#he knows blurry wife is gonna make a blurry exit

[themegalosaurus]

lot of chat on my dash about dean/impala, lisa being upset by dean/impala, but why do u guys think blurry wife was not at sam’s deathbed

#party city sam in the garage sorry #that's why he's sad in that scene #/i just can't quit you/ #he knows blurry wife is gonna make a blurry exit #with that said #DO we know who dean jr mother is #we do NOT #brrm brrm #deanpala #sampala #spn carfucker week #spn crack

[watermelonlovershigh]

You Get Sick in the Back of an Uber

AN: so this was a story i have had in my drafts for like three months and just never found motivation to finish it. i decided to finish this first out of my drafts because it was one of the ones that had the most already written for it. unlike some of my others that don't have much written yet. and this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and ended the end with no dialogue and shorted the story. but i guess that's fine because the main part of this was the uber incident and not necessary the aftercare. (i just love to always include aftercare whether its with sex or getting sick. unless its a blurb) @harryhoney-bee suggested number 1. on my voting post so thank you for requesting i finish this one shot idea that was in my drafts.

This story contains: puke, drunken person, caring husband

{ husband!harry - dad!harry - Grammys 2021 Harry - 4 kids (any age you imagine) }

word count: 1765

When you drink too much at the Grammys, you end up having to get sick in the uber ride home and Harry cares for you.

-------------------------

Back Story-

After the Grammys, Harry and I decided to go to the little after party that was being held for the Grammy attendees. We knew we couldn't stay too long because we had to get back home to our kids. They were currently with our babysitter but she couldn't stay all night. She has to go home at some point. So we made sure to watch the time.

At the afterparty, drinks were flowing. I haven't drank in a while due to the fact I had been pregnant not too long ago. This was the first night I was allowed to drink and I decided to do just that. Harry was aware of me drinking and promised to watch and take care of me. Though we were at this afterparty for him, he wanted me to let loose and have some fun as well.

But what he wasn't expecting was for me to drink the amount I did. I didn't mean to go over board. It just kind of happened. People handing out drinks left and right and next thing I knew, I was drunk. Not tipsy, drunk. When Harry noticed how drunk I was, he decided it's best to go home.

And because Harry also had drank some alcohol, he wasn't in a state to drive either. By no means was he as drunk as me though. Maybe just tipsy but he didn't want to risk it. So he decided to call an uber for us.

--------------------

Current-

We're sitting in the back of the uber on our way home. It's about an hour drive since the city is crowded with traffic due to the Grammys. Right about now is when I regret drinking any alcohol tonight. Because I haven't drank in over a year, my body isn't use to the poison running through my veins. So you could say I'm a lightweight now. My head is throbbing. My vision is blurry. My stomach is turning. Lets just say I regret all my decisions tonight that lead to me feeling this way.

"Harrrrry I don't feel good." I manage to slur out.

"You probably should have stuck to champagne instead of vodka my love." Harry responds, while stroking my hair out of my face in a gentle manner.

Another 10 minutes pass and I'm feeling very nauseous. I'm trying to focus on my breathing but it's not working.

"Harry my stomach hurts." I whisper with hooded eyes.

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Harry questions with panic.

I nod my head and hear Harry asking the driver if he can pull over.

"Can you pull over? My wife is feeling ill." Harry frantically questions the uber driver up front.

"I'm sorry sir but this freeway is packed and there is no way I can get to the side of the road right now." the driver says with a bit of an attitude.

Hearing that made me and Harry both start to panic.

"Well do you have any sick bags in here?" my husband asks.

"Sorry I don't." the driver retorts in a uncaring tone. What kind of uber driver doesn't carry sick bags for when drunks potentially need a ride but feel like they are going to be sick?

I just barley hear Harry let out a frustrated sigh and turn to me.

"Try and relax love. Take deep breaths for me, alright." Harry whispers while rubbing my back as I'm slumped over his body, too disoriented to even hold my head up.

About 3 minutes later, I feel vomit rise up my throat. There isn't much I can to do. The driver already said he couldn't pull over, nor does he have sick bags. I sit up from my slouched position and clasp a hand over my mouth. My legs are bouncing up and down. I'm trying desperately not to puke but I'm doing a poor job. Harry is sitting up with me, trying to comfort me but his words are all a blur at this point.

"If you have to be sick darling, let it out. I'll pay to get this uber cleaned, okay." Harry states in my ear. I know he'd rather not have me puke on the floor of the uber, right beside him, but he can tell I'm struggling and in discomfort.

Hearing those words was all the conformation I needed. I remove my hand from my mouth and let out a gush of alcoholic bile spew from my mouth and onto the backseat floor board. Harry gathers my hair in his hands so it's not in my face. My vomit splatters all over my legs and on the bottom of Harry's Gucci suit. I'd feel terrible about that if I wasn't so out of it, but my mind is a mushed up blur.

"Shhh, that's it. You're alright." Harry reassures me. The uber driver lets out a sigh of disgust, but this is truly his fault that I'm throwing up in his uber right now anyways.

Heave after heave, I let out more of the alcohol that was poisoning my system, right onto the floor. It's not a pretty sight. I'm having a cold sweat and my body is trembling. Though Harry has a weak stomach, when it comes to his wife (me) or his kids, he can always handle a bit of throw up. Or a lot like currently. It's like a fatherly/husband instinct that comes over him and he feels only adrenaline, not yuck.

Finally I feel my stomach relax and I sit up, breathing heavy with vomit dripping down my chin. Without thinking, I wipe it off with the back of my hand and smear it on my already ruined dress. "Feeling better?" Harry asks in a low tone.

"Mhmm." I hum, not really feeling like talking. My drunken brain has cleared up some from the majority of the alcohol being out of my system, but I still feel the after affects drinking brings. I just lean my head on Harry's shoulder for the rest of the ride home and allow the cool breeze to blow on my face. The uber driver did us all a favor by rolling the windows down so we didn't suffocate on the nasty smell of my sick.

