” Keeley claps.

Roy lets out a deep sigh before casually rolling the ball down the lane only to get a strike.

You and Jamie sit up straight in surprise, as Keeley’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

“I thought you hated bowling?” she exclaims, Roy sitting beside her and taking a gulp of his beer.

“I said I didn’t like it, never said I was bad at it,” he corrects, “Phoebe had like 3 birthdays here.”

“Phoebe’s Roy’s niece,” Keeley says, facing you before you could even ask, “You’d love her.”

You hum in response. You give Roy a friendly yet challenging grin, “Looks like I have stiffer competition than I expected.”

You catch a glimmer of competitiveness in Roy’s eye as you stand up to take your next turn. While you weren’t sure he’d be down for a little competition, he seems intrigued by your retort.

You’re pleased when you score a spare this round. Jamie and Keeley cheer for you, the former planting a celebratory kiss on your cheek when you return. Roy, for his part, looks impressed. It was on.

The game practically flies by after that. You and Roy are pretty evenly matched, taking turns between scoring strikes and fumbling a bit under the pressure. Keeley holds her own as well, but she’s mostly just happy to be there, cheering both you and Roy on. Jamie for his part manages to do better little by little, but he’s certainly no stranger to a gutter-bar or ill-fated split. And while he was resistant at first, he starts laughing along with your groups playful jabs at his expense.

Between rounds, you thoroughly enjoy getting to know Roy and Keeley. Keeley is a bit more forthcoming in conversations, but after a couple beers, Roy loosens up a bit himself and you’re pleased to learn he has a fun sense of humor.

By the end of the game, you manage to one-up Roy Kent by mere single digits. And while he’s graceful in the loss, he can’t help but point out he was a bit rusty.

“Okay, now that you’re warmed up, why don’t we make the next game a little more interesting,” you challenge.

Roy raises one of his thick eyebrows, “Go on.”

“Let’s say the next loser between us picks up the tab for the night?” you suggest.

Roy chuckles, “Big talk from someone with all that Hollywood money.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure the highest paid coach in the premier league can handle it,” you throw back.

Keeley and Jamie amusedly watch you two like a tennis match.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto Roy’s face, before he extends his hand to you, “It’s a deal.”

You smirk, shaking his hand.

“Alright, if we’re doing this again, I need another beer,” Jamie announces, standing up from the booth.

“Ooh, I’ll come with,” Keeley says, jumping up as well.

“Wait, wait,” you call out, grabbing Jamie’s hand so he turns back around.

“Yeah, love?” Jamie asks, startled by the ease in which the pet name rolls off his own tongue.

“Can you get me some chicken wings, please?” you ask, with the sweetest smile you can muster.

Jamie chuckles, “Of course.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song. He watches your eyes glance over at Roy and Keeley quickly and discreetly, before looking back up at him. Then you blink twice.

Jamie doesn’t hold back the small smile that takes over his face as he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. He forces himself not to linger, so he and Keeley can head to the snack bar.

This leaves you alone with Roy for the first time tonight. You have half a second to worry you’d be sitting in awkward silence before the man himself is speaking up.

“I like you,” he says suddenly.

You sit up in surprise for the second time tonight. Roy didn’t come across as the most transparent person when it came to feelings, and you’re once again sure the alcohol was helping, but it still took you aback.

“Oh?” is all you can manage to say in response.

He nods, sipping on his beverage. “You’re good for Jamie. You treat him well, but you don’t take his shit. He needs that.”

You give him a small smile, touched by his words. You were both relieved you were pulling off the girlfriend thing so well, and also happy that he thought you were making a positive impact on Jamie. Your situation may be temporary - and mostly fake - but it felt good that you were a decent influence in the time you have.

“Thanks, Roy.”

He tilts his beer bottle in your direction, and you raise yours as well.

“You’re also a hell of a bowler, but you are going down this next game.”

You scoff, “You wish, Kent.”

Meanwhile, Keeley is also singing your praises at the concessions stand with Jamie.

“Bravo, Jamie,” Keeley grins, shaking Jamie’s arm with an affectionate squeeze, “Not only is she fucking fit and talented - at acting and bowling nonetheless - she’s so fucking cool. She’s perfect for you.”

Jamie smiles bashfully, but accepts Keeley’s compliments of you. She was right. You were amazing.

“And, I’m so happy you’re happy,” she adds, even more sincerely, “It always seemed like you were going through the motions in your past relationships, before and after me. And during me, I guess.”

Jamie moves to apologize but she shakes her head.

“You don’t need to do that,” she states forcefully, “You’ve grown so much. You deserve all the good things happening in your life. And this,” she nods in the direction you and Roy were sitting, “Is such a good thing.”

Jamie’s smile wobbles a little, “You know I wasn’t just going through the motions with you, right? I really, really cared about you Keeley.”

Keeley instantly sobers as well, nodding aggressively, “I know that.”

“Good.”

“But I can tell this is different,” she insists. “You’re different. She’s different. And like I said, that’s a good thing.”

Jamie nods. Keeley’s words weigh heavily on him. Maybe that was the thing about him and her all along. You could care about a person, but that didn’t make you two the right fit. He considers this thought as he and Keeley carry their food back to the table. You and him were different. But not the different Keeley thought. You were just acting, and you were doing a hell of a good job of it. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Keeley and Roy were believing all of it, just like he wanted. So why doesn’t he feel as relieved as he should?

He buries those thoughts as you excitedly stand up to start the next game. That wasn’t before you happily thank him for the wings with yet another peck on the lips. And with that and more alcohol flowing through his veins, he can hardly remember any of his worries.

After you score another strike right off the bat, instead of returning to your seat you gesture for Jamie to join you in front of the lane.

“What are you gonna do?” he questions, “Wrap your arms around me to show me the right technique?”

“While that would be adorable, no,” you retort with a laugh, “But I can give you some pointers.”

Jamie can barely focus on the tips you’re telling him, because even if you’re not physically showing him how to move, you’re still standing in such close proximity, and whispering to him nonetheless. How was he meant to pay attention? When you’re done with your explanation, you give him another quick kiss, wishing him good luck, before skipping back to the booth.

Whether it was the tutorial or the kiss, he’d never know, but he somehow managed 7 pins that first try, and knocked down 2 more his second go. That was almost a spare. He’d be proud either way, but was even more so when you excitedly cheered for him on his way back to the table.

The second game is just as much of a blur as the first, except this time as the competition and the alcohol levels grow, you and Jamie become much more affectionate. He knows you don’t love PDA, so you keep the kissing to a minimum around Roy and Keeley, but there’s no shortage of hugging and hand holding as you rack up points on the scoreboard. Towards the end of the game, you manage the first Turkey of the night, and Jamie picks you up and spins you around.

Before you know it, everyone’s down to their last shot. The score is so close, with you getting yet another strike at the last moment. Jamie and Keeley finish with respectable scores - Jamie having improved a lot this go - but they’re nowhere near you and Roy.

Roy’s final roll is what makes or breaks the game. If he scores a strike, he wins. But even a spare means you’d win. Everyone watches with baited breath as he steps up to the lane. Its as if the ball rolls in slow motion, but as it hits the pins and you all watch as each and every pin gets knocked down, various exclamations are shouted.

“He must’ve cheated!” is Jamie’s contribution to the yelling, but he and you are both half laughing at the same time.

You, for your part, can’t be too disappointed when you’ve had such a fun night with more than amazing company. You also watch as Keeley gives Roy a sweet, congratulatory kiss, which was the first time they’d done so all night. Your heart pangs in your chest a little, feeling envious for the first time for what another couple had. It’s not something you’ve felt often in your life, but seeing how well the pair complemented each other all night made you long for the same thing with someone one day.