---------------------

After-

When we arrived home, Harry payed the uber driver, not giving much of a tip and told him that he'd have someone clean his car out in the morning. As well as a half assed apology for my incident beings it could have been prevented. Then carefully, Harry lifted me out the uber and carried me into our Los Angeles home. Good thing our kids were all asleep because they shouldn't have to see their mother like this. Covered in puke and half drunk.

Harry took me to our bathroom and quickly ran down stairs to pay our babysitter, hoping she didn't question my appearance when she saw my state as we came through the front door. She didn't thankfully and left soon after her check was handed to her. Harry came back up to where he left me and helped me clean up and get ready for bed.

He stripped us of our vomit covered clothes and helped me into the big walk-in shower we have in our master bathroom. Then after he delicately washed our bodies along with my hair, he helped us out and dried us off. We brushed our teeth, me with the help of my husband because I was still a bit dizzy. After we're clean of sick and smelt fresh, he helped me put some panties and a t-shirt over my nude body and boxers on himself; just incase our kids woke up and needed us for whatever reason.

Harry helped me into our large bed and tucked me in, bending down to kiss my forehead. Then he walked down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and a bucket incase I needed to be sick again at some point through-out the rest of the early morning. When he had all the items he intended to grab, Harry came back to our bedroom where I was already passed out with sleep.

So he just set the water on my night stand and the bucket on the floor, beside my side of the bed. Then Harry quietly exited our room and went to each of our child's bedrooms to make sure they were fine and still asleep like they should be, which they thankfully were.

When everything was done and taken care of, Harry turned the bedroom lights out and slipped in the covers with me. He helped my body scoot over and I cuddled into his warm body. I didn't realize it in my state of sleep but I knew when I awoke, I'll be thinking about how grateful I am to have a wonderful husband like Harry.

He takes such good care of me. He didn't get upset that I drank too much on his special night and accidently got wasted. He never once got upset that I basically got throw up on his expensive suit tonight in the uber. He didn't get annoyed that he had to shower both me and him past midnight, though he was exhausted. Harry loves taking care of me (and our kids) and wouldn't wish for any other life. Even when his life becomes chaotic and stressful. Harry loves his family dearly and his family love him just as much or more.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry styles sicfic #sicfic #harry styles grammys #grammys 2021 #harry styles comfort #soft!harry #husbandandwife #harry styles uber

[amphxtrite]

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: light angst (sad pietro).

summary: pietro has worries about potentially becoming a father, so you hep him realize everything will be alright.

a/n: my first marvel fic, sorry if I messed up the russian.

word count: 1.8k

enjoy <3

blyad’ - fuck, printsessa - princess, moya lyubov' - my love, krasivaya - beautiful, dorogoy - darling, ya tebya lyublyu - I love you, zhena - wife

__________________________________________

“I can’t believe the captain is making me practice physical combat like I can’t take someone down with my mind.” Wanda groans, holding her sore shoulder in her hand as the two of you exit the training room.

“You know he does it just in case Wanda, besides it’s good to know.” You smile, repeating the same line for what seemed like the tenth time today.

“It’s not like my powers are going to just disappear y/n, besides I strongly dislike sparring.”

“You just don’t like it when Steve calls you out for using your powers.” You smirk.

“That was one time!” Wanda groans, murmuring a couple curses under her breath.

“Anyways, I was talking to Fury about the next mission and—”

Your sentence is cut short as the wind is knocked out of your stomach and the air around you begins to blur, terrified you latch onto the person carrying you.

“Blyad’ Pietro steal your girlfriend at your own time!” Wanda seethes.

But you can barely hear her groan of annoyance as a soft chuckle brings your eyes up to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Hello Printsessa, coincidence bumping into you here.” A familiar sokovian accent greets you.

“We live in the same building Pietro, you can’t do this every time you see me—” You squeal as the blonde picks up the pace.

“You know you love it, moya lyubov'.” He sighs with a smirk, pressing a long kiss to your cheek.

“Besides, you look ever so beautiful in my arms.” Pietro teases, pausing for a moment to nuzzle his nose to yours and take in the sight of your breathless self clutching onto his neck for dear life.

“Don’t look at me like that I-I’m trying to be mad at you.” You groan, glancing away only to find Pietro still staring at you with soft eyes, like you were his world.

“Alright, you win Piet. You’re going to make me melt.” You mutter, covering your face with your hands to disguise your deep blush, but Pietro had already seen it.

Grinning proudly to himself, he paces down to the living room and drops you gently on the couch before running off again.

“So kiddo, how was training today?” Clint asks nonchalantly, gratefully turning away from his conversation with Tony.

“Well, we finally got Wanda to spar without her powers for once, so I see that as a win.” You shrug with a laugh as Pietro arrives again with a blanket to toss over you.

“That’s good, the kid needs to learn, she can’t always use her ‘mind thing.’” Clint shrugs.

“Try telling her that.” You smirk.

A voice clearing abruptly cuts off Clint’s next sentence.

“Hey speedy, anyone ever say you look like a suburban dad with those tousled locks.” Tony comments sarcastically, eyeing Pietro’s slightly overgrown hair.

“Oh leave him alone Tones, he’s been on a mission for the past couple weeks.” You sigh, playfully pushing the brunette.

“Just saying.” Tony murmurs quietly under his breath.

You roll your eyes, but smile fondly at the thought of Pietro as a father, cradling a small child in his arms.

Glancing up at Pietro, you smile, but you’re met with a different expression.

Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Pietro’s eyes cast away from you, as if he was trying to bore a hole in the wall.

“Is everything alright speedy?” You question softly, resting your hand on his arm.

Your heart clenches as he flinches slightly, turning his gaze back to you.

“Yes— yes of course krasivaya.” He smiles weakly, attempting to sound cheerful, but the break in his voice was evident.

“Um— I’m feeling kind of tired, I’ll see you guys later.” You excuse yourself, nodding to Clint and Tony as you take Pietro’s hand.