“You put up a good fight,” Roy salutes you, settling back down next to his girlfriend.

You smile, “It was a close game, but I’ll hand it to you.”

You begin to take out your credit card, when Jamie pushes your hand away, already taking out his own wallet.

“I’ve got this,” he says.

You frown, “I don’t remember you being a part of the deal.”

Jamie shrugs, “A lady should never pay on a date, so your bill is now my bill.”

Normally, you’d argue on account of feminism, but you’re feeling a little loopy. Most likely from the beer and not at all from the boy in front of you with that lopsided grin.

After Jamie closes your group’s tab, the four of you change back into your regular shoes and start saying your goodbyes.

“This was so fun!” Keeley smiles, pulling you in for another hug, which you gladly reciprocate, “We should do it again soon.”

“For sure,” you agree, before pulling away and addressing Roy, “I would like a rematch.”

Roy chuckles, “You’re on.” And then he surprises you by giving you a quick hug himself.

With a final goodbye, Roy and Keeley start heading for the exit. Jamie gives you a sly grin once they’re far enough away.

“I’d say we did a good job tonight,” he says.

You nod, “We definitely did. You’re friends love me, and you know what? I love them, too.”

Jamie laughs, “Good.” He gestures his hand to the doors, “Shall we?”

You give Jamie your own secretive grin, “There’s one more thing I have to do before we leave.”

Jamie furrows his brows, “What’s that?”

Your grin only grows, before you grip his hand and pull him towards the far side of the bowling alley that housed a handful of arcade games.

Jamie cackles when you stop in front of one of them.

“The claw machine?”

You only nod, already shoving quarters into the machine, “I was hoping they’d have one of these.”

Jamie shakes his head, watching as you navigate the claw around the machine, “There’s no way you win this. You know these things are rigged, right?”

Before the words are fully out of his mouth, you’re already dropping a bright orange dragon in to the opening before pulling it out of the bottom.

Jamie stares at you with wide eyes, “How the fuck did you do that?”

You shrug, “I’m amazing at arcade games. And I needed a win.”

Jamie laughs again, “I’d say you’re far from a loser. Did you see whose name was at the bottom of the scoreboard?”

You giggle, and then hold out the dragon to him, “Well here. A consolation prize.”

Jamie takes the stuffed toy from your hands, “For me?”

“Of course. I mean, as long as you treat him right and give him a name.”

Jamie studies the dragon’s face for a moment. “Alfred.”

You snort, “Alfred?”

“Alfred the Dragon.” Jamie says, assuredly.

“Well, I love it.”

“Good,” Jamie laughs along with you. “Well, the reservation we had on this place is about to end. People are going to start showing up any second so we should probably go.”

“Wait,” you grab Jamie’s hands again, “It's only, what, 9PM? Let’s go out and do something else.”

“Really?” Jamie asks, both surprised and amused.

“Yeah, why not? I hardly ever get out like this, might as well make the most of it while I have the mental energy,” you say with a laugh. “Come on, you’re the guy who knows all the spots where we can enjoy a drink on the down low right? Any bars like that?”

A smile starts to grow on Jamie’s face again, “Well, there is one.”

“Did you bring me to a karaoke bar?” you question, but there’s an excited grin on your face.

Jamie shrugs from the driver’s seat of his car, relieved he’d stayed sober enough to keep the night going. He feared that wouldn’t last much longer, though.

“Everyone at this place is so pissed they’d never realize they were around a famous actress, even if you wore a shirt that said ‘I was in Study Break’.”

You laugh embarrassedly, rubbing your face. “Of course you’ve seen the sitcom I was in.”

Jamie smiles, “That and Parks and Rec are only two of the greatest comedies of all time.”

“That’s generous,” you say. “If we’re at a karaoke bar, does that mean you’re going to sing?”

Jamie huffs, “Hell no. I would need several drinks for that.”

“I think we can make that happen,” you smirk. “Do you think Alfred will be okay to wait in the car?”

You both turn back to where Jamie had buckled the plush dragon in behind the two of you.

“Does that make us neglectful parents to leave our kid in the car?” he asks.

“Eh, he’ll survive.” You shrug, before the two of you jump out of the car.

You and Jamie immediately camp out at open spots at the bar and order drinks. While much of the beer from earlier had worn off, Jamie could still tell you were feeling lighter, bopping along to the horrible singing from the karaoke performer on the stage in the front of the room. He’s adored getting to see such a playful side of you tonight. He hopes he can start to bring it out of you even when alcohol wasn’t involved.

“I just realized when we conducted our research on each other, I didn’t ask if you had a go to karaoke song,” you ask him after a few minutes of quiet between the two of you.

Jamie thinks for a beat. Not that he’d participated in the activity often, he did have a few go-to’s. “Probably something by The Beatles. Or Britney Spears.”

You cackle, “Those two couldn’t be more different options and yet they’re both so perfect for you.”

Jamie laughs along with you, “What about you?”

“Hmm, I like a good 80’s song. Some Madonna, or Pat Benetar.”

“Those are solid.”

“And this isn't the 80's, but if I can get someone to do a duet with me, The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.”

“That is a bold karaoke song.”

“Sure, but it's so powerful.”

You both sip on your drinks as you keep humming along to the next singer who's doing a rough version of Bennie and the Jets.

“I know another question I didn’t ask you that feels like an oversight,” Jamie says this time, “What is Miss Movie Star’s favorite movie?” Jamie’s immediately intrigued when you become embarrassed by the question. He pokes your stomach gently. “What? Now you’ve got to tell me.”

You answer so softly, he can barely hear you over the music. “When Harry Met Sally.”

Jamie’s mouth is agape, “Excuse me, When Harry Met Sally? The girl who hates romance’s favorite movie is a romantic comedy?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I never said I hated romance, I just said some movies set unrealistic expectations.”

“Still!” Jamie exclaims with wide eyes.

“I know, I know. But it’s just so comforting! And Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal are so good together.”

“I mean, yeah.” Jamie agrees, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I stand by the fact that most romcoms can be a bit far fetched.”

“Okay, that’s fair. What other movies are your favorites then?”

You once again look afraid to answer, but inevitably do. “13 Going on 30…Notting Hill…”

“Are you kidding me? 13 Going On 30 is the most unrealistic. It's about a girl who goes from a 13 year old to a full grown adult overnight!”

“Yes, but Mark Ruffalo!”

“And Notting Hill is about the biggest actress in the world moving across the world for a random bookstore owner, how is that realistic?”

“Well, I mean I’m pretending to date you!” you retort before thinking through what you’re saying.

Jamie doesn’t dwell on it, “Did you just compare yourself to Julia Roberts?”

You sputter, “Not fully, but that would make you Hugh Grant!”

Jamie gives you a look, “I’m of a little higher rank than a bookstore owner.”

You gesture between the two of you, “So you’re saying the two of us come across as realistic. That’s good, that's what we want.”

Jamie chuckles, as you ground your conversation back in reality. “That’s fair.”

You smile slightly, “And again; I never said I hated romance and stuff. I just wish it was easier to come by like it seems on screen.”

Jamie nods, speaking more softly, “Yeah, me too.”

Before you lose yourself in Jamie’s gaze, you turn the topic on him, “What’s your favorite movie, then? Bend It Like Beckham?”

Jamie snorts, “While that’s a great film, I wouldn’t say it's my favorite.”

“Fair. But if you say another one of my movies, I’ll punch you.”

Your conversation continues just as smoothly as your cocktails go down after that. You bounce between learning more about one another, to mindless conversations about seemingly nothing. You also take many breaks to belt the lyrics to songs you love as more and more drunk patrons lousily perform.