“Alright, but remember tonight’s movie night so don’t eat too much before nine, we’re ordering pizza.” Clint calls as you begin to walk away.

“Alright old man, we’ll keep it in mind.” You laugh, pulling Pietro out of the living room.

“Oh she’s getting it tonight.” Tony laughs as Clint rolls his eyes.

“Watch it, the kid looked kind of upset.” Clint sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, sorry Katniss.” Tony chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

Refusing to let go of Pietro’s hand, you reach the door to his room and pull him inside, finally releasing your grip and taking a deep breath.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really up Piet?” You sigh, taking his hands into yours.

Pietro’s eyes are downcast at the floor beneath him, glancing from side to side. For a moment, no one moves, you practically hold your breath for a moment as Pietro fidgets with your fingers and mentally debates saying anything.

When Pietro finally lifts his head, he reveals blurry blue eyes with tears welled up in the corners. “Printssesa...”

Your heart drops to your stomach as the streams fall down his cheeks, you quickly lift your hand to dry them.

“Printsessa, how could I ever become a father?” He mumbles softly, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth as he tries to fight back his on-coming tears.

“Of course you could be a father Piet, you’d be an amazing dad!” You smile softly, lifting Pietro’s chin so he’s facing you again.

His lips pull up into a weak smile, but his downhearted eyes suggested there was more to it.

“Piet?” You whisper softly. “Please. You can trust me.” You murmur, lifting his hand to press a kiss to his fingers. 

The blue eyed blonde takes a deep breath and shuffles around on his feet, avoiding eye contact as your gaze softens.

“I-I don’t know dorogoy. You shouldn’t have to see me like this I apologize.” Pietro sighs, slowly trying to turn himself away from you.

“W-What? No. Piet, you’re upset. Please as long as you’re willing to tell me, I’m here to listen and help.” You smile, taking Pietro’s calloused fingers into your hand and squeezing gently.

Pietro chuckles softly and squeezes back.

“Thank you krasivaya. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Pietro mumbles, pulling you into his arms and sniffling against your head.

“Please Piet, I think I’m the one who got lucky. The cute speedster with the perfect smile.” You smirk, nuzzling your nose into his chest.

“Yes, I suppose you did.” He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Pietro clears his throat, letting out a long sigh and taking in a seep breath.

“What I mean, about being a father of course, is how could I possibly manage it.” he starts, clutching you closer to him.

“Y/n, I lost my father when I was ten, I hold onto any scrap of a memory I can hold of him but they’re slowly fading. Ever since I’ve been reckless, stupid, and childish. I almost died y/n, how could I possibly take care of children when I can barely take care of myself.” Pietro sighs and takes another deep breath.

“Truth be told I’m still much of a child myself, I couldn’t leave you with children because I died trying to prove something to myself. I couldn’t bear knowing I’d failed you and our children as a father.” Pietro finishes in a low murmur, allowing his tears to flow freely as he expressed his deepest fear and insecurity.

“Printsessa, you’ve helped me learn how to slow down and appreciate my life, but I’m still far from perfect. It’s hard for me to imagine being a father when I can see myself screwing everything up for the person who makes my life better.” He continues, gently pulling back from your arms to show the sincerity he held.

Your heart warms at the love Pietro held for you, but your stomach drops when learn his fear. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him towards you again, rest your forehead against his and gently clear your voice.

“Perhaps we’re not talking about the same Pietro love.” You comment softly, brushing the hair from your boyfriend’s confused eyes.

“Because my Pietro Django Maximoff, is the farthest from reckless, stupid or childish.” You begin, stroking his face with your thumb.

“My Pietro is selfless, ready at all times to help someone in need and save the day.” You smirk, watching his lips turn up as you press a peck to his nose.

“He’s brave, willing to do whatever it takes to help, but also smart enough to know when enough is enough.” You continue, kissing the tears off his cheeks.

“He’s fun, always knows how to make everyone smile.”

“y/n, I—”

“Pietro, you could never ‘fail’ me. We aren’t perfect, we’ll learn as we grow.” You smile, leaning into Pietro to press a butterfly kiss to his lips.

“Remember there’s no rush darling, and no matter what, ya tebya lyublyu.” You say as clearly as you can.

Pietro does his best to hide his laugh, but it’s futile as a low chuckle escapes.

“I butchered it didn’t I?” You sigh, shaking your head gently.

“Only a little krasivaya.” Pietro smiles, kissing your temple.

“Y-You know that’s the first time you’ve said that.” Pietro murmurs, holding you tightly against him, arms wound against your waist.

“I wanted to save it for sometime special… And I’ve been practicing.” You laugh.

“Aw I’m flattered dorogoy.” Pietro chuckles, falling onto the bed and pulling you down with him.

“Pietro!”

“You know you love it, moya lyubov.” He chuckles breathily, leaving a trail of kisses on the side of your neck.

“I love you too, printsessa. So very much.” Pietro sighs, his thick accent rolling smoothly off his tongue.

“So. Learn as we grow Piet?”

“With you beside me, anything y/n.” Pietro laughs, moulding your lips together in a soft kiss.

“Now c’mon, Nat’s picking the movie tonight.” You murmur against him.

“Oh, I love a good horror movie, Clint always screams.” Pietro laughs, standing again and pulling you bridal style into his arms, and running you to the living room.

————

“Shh, shh you’re going to wake up mama.”

You awake to the glow of a faint light and the sound of a soft cry. Squeezing your eyes together, you shift yourself to your side and attempt to drift off when a voice catches your attention.

Singing.

Coaxing your eyes open, you turn over again and glance to the other side of your bedroom where Pietro sat cradling your bundle of joy.

Pietro’s smooth voice had brought the cries to a happy coo, and you could see your daughter’s small hand reach up and touch her father’s face.

“Good morning Piet.” You smile, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“It’s only three a.m dorogoy, go back to bed.” Pietro insists as you stand and make your way over to him.

“And let you become the favourite, I know your plans love.” You smirk, wrapping one arm around Pietro’s shoulder and using the other to caress his cheek.

“Alright, you caught me.” Pietro chuckles, gently rocking the baby in his arms.

“Hate to say I told you so.” You laugh in a sing-song voice.

“Oh I’m still terrified, zhena.” Pietro smiles nervously, glancing over at you and pausing as he takes in your beauty in the low light. His heart flutters at the sight of you smiling down at your baby, his train of thought getting lost as you look back at him.

“But?” You question when Pietro’s sentence drops.

“But— I must say my love for you and our little angel is... Much stronger.” He murmurs, kissing your baby’s forehead.

Your heart warms at the sight of your husband's smile that matches your little girl’s.

“Learn as we grow?” Pietro smiles, leaning forward with his eyes closed.

“With you by my side, anything Piet.” You smirk, taking his fingers in your chin and meeting him halfway.

Pietro tilts his chin to deepen the kiss, but the sound of high pitched coos pull you apart.

“ya tebya lyublyu, Piet.” You sigh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your little girl’s forehead and then the corner of Pietro’s lip.

“I love you too, y/n.” He murmurs dreamily.

“Now come on, she’s practically fighting to keep her eyes open now.” You giggle glancing down at your child’s half closed eyes.

“Alright, alright.” Pietro chuckles, placing your daughter back in the crib and collapsing onto your mattress.

“You’re doing amazing my love.” You yawn as Pietro pulls you to his chest and leans into you for a slow kiss.

“You’re not too bad yourself, printsessa.” He murmurs against your lips.

It was all even better than you had imagined.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #marvel #pietro x you #pietro maximoff x you

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 8

TW: None

Words Count: 1.9k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 9

You’re deeply immersed in your own thought that morning at your desk. There’s a whole two weeks before Jimin’s birthday, but since you currently have no idea at all on what to do, you can’t help feeling restless.

“-and since it’s our seventh year anniversary, I was thinking of doing something special, you know? I even thought of buying a new dress just to celebrate it!” You snap out of your reverie, finally tuning back to Irene who had been telling about her boyfriend who she had been dating since college.

“That’s so cute.” You say sincerely to her, briefly wondering if you can have the same kind of happiness too.

She giggles. “Thank you, Y/N.” She draws her breath. “What about you? You don’t have a boyfriend yet?”

You blink several times hearing her question. “Uh- uhh, yeah no.” You’re probably the worst liar ever. You look back down at the file of Jimin’s schedule that you’ve been studying in order for you to make a summary. Something had been bothering you that you’ve been meaning to ask Irene for a while now.

“Eyy~ I’m pretty sure you have one-“

“Hey, Irene can I ask you something?” You cut her off.

“Yeah?” She looks down at the file you’re looking at, reads it for a few seconds before continuing. “Ah~ You must’ve noticed that.”

Clara Kim. The name that would pop on Jimin’s schedule every week without fail. Yet you’ve no idea who she is, what she does and why does he sees her every week. “Who is she?”

Irene looks around as if there would be anyone in close proximity that can hear you before leaning in and whispers to you. “She’s.. Mr. Park’s girlfriend.”

Girl-what? Your eyes feel like it’s going to bulge out of its socket.

Irene laughs a little seeing your expression. “Don’t look at me like that! What, are you sad now thinking our handsome president’s taken?” She chuckles.

“But-“ you rack your brain. Wasn’t his marriage a public affair? Although his wife isn’t disclosed, his employees should’ve known the boss’s status, shouldn’t they? “Isn’t he married?”

She scoffs. “You think he can’t have both at the same time?” She shrugs. “He’s young, rich and definitely good looking. You think he’s gonna just stick to his wife when so many girls are after his ass?”

You lose words to say. His girlfriend? Why would he marry you then? “You don’t think that’s his wife?” Although she obviously isn’t.

She chuckles. “Girl, would meeting his wife be part of his schedule?” You suddenly feel stupid. “I only see her once or twice so far now although I’ve been working here for a long time, and she really doesn’t look like someone’s wife for the record, and he sees her every week without fail. All tall and skinny like a model, big tits big ass long black hair like a vixen ugh. But,” she shrugs, “I don’t know. Mr. Park never says anything about her so it must be really private. If you see here, she usually comes every Friday at night, after we’ve gone back.”

There’s a twist in your heart that you do not wish to know the reason why. You remain silent after that and Irene leaves you to your own devices as well as your thoughts.

You were just organising your table before you go out to lunch when Minhyuk calls you to his office. You glance at Jimin’s office, he’s still locked up in it and you know he haven’t had his lunch yet so you planned to order take outs for the both of you. You sigh a little as you make your way to Minhyuk’s office.

There’s no one else in the office since everyone has gone out for lunch. A tinge of anxiety runs through your body. You have a bad feeling about this.

“Hey, Y/N. You going out for lunch? Mind if you grab take outs for me too?”

Oh. You smile politely. “Sure. What would you like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

You nod then quickly heads downstairs and walks about a block away to find Subway. Packing lunch for three, you head straight back to the office. Slightly nervous, you head towards Jimin’s room first and knocks. He doesn’t answer. Perhaps he doesn’t hear you the first time?

So you knock again. Still no. Was he out? You didn’t see him come out though. Perhaps he’s walked out while you’re out ordering take outs. So you slowly let yourself in silently.

A huge mistake.

You stand at the threshold.

There he is, your husband. He’s sitting behind his desk and there’s a woman bent over him in a very seductive stance. She leans close to him, her fingers playing with his tie.

And you know immediately who she is. Fits perfectly by Irene’s descriptions. Clara Kim.

You don’t love him. But why do you feel your heart shattering into pieces?

Turn away, now.

Turn away before he notices you.

Yet you still stand there, frozen and unable to tear your eyes away.

And when his gaze suddenly flickers to you and your eyes widens that you find yourself turning on your heels instantly, food dropping to the floor.