Before you know it, you’re both nearly as drunk as the karaoke singers. Jamie soon realizes though, you’re much more of a lightweight, constantly coming up with random topics.

“I like the way you say Keeley’s name,” you tell him at one point, completely unrelated to the conversation you were having.

Jamie furrows his eyebrows, “Keeley?”

You shove your index finger in his face, “See, like that! Keeley.”

He chuckles at your poor, yet adorable imitation of his accent.

“You’re from where again?” you ask.

“Manchester.”

“So, that’s what? A Manchester-an accent?”

Jamie laughs again, “Mancunian.”

“Mancunian,” you slur, making yourself laugh this time. “I like it.”

“Do you like the way I say your name?” Jamie asks teasingly.

You bob your head up and down, “I like the way you say everything.”

Jamie didn’t expect that answer. Even in his inebriated state, he feels his stomach flip.

It’s around midnight that Jamie realizes that even under the influence, you were still a sneaky one. You’re laughing through a story about you and your friend Katie, when the MC calls Jamie’s name out as the next singer. Jamie looks towards the stage in confusion, before it dawns on him. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees the cheeky grin plastered across your face.

“How did you- when did you??” he stutters.

“When I said I had to go to the bathroom like 20 minutes ago,” you hiccup.

Jamie shakes his head, “I can’t go up there.”

“Sure you can!” you exclaim, attempting to push him off the barstool, although you’re doing a pretty pathetic job of it.

As the MC repeats his name, some people around you clock that he’s The Jamie Tartt and start chanting for him.

He gives you a look, “So much for staying under the radar.”

In your state, you don’t even seem to care, instead joining the crowd, “Jamie. Jamie. Jamie.”

He truly believes if he were a little less drunk, he would have resisted harder. But what was Jamie Tartt if not a crowd pleaser?

He eventually makes his way to the stage, receiving a louder than normal applause from the bar crowd. He reminds himself that even if they’re aware of who he is now, they certainly won't remember this tomorrow. As he pulls the microphone off the stand, he realizes he doesn’t know what song he’s singing, until the unmistakable first beats of Toxic by Britney Spears play through the speakers. He locks eyes with you immediately back by the bar, and you have a shit eating grin still plastered on your face. He can’t help but smile back.

At this point Jamie’s inevitably given into the absurdity of the night, and unashamedly gives a full fledged performance. The bar goes wild, but he’s only really aware of you. He somehow hears your cheers above the roar of the crowd, and is egged on by your amusement. Under normal circumstances, he may be embarrassed by how seriously he was taking this, but he’s surrendered to the simple fact that if it made you happy, he didn’t care how ridiculous he looked.

By the time he’s reached the final chorus of the song, you were up from your seat and the whole bar was singing along. Everyone cheers even louder when he’s done, and he gives them an over dramatic bow. As he bounds back down the stage, the people he passes offer high fives and tell him they’re huge fans. He even hears a few people breakout into his football chant.

“Wow, you were so good!” you tell him genuinely, putting each one of your hands on his shoulders, “Football better watch out, cause you could have a real career as a singer.”

Jamie rolls his eyes with a laugh, “Sure I do.”

You laugh along with him, “Either way, now that I know you kill at karaoke, we definitely have to come back.”

“Alright, alright, but next time you’re singing with me.”

“As long as its Fleetwood Mac, I’m down.”

The two of you don’t last much longer after that. As soon as Jamie can tell you’re starting to grow tired, he announces you should call it a night. He calls a car this time though, planning to pick up his car the following day when he was much more sober. You beg him to take Alfred the Dragon, though, stating sincerely that you’d cry if he was left in the car alone all night long. He immediately hates the idea of you crying and hurriedly unlocked the car to retrieve the stuffed animal.

When the car pulls up to your flat, he tells the driver he’d be a few minutes while he walked you to the door.

Jamie amusedly watches you very carefully walk up the concrete stairs. Despite not feeling quite that steady himself, he still follows closely behind in case you trip.

You stumble a little when you reach the top and Jamie gently takes hold of your arms, the two of you unable to keep from giggling.

“Well, this is me!” you announce, standing up straight in his arms.

“You don’t say?” Jamie jokes.

“You can stay here, you know,” you say, “The couch is pretty comfortable. I fell right to sleep at the end of Ratatouille the other night.”

“You were watching Ratatouille?” he asks incredulously.

“Ratatouille,” you mimic his accent again, pinching one of his cheeks lightly, “I fucking love your accent.”

Jamie laughs, a little less amused this time with you in such close proximity, “Well, thank you.”

You nod to the door, “So, you wanna stay? I bet people would go crazy if they heard about you leaving my place tomorrow morning.”

Jamie huffs. He considers it. He does. He’s exhausted, and he’d also love more time with you. And you’re right, this would be good for the ruse. But even as the alcohol slowly wears off of both of you, he thinks maybe tonight isn’t the best time

“Maybe another night,” he eventually responds softly. He nods behind him, “I can’t keep the driver waiting much longer.”

You pout playfully but nod, “Okayyy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow though?”

He nods back, “Of course.” A beat passes, “Thank you again for coming out tonight. With Keeley and Roy. Meant a lot.”

You smile at him brightly, “Anytime. Like you said, we’re a team.” Then you slide out of his arms that he’s long forgotten were even wound around you. “Good night, boyfriend.” you say dramatically, before turning to the door.

He smiles wistfully at the back of your head, “Good night, girlfriend.”

Just as you manage to get your door unlocked, you abruptly turn back around to face him. Before he can question anything, you’re gripping his shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, albeit sloppy kiss - and not on the cheek, but the lips.

Jamie can hardly process what is happening before you pull away from him. He looks at you curiously as you give him a coy smile and whisper, “Google Earth.”

Jamie breathes out a surprised and shaky laugh, “Always taking pics.”

You giggle with him, before once again going back to your front door. You wish him another good night, before entering your flat and shutting the door.

Jamie shakes his head. You definitely wouldn’t remember much of the last couple hours of your night. Part of him wishes he could forget some of it, too. That would make things a lot simpler.

a/n: it's a race to the who falls first finish line! who do we think will admit to it first? also two notes- 1) criminal that jamie wasn't on the team when they went to karaoke in season 1, 2) idk enough about bowling scores to make this completely accurate, so work with me on this haha

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royalestrellas @torpedo--belly @skewedcherries @littlemisssunshine192 @hopefulromances @breakmyheartlater @ohpuckyeah @alipap3 @meg-ro @rexorangecouny @pythagothug @bonesbonesetc @xxenia14 @rockchickrebel @thatonedogwithablog @percysaidnever @msjb2002 @loveforaugust @dicgohargreeves @whimsical-roasting @tortilla-maria1 @rubyliquor @taytaylala12 @kno-way-home @gcidrvsh @lightninginab0ttle @beekprsdaughter it wouldn’t let me tag the last couple of you, but i will keep trying <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x f!reader #mine #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #behind the scenes series

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strayed-quokka · 2 years

Text

three in one || hwang hyunjin

» summary: hyunjin finds it depressing to hear that you’ve never had an orgasm. he’s determined to give you three in one night. at least.

» pairing: hyunjin x reader

» rating: NC-17 minors please do not interact

» genre: acquaintances to very well acquainted LMAO, porn with minimal (no) plot, implied he has a crush on you though

» warnings: WELL so… degradation, dom hyunjin, sub reader, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, overstimulation (if you squint), squirting, unprotected sex (it’s fiction ok do better), name calling, very brief crying, hyunjin is big, cowgirl, creampie, spanking, chocking, spitting, slapping (tame tho like once), hyunjin is smug af, sex at a party, hints of aftercare mentioned, i think i got it all now...