He doesn’t owe you anything. He doesn’t owe you anything. He doesn’t owe you anything.

You chant those in your head as you run out, unsure of your own direction until a firm set of hands catch you.

You look up and gasps. Minhyuk is holding you by the arms. “Hey-hey. What’s wrong? Who dares to make you cry, little princess?”

You cringe at his nickname for you. Your hands quickly come up to wipe the tears you didn’t realise had fallen.

“I’m fine.” You give him a quick smile. “Just a moment, I’ll fetch you your lunch. I only got you Subway though. Are you okay with that?” You ask but you don’t wait for him to answer, quickly returning to your desk and fetching his lunch, unaware of him following you from behind.

When you turn, you find him right in front of you, leaning so close that you have to back away a little, making your behind bumps against the edge of the desk.

He smirks at your reaction and you feel your blood runs cold. He turns suddenly and you see him holding both yours and his lunch.

“You haven’t had your lunch yet right? Let’s eat together.”

And that’s how you find yourself sitting uncomfortably across Minhyuk’s table, your Subway laid cold in front of you.

“So, what’s up, princess? You wanna tell me what happened back there?”

You draw a breath. “Nothing happened.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “Really? Cause I know what I saw.” He says but earning no response from you, he continues, “Oh, come on.. just tell me. Too much workload? Or boyfriend problems..? You have.. a boyfriend, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitate before shaking your head slowly. “No, no I don’t.” But I do have a husband.

“So.. not a boyfriend problem then. You’re really tight lipped, huh?” He chuckles. “I just wanna be a good boss. You know, getting to know his employee, listening to their concerns.. all that. So you can find me. Anytime you want.”

You smile politely at him though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

There’s a knock on the door and you both turn to look at the same time. Your husband stands at the threshold and you immediately stiffen, freezing like a deer caught in headlights although you’ve done nothing wrong.

“Ah, Jimin! Come on in! We’re just having lunch together.” Minhyuk greets him.

Jimin doesn’t look at you when he answers Minhyuk. “I was gonna ask you out to lunch but it seems like you already have a date.” Deep down, you know that’s not true.

You stand almost instantly. “No, not at all Mr. Park. I’m actually done and Mr. Kim is all yours.” You pick up your lunch quickly and exits before Minhyuk could say anything and avoids any sort of eye contact with Jimin.

You don’t realise it was almost five in the evening as you’ve been so caught up in your own thoughts. For the first time in so long, you feel helpless. You sit down on your desk, feeling numb and empty.

Where are you supposed to go now? You sigh. When you reach home almost an hour later, you find yourself standing outside the door, just staring at it.

In the end, you’d still go back to his place.

In the end, he still owns you and you owe him everything.

With a heavy heart, you unlock the door and push it open. You take a long hot shower after that and you almost want to just climb in and curl on the bed once you’re dressed but you know you still have to prepare dinner for your husband so you come down and prepares his meal, trying your best not to break down while doing it.

Your heart thumps when you hear the front door opens. He doesn’t come straight to the kitchen so he must’ve went upstairs to shower. You swallow a huge lump in your throat. How much longer do you have to do this?

You knew you yourself signed up for this. A marriage without love. You dug your own grave out of desperation. So why does it feel so damn hurt seeing him with another woman?

You couldn’t contain the tears anymore and your vision goes blurry at once. For a few minutes, you just let the tears fall silently, without sobbing without weeping. Then you shut your eyes, take a deep breath then wipe the tears dry with the back of your hand.

Your assumption was right when he enters dining area half an hour later while you were setting up the table. You make a mistake of looking up at him because he looks so ridiculously gorgeous, always, even in his casual clothes that you find it so unfair. You look down immediately yet every nerve of yours is aware that Jimin’s staring at your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, slight annoyance lacing his tone.

You swallow, not daring to meet his eyes then just shakes your head. “Nothing. I already ate and I’m a bit tired so I’ll head upstairs first. Just leave the dishes in the sink, I’ll wash it in the morning.”

“Are you feeling sick somewhere?” You hate that your heart flutters at the slight concern in his tone.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head and walks quickly upstairs. Try hard as you may, you ended up crying yourself to sleep. You don’t wish to because you don’t want Jimin catching you like this, but you did.

Jimin comes up about an hour later and crosses the room to stand in front of you where you appear already fast asleep. If he comes up even 5 minutes later, he might not be aware of it. Yet here he is, standing before your sleeping figure, aware that you cried yourself to sleep. What gave it away is your lashes that are still slightly wet and the tears that are almost dried on your cheeks.

Jimin’s a man of secret, private matters and nothing that exposes himself of the sort.

Yet with you, he feels exposed, barren and naked.

He sighs and bend down. “What do I do with you?” He whispers, his face close to yours, watching you for a few moments before he gets up and climbs on the bed next to you.

The next morning, when you wake up and heads down to the kitchen, you see dishes from last night were already washed clean by Jimin.

Link to Chapter 9

Posted on 210414 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #bts fic #jimin fic #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #jimin smut #smut #kpop #mafia #jimin mafia #ceo jimin #bts smut #bts au #bts mafia

[spookysmujer]

can i get #54 from fluff: “Give me attention.” with spooky please? thank you so much 💙💙

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @princesstiffxoxo @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @roury66 @kkim120 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3 @starrynite7114  @onmyspookysblock (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

a/n: Pardon my little hiatus, it’s been a stressful week. But I am back and ready to tackle your requests. To remind y’all, REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it! And thank you for all your patience, love y’all!

Sueño, O. Diaz

warnings: cute s h e t 🥺

(gif credit belongs to @goldscoyne ✨)

You’ve had a long day with your 6 year-old daughter, Vivianna. Since the havoc of the pandemic virus, you’ve been out of a job and are now homeschooling your much like her father little one. It’s only been a couple of weeks in and it’s been hard on the both you, more so you.

The pot on the stove steaming loudly as you finish washing up the dishes when you hear the front door open and close. Your daughter gasps as she throws down her crayons and hops off the chair, “Papa!”