» words: 4,742

» a/n: i am revamping tomorrow hyunjin blog only everyone else irrelevant (i’m only joking do not come for me i very much love everyone) but fr i can't even defend myself anymore han i'm so sorry ily. also, i am hitting a milestone soon and have a celebration post up with some ideas in mind for how to celebrate so if you have any particular WIP's of mine you'd like to see first, you can find it here.

The silence in the room drove you further into your best friends arms, hiding out of sheer embarrassment at everyone's surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it, that spilling something you didn’t even deem a secret to be so… well, crazy.

“You’ve never?” Minho speaks up first, his face both disbelieving and feeling a little sorry for you. He’s incredibly outspoken, and you know both from him and others that unlike you, he has a rather successful sex life.

“How do you know?” Felix interjects.

“What do you mean how does she know?” Seungmin’s hit the back of his friends head, who in turn hits back as the two begin to argue amongst each other.

“I mean… it’s not a big deal,” you try, but it’s met with even more outcry from your circle of acquaintances. That’s what makes it so awkward, maybe, that you’d dared share it to classmates that were more only known to you through Jisung, rather than being actual friends to you.

“You’re in your sexual prime and you’ve never had an orgasm. How is that not a big deal?” Minho continues, and you don’t miss the compliment thrown in there somewhere that he considered you to be in your prime at university.

“Maybe men just don’t do it for her,” Seungmin interjects, and you don’t miss the way he glances over at Hyunjin, who’d sat rather quietly the whole night.

You’d ended up at a house party that was still going on all around you, mostly in the living room (where loud music could be heard even from the kitchen), but you were sat in a chair at the dining table, drink in front of you nearly finished, and your best friend and some of his friends around you.

Hyunjin was the one you knew the least and also found the most difficult to speak to. Maybe it was the crush you’d been developing on him, or maybe it was the fact that he was just very, very hard to get a word out of when he wasn’t in a particularly talkative mood.

“Wouldn’t blame her. We aren’t that great,” Minho looks entirely offended by Jisung’s offhanded comment next to you, as if he couldn’t believe the audacity of someone to even suggest it. Though it was all in good fun, and seconds later he’s breaking out into laughter.

You’re thankful that the conversation bleeds into another hot topic and that the boys all seem to move on from your confession, even if part of you thinks they’ll be ready to bring it up again in no time. Deciding to slip away before that happens, you excuse yourself and offer to replace everyone's drinks while you grab water.

“I’ll come with,” Hyunjin’s chair scrapes loudly, only muffled slightly by loud cheering out in the living room that makes all of you turn while he stands up, “could use the refill.”

You nod, realising very quickly that you’ve never actually been alone with Hyunjin. You shared art classes together, but he always sat on the other side of the room near one of the windows, and the few attempts you’d tried to make at conversation, always ended in you saying nothing before sitting back down defeated.

The annoyance on Hyunjin’s face is near commical when people push and stumble into you both, though it surprises you to feel him reach for your wrist and pull you further behind him to shield you. Maybe you’re overthinking it, but he seems more frustrated at people crashing into you than into him.

“Fucking hell,” you both land by the bar that’s situated ontop of a rather unstable table, an assortment of half empty drinks and buckets of ice that hold wine.

“I just want water,” you interject when he’s about to refill your wine, and while his face seems a bit confused (something which you think is really, really annoyingly cute), he doesn’t argue with you or try to convince you to keep drinking.

“Water it is,” to no ones surpise, the water bottles are the most full, Hyunjin pouring it into your cup before handing it back to you.

“Thank you,” he nods, making his own drink while you watch in silence. It feels a little awkward, but it may just be the fact that you’re staring at him whilst he’s ignoring you completely.

“How many people have you slept with?”

You nearly spit out your drink, coughing while Hyunjin immediately reacts and hits your back lightly, waiting for you to steady yourself. He’s smiling, hiding his laughter, and you begin to feel so stupid for ever struggling to say a word to him. Whilst he’s rather introverted, from what you could tell, he seemed nothing but sweet.

“Are you going to judge me?”

“No, I’m not asking so I can judge you for it,” he leans back against the table, something he maybe shouldn’t do given that it trembles slightly, his hands holding the edges.

“Six,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms in a defensive stance. He’s eyelevel with you, though his shoulder blonde hair is hiding his brown eyes, covering part of his face before he runs his hand through it.

“Isn’t that a little sad?”

Immediately you recoil, feeling not only embarassment but shame as you look away. You can see him move out of the corner of your eye, but you refuse to look until he’s hooked his fingers under your chin and forced your head up, “you’ve been with six people and not even one could make you come?”

Again, you deflate in shame though this time a little differently, understanding that he hadn’t insulted you the way it had initially sounded to you.

“I mean… I… maybe I just can’t-”

“Bullshit, don’t even try to give me that excuse,” his fingers are still holding your chin up, and you watch him bite down on his lower lip before placing his drink down on the table. He’s thinking, what of you’re not sure, but you can practically see thoughts twist in his head before he leans down and kisses you.

You don’t expect it, but it’s such a welcome surprise that you immediately melt against him. He’s electrifying you, pulling you in as he grips your waist and you fall further into him. It ends all too quickly, an embarassing sound close to a whine leaving your lips when he pulls away.

“I’ll show you if you want…” he’s teasing you, nibbling gently on your left ear before leaving a wet kiss on your neck, “I’ll make it three.”

Hyunjin walks away before you have time to react, his drink in hand as he holds it up as if to say cheers, and you’re standing there wondering if you’re hallucinating or having a very imaginative dream. You’re wrong in thinking he’s going back to the kitchen though, for you see him turn the other way towards the staircase, looking back at you one last time with a knowing smirk.

He’s inviting you.

And you can’t seem to say no.

You send Jisung a message that you’re with Hyunjin getting some air, choosing not to elaborate but saying just enough so that hopefully, he doesn’t worry too much about your lack of return and also doesn’t go looking for you (though with him, you could never be sure).

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you head upstairs, being met with a rather spacious hallway and an assortment of photos on the walls and pots of flowers and plants along the doors. You have no clue where he is and don’t really want to check in every last corner, but turns out you don’t have to, for one door opens and arms snake around your waist and pull you inside before you can say a single word in protest.

“Couldn’t resist, hmm?” the familiar voice makes you calm down, realising it’s Hyunjin that took you hostage and not a stranger, cornering you at the door that’s now kicked shut and locked. His eyes are darker, more driven with lust and you wonder if you look much the same.

“Hyunjin-” he kisses you again, effectively shutting you up as you moan against him, feeling one of his hands slide to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg to push himself closer between you. It makes you arch into him, though he forcefully presses a hand to your chest to push you back into the door.

“F-fuck me. You’ll ruin me,” he bites your neck, enough to sting but there’s a sense of pleasure that comes with it that makes the sensation rather addicting. You want him to do it again, “you think I never noticed you in class? Always looking at me but never saying anything? I was just waiting for you to speak to me.”

“Y-you noticed-”

“Hard not to notice you,” his eyes run along your body, hovering over the zipper that runs through the entirety of your dress at the front. Whilst it looks more like a decorative pieace, it also happens to be the way in and out of your tight dress that now, you realise, may also have been daringly short, “and then you show up in this.”

It’s the way he says it, so raw and rough as his hands run over the fabric, that makes you whimper again. You weren’t sexually inexperienced at all, but the way he was treating you made everything feel new again.

You get barely a second to react to him lifting you up, your legs going around his waist while the skirt of your dress rises enough for him to see your panties that match the red of your outfit, as if you’d really thought this out, “Jesus.”