She’s a complete daddy’s girl, since the day she arrived, she has made it clear that her dad is the superior parent. Oscar quickly throws aside a duffel bag onto the couch to scoop her up. Vivi, as you two like to call her, giggles manically as the two spin around.

“Did you have a good day learning with mama?” He leans back a bit to take a look at her. She scrunches her nose and cups his face with her little hands, shaking her head. “She was a meanie again, can’t you teach me?”

You roll your eyes as you listen in on their conversation.

Oscar walks with her into the kitchen and sets her down, you hear him approach you and his embrace is just the thing you need. You shut off the tap and wipe your hands on your pants, turning to get in a kiss. But he brushes past you to the refrigerator, leaning down to get a beer.

Vivi calls her dad over to look at how she’s improved on writing her name. Oscar is enticed to see that it’s getting a lot more legible. He takes a seat as she hands him a crayon to write his name, she loves to tell him how to write the letters, “Mama, is the food ready yet?” 

You sigh and perk up your face before turning around, “Yes, baby. It’s just about finished, why don’t you clean up so we can set the table.”

She whines and crosses her arm, usually Oscar doesn’t tolerate your daughter not listening or talking back. You cock your head and put your hand on your hips, giving the mini Oscar a stern look. It shocks you when Oscar doesn’t speak up and only continues writing on the paper.

“5 more minutes!” She says happily because she half expected her dad to scold her as well. Vivi picks up the orange crayon to scribble across the paper. You wipe your hands once more before exiting the kitchen and heading to the bedroom, “What do you think?” You hear Oscar as you walk past them.

With the day you’ve had, you only wanted to enjoy dinner with your little family and then climb into bed with your man. But he isn’t loving you up like he usually would. Oscar must have had a long day as well to be acting like so. He’s been working more than he normally would since you’ve been out of work.

As you’re sat in front of your vanity, removing your jewelry, you see Oscar standing into the doorway, watching you. You stare at him before blinking hard and focusing back at you.

He smiles and looks away from you. Oscar licks his lips and bites his bottom lip, always and forever infatuated with you. He treks over to the bed and sits, eventually leaning back to lay on the bed. He sighs and rubs his head. 

“Not gonna ask me how my day went? You usually do.” Oscar sounds from behind you. Your mouth opens slightly as you stare at his body through the mirror, you harshly set down your earrings and turn on your stool. 

“Aren’t you gonna give me attention, hm? You didn’t even kiss me when you got home and then you expect me to ask you how your day was when I’ve been here holed up teaching your daughter who cannot understand the concept of placement of letters!” 

You huff as you release your pent up frustration out on him. He continues to lay back for a moment before sitting upright and looking at you. You take a deep breath, feeling the tears pool. He looks down at his hands and holds out a piece of paper. “Go ahead, open it.”

The anger that began to boil in your blood made you want to stomp out of the room,  if it were you than you would have said sorry first and foremost. You snatch the paper and open it. He begins to smile when he sees that you’ve stopped breathing.

Marry me, mamas.

You blink a few times as you look over the words again. Are you reading this right? Is Oscar proposing to you? By writing it with crayon?

By the time you look up from the paper, Oscar is looking down at a small, velvet box. He’s fiddling with it and opens it soon after. You watch him intently as he sits up straighter and slides down to his knee. It’s happening, it’s freaking happening!

“I had a very shit day. But by the end of the day when I was driving home, I thought to myself.... it’s all worth it. To be able to come home to you and to my babygirl. Nothing is gonna top the feeling. So then I thought, what the hell am I waiting for? Why should I wait to make her Mrs. Diaz? I never thought marriage was for me but just seeing you walk towards me in a white dress... I want it. I want that with you. So be my wife. Te casarías conmigo, por favor?” Oscar turns the box towards you as he is knelt in front of you.

The air is sucked right out of your lungs. The image of him and the ring  blurry due to the overflowing tears. It’s painfully beautiful. A single diamond rests on a gold band. Oscar remembered how you like simplicity in the jewelry you wear. You watch as he takes it out of the box and takes your left hand. He effortlessly slides it on your ring finger and holds your hand, admiring how it looks like it belongs.

“You gotta answer, mamas. It’d be rude to say no considering you already have it on.” The both of you laugh as you nod your head vigorously. You leap off of the stool and onto him. He falls back onto the floor. Oscar wraps his arms around your waist as you pepper his face with kisses. 

Mrs. Oscar Diaz? You really hadn’t given it much thought but now the idea is all thast is running through your mind. The ring fitting perfectly on your finger, “Yes, I’ll be your esposa.” He smiles and lifts his head to capture your lips with his.

The two of you in a moment of bliss that you don’t hear your daughter walk into the room, “Cowabunga!” Your hear right before you feel her come dropping down on the two of you. An eruption of laugh from her and Oscar. “I’m outnumbered here.”

“That’s okay mama, soon you’ll be Diaz like me and daddy. Then you’ll be on our team!” Oh, this is the rainbow after the rain, a perfect end to the day.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz x you #oscar diaz x y/n #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz x you #spooky diaz x reader #spooky diaz x y/n #spooky #spooky diaz #omb #on my block #netflix on my block #spooky imagine #spookysmujer

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Fucking Automobile" -Ted Lasso

This is an accompanying piece to 2 others in this series, but I consider it an AU of the first one. The subject matter is the same, but things go down differently. This one can be read on its own.

Part 1 // Part 2

WORDS: 3482

XXX

Roy Kent’s life is fucking incredible.

For one, he has a gorgeous, wonderful wife, with whom he has a fucking wonderful son, and if that weren’t enough, they’re expecting another baby in just a few short months. But, not only does Roy have a perfect fucking family that he loves, he also has one of the greatest fucking jobs in the world: coaching AFC Richmond (a career second only to being a footballer himself).

He’s headed to work early; Sam needs him for something before practice, and apparently, Roy loves this team enough to miss part of his morning with his wife and son.