He’s captivated by you, using one hand to hold you up and using the other to push the fabric further up, until your underwear is so clear to him that he sees the way the barely there lace fabric clings to your folds. You tremble at his display of strength when he holds you up, reaching for his shoulders to pull him against you.

His mouth is back on yours as he moves, eventually throwing you onto the bed with far more force than he needed to whilst he kicks his shoes off. You’re about to do the same with your heels, though his hands circle your ankles before he kisses the skin there, “leave them.”

It’s a demand you don’t say no to, watching him while he bruises and licks your inner thigh, leaving trails of kisses while your breathing becomes heavier and the room becomes hotter, “Hyunjin.”

He responds to his name easily, your dress up over your hips as his tongue glides over your clothed folds, and you’re already gripping the bedsheets roughly. He’s teasing you slowly, so painfully that you’re a whimpering mess underneath him and can barely comprehend when he’s pushed the fabric to one side, his tongue circling around your throbbing clit.

“Fuck, H-Hyunjin,” he groans, making your entire body respond as his mouth does wonders on your cunt, twisting his tongue into patterns before dipping it inside your entrance.

“You have no idea how good you taste,” and you’re inclined to believe it, if only for the way you see his eyes hungrily gaze into yours while he’s teasing the bundle of nerves gently between his teeth. Your legs push against him, forcing his head back down with your hand that grips his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind as you practically suffocate him.

It actually urges him on, if anything, to repeat what he’s doing and adjust his pace, and you clench around nothing as a familiar coil twists in your stomach that never quite goes over the edge of letting go.

“Please,” you beg, and it sounds like music to his ears. His hands grip your hips, pushing you down hard enough to bruise, and the strength he displays, seeing the way his muscle strain under his shirt and him between your legs makes you lose it.

Your entire body lets go, thighs likely crushing him between you as your body lifts off the bed, but he doesn’t let go or stop, moving with you as his hands go to you ass, kneading the skin as you grind against his lips, your orgasm tearing through you as you scream his name.

“Hyunjin… god, Hyun- fuck,” you’re shaking, near tears because his tongue won’t stop lapping over your clit, and you’re half off the bed tempting him to absolutely ravish you.

“P-please,” you’re trying to tell him it’s too much, but you’re just as desparate for him to never stop. Though he lets go with an obsence sound as you fall back down, seeing his face glisten from the little light from the moon outside.

“I’m not done with you,” you nearly tell him you don’t want him to be, but the words get caught in your throat when he starts to undress. You’d known he was muscular, if you hadn’t already before you defintiely knew it when he’d been holding you against the wall or pushed you into the bed, but seeing it was different.

His muscles were perfectly defined, creating beautiful shadows and light with the source outside, and you don’t realise how much you’re staring until he’s laughing at you, “that surprised?”

“N-no,” but it sounds rather pathetic and you can’t even try to make yourself sound more stable, for he’s taking his jeans off next, left in only his briefs that seem to strain a lot aganst his hard cock. It looks so tempting, though when you go to take his last pieace of clothing off, he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head with one hand, laying beside you.

“Don’t,” it’s another demand and you listen, legs squeezing together when he kisses you again. He’s so calculated with everything, pulling away to lean his forehead against yours, watching the way your face twists and changes in pleasure and arousal as he begins to unzip your dress.

Your tits practically spill out once the fabric allows them to, and Hyunjin can’t contain his surprise to find the metalic jewelry in both of them. It’s the first time since coming into this room that you feel like for a brief second, you have the upper hand, “like them?” you twist your body slightly, enough for them to push together whilst he’s still bound your hands together.

“You’re gonna kill me,” the zipper is completely undone, your dress now open at the front as he takes one of your nipples into your mouth. It’s foreign to him, to feel a metalic object in his mouth, but he doesn’t mind when he hears the way you start panting again.

He swears you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in his life, and he lets two of his fingers slip between your slick folds again with next to no warning, smirking when you cry his name out, “are you going to be good and come for me again?”

“Y-yes,” he grins, eyes falling onto yours to watch you, see the way your face changes as one of his fingers pushes inside you. The cold metal of his ring makes you clench, and he hisses at the feeling.

“How the hell are you going to fit my cock if you’re this tight?” he pushes the imposing digit in and out of you, agonising in his movements before he adds another. Hyunjin feels the way you relax more and more, your chest moving up and down with heavy breaths as your eyes begin to close.

He decides he doesn’t like that, sitting up in a way that allows his free hand to go around your throat, squeezing lightly. The shock makes you open your eyes, and immediately, he stops the small constriction in airflow, “good girl.”

You whimper, a crying sound that turns into a louder moan when a third finger slips inside you, “did you like that?”

There’s a blush on your cheeks when you nod, and Hyunjin makes a mental note to remember it, “so you like it rougher?”

In a way, it doesn’t surprise him, but it makes him grin as his fingers push deeper, enough for you to arch up, though you’re flat on the matress again when his hand is back on your throat, “is this okay?”

He’s asking out of concern, even if you aren’t offering up much resistance, but he stops the grip he has on you when you don’t say anything first, “yes. Please d-don’t stop.”

“Hmm, you really act like a whore,” he’s grinning, feeling you clench around his fingers at the insult and more and more, his thought that you love to be degraded very much seems to ring true.

He doesn’t warn you when his thumb finds your clit, nor do you expect it. You’d been so distracted by his fingers inside you and his insults and the hand occasionally on your throat that it was the very last thing you expected, realising how close to the edge you actually were when he teases you there.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop. Hyunjin p-please,” and how could he say no if you begged so nicely? He leans down, kissing the shell of your ear before he whispers.

“On one condition,” you’re ready to give anything, feeling tears sting at the corners of your eyes from the frustration you feel, “you ride my cock like the slut you are.”

It pushes you over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as your body pushes off the bed again, though he’s quick to push you down and hold you there with his free arm, fingers still deep inside you as your walls clench around him. His thumb is still teasing your clit, briefly stopping the motion to spit on the throbbing bundle of nerves before letting his saliva mix with your orgasm.

Your come is along his forearm and even on his thighs with the way he’d been sat, but he’s relentless on not stopping, enough to send an afterwave of another shattering orgasm that has you squirting onto him again, and you’re crying and screaming his name over and over from pleasure that’s too much.

He wonders if the whole house hears it, but honestly, he’s not that sure he cares, nor does he care how you’re spilling onto someone’s bedsheets.

“H-Hyunjin,” your tired arms dig into his biceps, tearing the skin red, making him hiss, fingers slipping out of you before he slaps your pussy, your body arching off the bed when he does, “f-fuck.”

“Open,” you’re barely able to comprehend anything, but your jaw goes slack as you let two of his fingers push in, immediately sucking on his digits and tasting yourself on your tongue, “you made such a mess, princess.”

You groan, still shaking from your orgasm though seeing the way his thighs and arms are glistening in your juices. He looks nearly just as spent, breathing heavily, his hair clinging to his skin by his neck and forehead, but you don’t think you look any better.

“Let’s take this off,” he helps you out of your dress fully, your underwear following quickly before he strips naked before you. Your jaw practically drops again, seeing his cock spring free and slap his stomach. You feel yourself get more aroused, and it doesn’t surprise you to feel some of your arousal stick to your thighs.

“You look ruined,” he’s grinning, hand cupping your cheek as he admires the streaks of mascara and mess of light pink lipstick on your face. You still look beautiful.

You push your body up to sit on the edge of the bed where he stands, eye-level with his waist as your hands go to his hips. He seems to know what you’re doing, but he thinks he prefers you in a different position, “knees.”

It’s like you’re possessed, for you’re on your knees in an instant, your heels against your ass while the wooden floor digs into your skin, “open your mouth.”

You do as you’re told, looking up at him just as he spits into your mouth again. When you’re about to swallow it, he tsks, stopping you, “stick your tongue out.”

When you do, he’s grinning, seeing how eager you are to please him makes his cock twitch as he lays the tip onto your tongue. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone respond so eagerly, but you wrap your mouth around him immediately, eyes looking up at him wide and innocently.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can go without fucking you.

“Good girl,” you love the praise, even as your jaw aches slightly from his girth. His cock is long and thick, your mouth far too small, though you manage to push yourself about halfway before you’re chocking.

Hyunjin’s hand goes to your hair, tugging it harshly to make you look up, and it’s that innocent look again, sucking on his cock like you’re starved, that makes him lose all reserve, yanking you back so his cock springs free again. You don’t get much of a warning when he leans down, hands going to your waist as he lifts you up rather roughly, making you yelp as your arms go around him.

His cock is pressed against your folds, making you both moan as the tip grazes your entrance. You’re coating him in your slick, and he doesn’t waste a second to fall back on the bed first with you on top of him. Your small fingers find his cock whilst you lift yourself up, letting his tip push just past your aching hole as you let out a mewl. He’s barely a centimeter inside you and already, you feel painfully tight, “go slow… it’s okay.”

You nod, feeling him steady you by your hips to hold you up if needed, and even though it pains him considerably, he’s letting you choose the pace as he mostly stays unmoving. His cock feels like it’s splitting you open, clenching around him and making him hiss when you do, but you will yourself to relax and slowly inch yourself up and down on the bit of his cock that you’ve managed to fit inside you.

“Hmm look at you… you’re being so good,” the praise makes you eager and willing, and he feels the way you respond to his words, slowly going an inch further.

You don’t notice his cock fully inside you until you realise you’re fully straddling his lap, his head rolling back just seeing the way he’d disappeared in you. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, having you above him, naked and wanting.

It’s absolutely agony for him to see you slowly bounce up and down, getting used to his length and moaning every time he bottoms out, your tits moving more and more the faster you go, and he reaches to pinch your nipples, teasing the pierced flesh as you whimper before slapping the skin.

“F-fuck,” he wants to move, be rougher, but he doesn’t unless you tell him he can, until you tell him you want more, “m-more.”

It’s like music to his ears, and he immediately begins to meet your thrusts, using the strength in his body to be rougher, his hands finding your ass and giving it a daring slap to see how you react. Your hands fall to his chest, steadying yourself while you bounce on his cock, and he slaps your ass one more time, harder, feeling the way your walls clench tightly around him when he does.

“You like that?” you nod, a tired yes leaving your lips, and Hyunjin decides that maybe, he’ll let you rest a bit. Though his idea of rest is rather different from most, “sweetheart, let me.”

Feeling his cock leave you nearly makes you cry, but he’s turning you around so your back is to him, slipping himself back inside your pussy without thinking about it much, as if it's molded for him. You’re not sure what he’s planning as he sits up slightly, letting your back fall to his chest, pushing your legs up against your stomach so you’re folded against him, allowing him more control of how deep he goes inside you whilst his hands hold your ankles by your heels.

You realise quickly that Hyunjin had changed the position because it would allow him to thrust into you faster, and he’s immediately relentless with his pace, making you cry out his name as every angled movement of his cock hits inside you beautifully.

Your tits bounce deliciously, his mouth sucking hickeys onto your shoulder to hide his groans, one arm moving to hold you under your knees while the other finds your throat again, “you’re gonna come on my cock.”

It’s not a request but rather you being told, and you meekly nod as your fingers go over those around your neck, daring him to squeeze tighter. He does, fucking into you harder, hard enough that you wonder if his hips will bruise you, but your senses are overwhelmed and you can’t help it when your free hand goes to your clit, teasing the nerve just like Hyunjin had done earlier.

It makes him lose it, seeing you pleasure yourself with his cock deep inside you and his hand around your neck, and he’s almost relieved when your body stops moving before it crashes into your third (or fourth?) orgasm of the night, screaming his name so loudly that he knows it was heard downstairs just as his cum spills inside you, coating your walls as you clench and twist in his arms, your sweat covered back sticking to his chest.

Hyunjin slows, but he’s still thrusting into you, more languid as he pushes his cum inside you, and you let out a strained moan when you see him slip out of you, the mess of both your orgasms on his cock and spilling out of you whilst you try to regain your breathing.

It’s peaceful first, as you lay next to Hyunjin trying to kick your heels off, though you eventually give up and he does it for you with a little laugh, though he's interrupted with a knock on the door.

“Hyunjin, what the fuck did you do?” it’s not angry, but you recognise the teasing voice of your best friend and you immediately want to disappear. You’re convinced you can never leave this room again, or if you do, it’ll have to be through the window.

“I was only trying to help,” you look next to you, about to hit Hyunjin for the way he’s teasing yet the way he lays there, so ethereal and practically glowing from the aftermath still panting, you can’t bring yourself to.

“Ah, well I take it it was succesful?” there’s laughter, all good natured but it makes you hide in Hyunjin’s chest anyway, and the blonds heart practically melts seeing you push into him.

“It would be very rude of me not to have been!”

He kisses your forehead, the laughter fading away and whilst you know they’re only well intending, you know you’ll never live any of it down. If not from Jisung, then definitely from Minho, from what you could gather.

Or Seungmin.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at Hyunjin, seeing the very real concern in his eyes and it takes your breath away. Your silence, however, worries him, and his face immediately turns into a frown, “did I hurt you?”

“No! No, I’m just… tired.”

He nods, understanding because he feels much the same, but he doesn’t really want to keep you in this mess.

“Can you get up for me?”

You sit up slowly, his fingers running along your arm in patterns as he urges you on, smiling, “let’s clean you a bit. I’ll drive you to mine and you can shower? I’ll order us some food. How does that sound?”

Honestly, you could really use the meal. That, and food always tasted better when it was free.

“I like pizza,” Hyunjin laughs, nodding as he does his best to clean up the mess on your body with the ruined sheet that he’ll have to throw on the floor for the laundry (or even burn).

“Pizza it is.”

got nothing to say aside from feedback, comments, reblogs etc always appreciated and yeah... i got no defense hyunjin has me in a chokehold it's getting toxic fr

masterlist || nav

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #straykidsland #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #smut #minors dni #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #smut stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin smut

1K notes · View notes

noona-is-afk · 2 months

Text

Completed Dramas, Ranked

Masterlist of all the dramas I have finished and my rankings from 1-10. Keep in mind I don't usually finish dramas that I don't like, so most of these reviews will be 6+ ratings.

Recently added: My Dearest, Wedding Impossible, Vagabond, Love to Hate You

Twenty Five Twenty One - 10/10 Finished 2023-08 I will never recover from this drama. I cried and laughed and fell so in love with the entire cast. The friendship between the two female leads is beautiful. Nam Joo-hyuk the actor that you are. That ending will be permanently etched on my heart. Another incredible display of how talented female writers are in kdramas.

Favourite line: “It’s love. I love you, Hee-do. I don’t need a rainbow.” Tags: melodrama, sports, friends to lovers

Doom At Your Service - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 Cried my eyes out. Park Bo Young is too cute. The whole premise is so good and they do such a good job pacing it and throwing in twists to keep it interesting. Also has made me a huge Seo In Guk stan, the man is crazy talented at playing a villain with a heart of gold.

Favourite line: "Love me to the point that you will want to destroy the world for me." Tags: fantasy, melodrama, enemies to lovers

Reborn Rich - 10/10 Finished 2023-09 There has never been a better revenge drama. Succession meets time travel fantasy meets enemies to lovers romcom meets 90s period piece. Song Joong Ki absolutely nails it once again.