It’s one of those days where he’s on autopilot, barely needing to pay attention to what he’s doing. He’s slowing for a traffic light when it turns green, and then there is a mass moving towards him, and he jerks the steering wheel, dread heavy in his chest.

All Roy knows is that he’s bracing himself, then there’s pain, then a hot flash striking his arms and face, then the world stills and he’s opening his eyes. There’s an airbag in his face and horrible pressure against his right side. He blinks, slowly, and tries to take a steadying breath. That doesn’t hurt, at least, and he looks around.

His door is bashed in, bent awkwardly into his body. He can hardly see around the airbag, but he can feel the metal against his leg- his fucking leg, as if it weren’t fucked up enough- and the other car is rammed into his own. Roy swears, loudly, and realizes that there are people starting to swarm around the wreck. He groans and curses again- he doesn't particularly fancy making the headlines with this one.

He gives one of the pedestrians a thumbs up, then fumbles around for his phone. There's no moving until the other car is gone, and even then, Roy's not sure he'd be able to climb out of his seat without collapsing. The phone rings once, twice; long enough that Roy can feel his hands shaking.

"Keeley," he says when she picks up.

"Roy," his wife answers, and she sounds startled.

"I'm okay," Roy says, staring down a bystander, who's unabashedly taking pictures of the scene. "Whatever you see, I'm okay."

"Okay," Keeley says, and there's an edge to her voice now. "What's-"

"I was in a car accident. I'm fine."

Keeley gasps; Roy wavers, suddenly regretting his bluntness. "Some wanker hit me from the side. Airbags went off but aside from being very pissed, I'm alright."

He hears Keeley breathe in and out deeply, and more anxiety bubbles in Roy's stomach. He feels hot, uncomfortably warm, and when he raises his free hand to his head, it comes away wet with blood.

"Are you sure you're alright, Roy? Did you call 999?"

"No," he mutters. "Though I'm sure someone else did." A beat, then:

"I think I fucked up my leg."

"Does it hurt?"

Roy looks down, tries to move his leg, and bites down hard on his tongue to keep from yelling. "A little."

"Okay." He can hear Keeley moving in the background, undoubtedly getting her keys. "Where are you?"

Roy peers through his cracked windshield and finds his vision is blurry. "I don't know," he whispers, and closes his eyes. "I was on my way to the pitch, but-"

"Right. I'm coming to find you."

"Wait," Roy warns. He can hear sirens approaching. "Worry about Oliver first. I'll meet you at the hospital, okay?"

"Okay." Keeley manages to sound businesslike. He knows she's trying not to reveal her worry, and that she knows he's downplaying the circumstances. "I'll see you there, then."

Roy waits for her to end the call. There's a few seconds of silence.

"You're okay, yeah?"

"Yes, Keeley," Roy promises. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," she whispers back. "Love you."

"Love you, sweetheart."

-

Keeley stands in her kitchen and releases the kind of profanity only Roy is usually capable of. Her purse and keys are already gathered in her hands, but there's just one thing she has to worry about first.

"Oliver, love, we're going-" She bites her tongue. She can waste precious minutes asking the neighbor to come and watch him; if that fails, she'll have to find someone to come over and that could take any amount of time.

"We're going to the hospital!" She declares, and her and Roy's little terror sprints into the room and cheers.

Keeley scoops him into her arms, feeling incredibly unbalanced, and makes her exit, grabbing the first pair of baby shoes she can find. She's sure she's missing something, but at least her toddler won't have bare feet.

She calls Ted and Rebecca on the way there; Ted to watch her son and Rebecca to watch her. It'll make them both late to work, she's sure, but there are few people she'd trust more to support her family.

As expected, both of her friends drop everything to help her. Ted sobers up the moment after Keeley says hello; the worry in her words must be painfully evident. In turn, Rebecca vows to be at the hospital in a time that guarantees some horribly reckless driving, which is terrible, given the circumstances, but Keeley knows Rebecca and her best friend bribing her driver isn’t Keeley’s greatest concern right now.

Unsurprisingly, Rebecca is waiting at the hospital for them, Ted at her side. He’s white in the face, which confirms Keeley’s suspicions about their ride over, but he scoops Oliver into his arms, asking how his day has been and if he’d like Special Texas Pancakes for lunch. Keeley offers Ted a wordless smile in thanks before Rebecca takes her inside.

“All I know is they’ve admitted him,” Rebecca says, glancing at the receptionist. “They wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Right, well, you can’t bribe hospital staff all too easy,” Keeley muses. She gives her name to the attendant, who, despite Rebecca’s glowering, tells them to wait, and they take a seat.

It’s only a few minutes before a nurse is pointed towards them. He smiles at them, which Keeley takes as a good sign, though she still clings to Rebecca’s hand during the whole of the conversation.

Roy is fine; he was brought in conscious, but with a severe leg injury and a probable concussion. The doctors aren’t terribly worried, but they have to act fast.

“We understand that Mr. Kent has a previous knee injury.” Keeley nods. “This complicates things. Preliminary tests suggest that there’s further damage to his knee. We still need to do an x-ray and an MRI, but it’s likely that he’ll need surgery.”

Keeley swallows, hard; the youngest Kent-Jones gives her bladder a kick, and she shifts uncomfortably.

“We’ll let you back as soon as we find a room for Mr. Kent.”

“I’d like to see him before any surgery,” Keeley asserts, but her voice is strained.

The nurse nods. “Of course, Ms. Jones.”

-

Soon translates to an hour, but Rebecca occupies Keeley, complaining about idiot businessmen and updates on her mum and anything else asinine that Rebecca can think of. Keeley’s leg shakes up and down, but her thoughts aren’t totally captivated by worry, and that’s good enough.

A different nurse takes her back to see Roy when it’s time, and they wind down a long series of identical hallways. The air is stale with sickness and nerves, and Keeley’s boots click on the linoleum of the otherwise silent hall. Then, they round a corner and the nurse pushes open a door, leading Keeley past curtained-off beds and finally, to Roy.