Favourite line: "There are 24 hours in a day and 365 days in a year. They say time is fair to everyone. However, time isn’t fair. Just like everything else in this world." Tags: revenge, enemies to lovers, time travel, 90s

My Name - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 Despite being traumatized by the ending, this is still one of my fave dramas. The acting. The fight choreography. The romance. 10000/10. Pil-do might be one of my favourite male leads ever. I love me a soft boy who would do anything to protect his strong, independent woman.

Favourite line: "Is life supposed to be fun?" Tags: revenge, action, enemies to lovers, gangs vs cops

Romance Is a Bonus Book - 10/10 Finished 2023 -07 So rewatchable. Truly the coziest kdrama out there. A great start into noona romances too. Also the line where she talks about how it was so nice to be called by her name, instead of “mom”, “honey”, “you” really stays in my heart. Also started my obsession with Jong-Suk.

Favourite line: "Instead of 'I love you,' soseki natsume said, 'the moon is beautiful." Tags: friends to lovers, noona romance, workplace romance, romcom, love triangle

Extraordinary Attorney Woo - 10/10 Finished 2023-08 Absolute perfection. Jun Ho is the new standard. Deals with autism in a surprisingly modern way. Some interesting episodes on feminism in the workplace too.

Favourite line: "All my thoughts tend to center around me, so I make people close to me lonely. I don’t know when or why I do that. And I don’t know what I can do to stop it." Tags: legal drama, autism, workplace romance

Captivating the King - 10/10 Finished 2024-03-03 Incredible directing. Best acting performance of the year surely from Jo Jung Suk. Perfect if you liked Kings Affection. So much tension, little bit gay in a great way, and the palace politics are actually so interesting. All the characters are very morally grey and make for such interesting stories.

Favourite quote: “I love to win but I cannot put up with boredom.” Tags: FL disguised as man, historical drama, enemies to lovers

Nevertheless - 10/10 Finished 2023-06 Female gaze times a million. And the supporting cast is one of my faves (except for the TAs, they were boring as all hell). It’s also one of the few kdramas that tackle a relationship that’s kind of “friends with benefits” and you can very much tell it was written by a woman.

I get why some people really don’t like this one, but I’m a big believer in not needing the main characters to be good people for it to be a good piece of art. Everyone is very flawed in this (nearing on toxic), but it tells a lot of important stories that I really connected with.

Favourite line: "I know it will cause me pain again. Nevertheless..." Tags: friends with benefits, college drama, red flag ml, love triangle

Hot Stove League - 10/10 Finished 2024-03 Baseball is life. Definitely the best sports drama out there, although it’s a close race with Love All Play. This drama has no romance, so I was really surprised that it hooked me so much. But the drama is amazing. The villains are so good. And mostly I just love this goddamn sport man. Even if you don’t like sport, I think you’ll enjoy the twists and turns and found family dynamics of this one. Also Park Eun Bin never misses.

Favourite quote: "Everyone's situation is different, we all fight with the resources that are available to us. If we start listing excuses, we'll lose again in the same situation." Tags: sport drama, found family, no romance

It's Okay Not to be Okay - 10/10 Finished 2023-07 This was a slow start for me because I found the main female lead so annoying at first. But trust me she grows on you. Literally one of my fave dramas now. The emotions are SO real, I was crying constantly. Very attached to this little trio now. And the parallels of the beginning and ending are soooo good. All the characters have so much character growth, some of the best writing I’ve seen in a kdrama.

Favourite line: "Your body is honest. When you're in physical pain, you cry. But the heart is a liar. It stays quiet even when it's hurting." Tags: enemies to lovers, autism, mental health

Alchemy of Souls - 10/10 Finished 2023-10 Absolutely binged this. Such a fun watch. The lore is really cool too. My only thing is I LOVED the female lead from S1 and it felt weird not to have her in the second season. Also second season felt a bit rushed on the ending. Otherwise perfection.

Favourite line: "If you stabe me, then I wil die as the one who released the assassin. If you withdraw your sword, I will make you another promise." Tags: fantasy, enemies to allies to lovers, magic, love triangle

Love to Hate You - 10/10 Finished 2024-04 Incredible binge watch. Only 10 episodes, and all about 40 min or less. They don't get distracted by any unnecessary side stories and really just focus on the characters. Both the ML and FL are incredible, and the secondary couple is just as cute. I will forever remember the look that he gives her when she finally says I love you back. A great mix of comedy and swoony romance.

Favourite line: "I can stand other people hating me, but I can’t live with hating myself." Tags: enemies to lovers, idol drama, fake dating, badass FL x soft boi ML

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo - 9.5/10 Finished 2023-08 Too cute for it’s own good. Male lead is adorable. Only docking points for some of the weird mentions of the female lead’s weight and her being ‘ugly’. Otherwise the perfect drama. Great for a light watch as there isn’t much drama between the couple really, they communicate well and most of the tension is in their family and career.

Favourite line: "You fool, I like you. Not as a friend, but as a woman. If I don't see you, I get curious. If you're depressed, I get upset. If you smile, it makes me happy. If you're sick, I get worried. It's driving me crazy. It means I like you, doesn't it?" Tags: friends to lovers, childhood friends, sports drama, college drama, romcom

Descendants of the Sun - 9.5/10 Finished 2023-09 Beautiful. So sad. Chemistry is insane between the main leads. I cried so much. Also the friendships between all the characters are really great. The plot too is amazing. Only docking it a half point because some of the military propaganda is a bit much for me, otherwise perfect.

Favourite line: "Regarding the kiss, what should I do? Should I apologize for that? Should I confess my feeling to you?" Tags: exes to lovers, military drama, melodrama

Vincenzo - 9/10 Very addicting, plot is crazy fun. Leads have so much chemistry. Some episodes ran on a bit though. Tags: revenge, legal drama, workplace romance

The King's Affection - 9/10 Love the premise. Essentially a gayer Mulan plotline. Rowoon is cute AND badass. Also can’t believe this is the same Park Eun Bin as Attorney Woo?? The range!!! Tags: fl disguised as a man, historical drama, kinda gay

Love All Play - 9/10 Only docking a point because Taejun’s whole family deserved the shit beat out of them instead of a stupid redemption arc. Otherwise the perfect romance angst. Taejun is THE green flag. Tags: sports drama, college drama, partners to lovers

Soundrack #1 - 9/10 Beautiful. Short. Simple. Some of my favourite leads. Great winter watch if you’re feeling like some cozy, friends to lovers vibes. Tags: friends to lovers, winter, music

Mr Queen - 9/10 Really good, really funny. Just wish the ending was more gay. Tags: body swap, time travel, historical drama, comedy

Start-up - 9/10 I can’t believe how underrated this one is. First love triangle story that actually had me questioning who I wanted to be endgame. The male leads are written so beautifully and they are both so complex and interesting. And the female lead has you rooting for her so much. I also really loved how they wrote such an insecure male lead, the character development was amazing to watch and Nam Joo Hyuk crushed it as per usual. Tags: workplace romance, paid to date you, love triangle

Happiness - 9/10 Really really good. I always thought it would be interesting to get a zombie story post pandemic. I just think some of the directing wasn’t great near the end. Some of the scenes just needed to hit a bit harder for me, considering I know how good this cast is in other dramas. Tags: zombies, friends to lovers, fake married, cohabitation

Dr Romantic 2 & 3 - 9/10 If you like Grey's Anatomy for the crazy end of season events, this is the show for you. Wil ride, amazing chemistry with the leads, loveable found family. Tags: medical drama, found family, rivals to lovers

Hospital Playlist - 9/10 If you like Grey's Anatomy for the relationships and friendship however, this is the show for you. Medical stuff is sometimes boring in this one, but the found family and ships 100% make up for it. Also there's like 100 episodes of behind the scenes to watch and the cast is too cute. Tags: friends to lovers, slow burn romance, medical drama, found family, ensemble cast, music

Castaway Diva - 8/10 Loved the first 10 episodes. But felt it didn't wrap up great, especially with the romance. Tags: stranded on a desert island, music, childhood friends, finding your first love

Marry My Husband - 8/10 It's good, but kind of burnt out on revenge dramas with time travel. Villains were great though and Na In Woo is adorable. Tags: time travel, revenge, ml falls first

My Dearest - 8/10 The tension between these leads is unmatched. Also just a gorgeous show. Little too dramatic for me. Like after the tenth time they just missed each other, I wanted to pull my hair out. Also desperate for a little epilogue in the last episode. Tags: romance drama, historical, fated love

Oh My Ghost - 8/10 I love Jo Jung Suk, and with Park Bo Young??? Match made in heaven. I’m desperate for them to get on screen together again. Fun fantasy elements. Both characters have so many flaws but they develop so well. Tags: enemies to lovers (ish), ghost possession, restaurant drama

Welcome to Samdal-ri - 8/10 For the Hometown Cha Cha Cha fans for sure. Definitely under utilized Ji Chang Wook (where are the epic kisses pls), but overall the leads had incredible chemistry. 2nd ML was annoying as hell though. Give all the awards to the little girl. Tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, middle-aged drama

Suspicious Partner - 8/10 Super cute. SO much chemistry. Bit too melodramatic for me and the second female lead is a bit one-dimensional. Really funny though and a decent legal drama. Tags: legal drama, enemies to lovers, workplace romance, cohabitation

Wedding Impossible - 8/10 Enemies to lovers plus a fake relationship to hide your bestie is gay. It's mostly really fun and silly, the FL is one of my favourite korean actors, but it falls a part a bit in the middle of the season. Would have been saved with more scenes with Do Han and exploring what it means to be gay in Korea. Even just more scenes where he's happy. Great finale and fluff throughout for our main leads though. Tags: Enemies to lovers, fake wedding, beard for my gay best friend, idol story

Melting Me Softly - 8/10 Really great premise and the chemistry of the leads is unmatched. Don’t be fooled by the branding, this is very much more of a rom com than a melodrama. Really liked the directing too, beautiful show. Tags: time travel, shared fate, workplace romance

Revenge of Others - 8/10 You know I love a good revenge thriller. Very good series, incredibly gritty for a high school drama. Twist at the end was kind of meh though. And also wish there was more romance as the leads were so cute. Tags: little to no romance, high school drama, revenge

While You Were Sleeping - 8/10 Really great premise. The main trio are all so good. I just think some of the romance drama near the end was a bit annoying. Shoulda been like 3 episodes shorter, just got a bit tiresome. Tags: shared fate, fantasy (ish), legal drama

Fight For My Way - 8/10 Very cute friends to lovers. Great chemistry between the leads. Very similar vibe to Weighlifting Kim Bok Joo, just wish the last episode was a bit more impactful. Tags: friends to lovers, sports, college friends

King the Land - 8/10 Very cute and fluffy. Love both leads. Liked how there was no unnecessary drama between them. Really healthy relationship. Just not my favourite plot of all time, hasn’t hooked me like other shows. Tags: workplace romance, chaebol ml, hotel management

Crash Landing on You - 8/10 Definitely hooks you. Starts to drag in the last 5 episodes with too much melodrama. But I loved how they switched it up mid-way through. Really engaging. Also the chemistry with the leads is unreal, makes sense that they’re married in real life now. Tags: found family, north korea, enemies to lovers, melodrama

Moon in the Day - 8/10 Very solid fantasy romance. Found it a bit boring though in the middle. Kim Young Dae is defs underrated though. Hopefully this will kickstart him as a lead now. Tags: fantasy, loved each other in a past life, revenge, enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again

Sh**ting Stars - 8/10 Like 90% fluff. Also cool to see the behind the scenes of k actor management. Lee Song Kyung literally plays enemies to friends to lovers perfectly. Nearly same love story as Dr Romantic and Bok Joo, love to see it. Tags: enemies to friends to lovers, college friends, acting drama

Business Proposal - 8/10 It’s pretty good, but very trope-y. If you like a chaebol romance or workplace romance you’ll love it. It just didn’t surprise me that much, so very middle of the road. One of the few times that I actually was more obsessed with the secondary love story than the main. Tags: workplace romance, fl pretending to be someone else

Let's Talk About Chu - 8/10 Kind of ridiculous but surprisingly deep and heartwarming. Loved the chemistry of all the couples. Tags: sex positive, queer secondary couple, friends with benefits, taiwanese

Destined with You - 7/10 Another drama where the chemistry of the leads really carry the show. Also Rowoon is so talented. I like the premise, but the execution was kinda messy and the first few episodes kinda drag until they let Rowoon being a goofy boi. Must watch though if you love fluff and soft bois. Tags: enemies to lovers, love potion, fantasy, past life, betrayal

W: Two Worlds - 7/10 Despite wanting to rewatch this show constantly, it is kind of a hot mess. Really fun though, just the plot is like a yo-yo. Insane chemistry with the leads. Tags: fantasy, love across universes (webtoon comes to life)

Lovestruck in the City - 7/10 Great show and then the last episode is just like really a bummer. The main couple are super cute though and I like the jumping back to the beach town. Good summer watch! Not sure I really like the mockumentary style, but it’s quite cute. Tags: mockumentary, short episodes, summer romance, exes to lovers

So I Married the Anti-Fan - 7/10

The beginning and middle are really good and cute. Ending is just kind of rushed and feels a bit disjointed from the plot. Overall fun rom com though!

Tags: rom com, enemies to lovers, kpop idol

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon - 7/10 It’s very cute, but just way too fluffy for me, especially near the end. It’s a good light watch if you’re looking for something like that. Highly recommend watching the behind the scenes of this series too, because Park Hung Sik is just so in love with Park Bo Young and it’s adorable. Tags: workplace romance, superpowers, comedy

Hometown Cha Cha Cha - 7/10 This was my very first drama so I really need to rewatch it as I don’t know if my review is just because it’s aged in my brain. But it’s very cute, very wholesome. Supporting cast is incredible. My only real issue with it is I don’t love the female lead as much as I like other leads, just didn’t root for her as much as I would have liked. Tags: small town, enemies to lovers, found family

Forecasting Love and Weather - 7/10 Bit boring, but the chemistry is unreal between the leads. Really good twist near the beginning that still sticks with me. Also love seeing Song Kang as little puppy dog heart of gold boi. Tags: noona romance, workplace romance

See You in My 19th Life - 7/10 Love the premise and the leads are amazing. Female lead in particular nails the role. Just a bit too melodramatic for me. Another one where the side characters really make the show, especially her sister. Tags: past lives, childhood friends, murder mystery

Vagabond - 7/10

Great action thriller, the political plot had me the whole time. Suzy never misses. But it ended on a cliffhanger and I wish I’d known that before. Especially since Season 2 hasn’t been announced 😭 Otherwise the romance is great, ML is incredible.

Tags: action romance, enemies to lovers, spy thriller

My Holo Love - 5/10 Kinda just meh. Like it was cute and fun but nothing special. Female lead was really good though. Also I do like the plot around face blindness, just not super memorable as a show in general. Tags: mystery, ml shut in

Love Alarm - 3/10 Too cringe and immature for me I think. Interesting premise though. Song Kang is really good in it (although he plays a massive red flag again lol), I just really didn’t like the other male lead to be honest. Tags: love triangle, fated love, fantasy (ish), red flag ml

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