His eyes are closed. Bright red skin indicates the burn of a deployed airbag, and there are cuts on his face and arm. The hospital gown does him no favors, revealing his mangled leg and the mess of bandages covering his knee.

Tears well in Keeley’s eyes. It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen Roy, topping his last game with Richmond, his retirement conference, and his reaction to the birth of his first child. He’s pale, clearly in pain, but when his eyes open, they seize her up quickly.

She breathes out his name, moves to the head of the bed to run her fingers through his hair, and presses a kiss to the unmarred part of his forehead. His hand captures hers, gripping tightly.

“I fucked my knee,” he whispers, and Keeley nods.

“We’re gonna unfuck your knee,” she tells him, unsure of how much she means it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Roy nods, alert, but obviously tired. His voice was shaking on their call; it’s steady now, but Roy is stuck in a grimace, and he’s barely moving as he talks to her.

“What did they tell you?”

“Not a lot. What did they tell you?”

Roy eyes her suspiciously. “Fuck all. They did a hundred fucking tests and kept their damn mouths shut.”

“Okay. Let’s wait for the doctor, then.”

“Keeley-”

They know each other so well. She’s hard-pressed to get out of this one.

She can see the argument brewing in his mind- his lips are parted, his trademark scowl graces his lovely features, and she knows that he has every right to be frustrated.

“Well, you’re not gonna lose your leg,” she informs him, and Roy snorts. Keeley bites her lip. “I think.”

“It’s fucking useless anyway.” Roy rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking playing football with it.”

“Legs have other uses, you know,” Keeley points out, and Roy snorts again.

“Fuck that."

A smile is tugging at her lips, and Roy is about to mirror the expression despite everything fucking hurting when metal scapes against metal, and the curtains part to reveal a doctor, who smiles at them both. Roy scowls.

“You’re going to cut my fucking knee up.” He accuses, and the doctor nods.

“You tore several major ligaments and we need to prevent permanent nerve damage and limit the risk of blood clots.”

Roy’s scowl deepens, impossibly. “Fine.”

“Excellent. We’ll get prepped for emergency surgery.” She looks at Keeley and Roy, at how tightly they’re holding each other. “I’ll give you two a minute before we take you back.”

Keeley murmurs her thanks, and turns back to Roy.

“Right,” she says, brushing a stray curl off of his forehead. “You be good, and enjoy the hell out of those painkillers. I’ll see you soon.”

“Right,” Roy agrees, kissing the back of her hand. “Don’t eat shitty hospital food if you get hungry. Make Rebecca order you something fancy while you wait.” Roy’s brow creases. “Ted has Oliver, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah.”

“Fuck. Well, Ted can keep him when he has his massive fucking temper tantrum ‘cause of all the biscuits he’s eaten. And you fucking relax and don’t worry too much about me and my fucking knee, okay?”

“Okay.” Keeley bends to kiss him, and he smiles at her, not with his usual brilliance but something close, and that’s enough. She knows he’s in pain; she can read it in every line on his bruised face, but he’s being unflappable for her, and she can try and do the same. “I love you so much, Roy Kent.”

“I fucking love you, Keeley Jones,” he tells her. “And tell Ollie I love him too.”

“I will. He’s gonna cuddle the fuck out of you when we get home, you know that.”

“Damn right.”

-

Keeley stays with Roy until nurses come to take him into surgery. She watches them wheel her husband down the hall and through a forbidden set of double doors, and exhales.

She finds Rebecca quickly enough, who ensures they celebrate Roy’s prognosis and consciousness and retainment of his humor. Over and over, she repeats Roy’s words in her head: he’s going to be fine, and she shouldn’t worry too much.

Rebecca regales her with tales of the worst men she’s worked with; when that fails, they compare notes on baby names. They laugh and grin without light ever reaching their eyes and neither utter a word about it, but Rebecca confiscates Keeley’s phone when her Twitter mentions blow up. There are pictures of the accident, and of a bloodied Roy Kent being loaded in an ambulance, and Ted texts her to let her know that he’s brought Oliver inside where any nosy press won’t catch a glimpse of him. Her heart aches for her son, who would be distressed if he knew any better, and who likely won’t get to see much of his parents today. Ignorance is bliss, though, and Keeley thinks of Roy’s last smile to her, and not of his strained words when he called her, or the pictures of his totaled car online, or how fragile he looked in the hospital bed.

There’s a nagging at the back of her brain, though, of what would’ve happened if Roy couldn’t reach his phone, or if he left home a second sooner or a second later, or if she had gone with him, or if he had to drop Oliver off somewhere along the way, or if the other driver had been going a tiny bit faster or hit Roy at a slightly different angle. He’s lucky, after all, that it’s just his leg, that it’s not even broken, that their baby wasn’t in the backseat, that Roy will ultimately be fine after this, he’ll be fine, because he’s still so fucking young and his son is still a baby, really, and he hasn’t even met his second child yet.

Keeley takes a shaky breath, and Rebecca captures Keeley’s hand in both of her own. She rubs her thumb across the back of Keely’s hand, and the younger woman rests her head against Rebecca’s shoulder, and the two women stay like that for a long time.

-

It’s three hours before they get any word about Roy. Keeley thinks, really, that it should have been like, half an hour at most, but the nurse who talks to them says all good things, and that they’re almost done. Some of the damage is permanent, especially to Roy’s nerves, but the rest of him is fine. Walking normally will be the greatest challenge, and to Keeley, that’s a nominal problem given the rest of his prognosis.

Rebecca stews when they have to wait another couple of hours: first, the surgery has to wrap up, then Roy is brought to a recovery room to be monitored, then finally, finally, he’s moved to a private room where they can sit with him. The whole time, Rebecca lingers an inch away from total fury, but Keeley lets Rebecca be as angry as she likes, so that way, Keeley doesn’t have to be and all her energy can be focused on Roy.

It’s quieter when she sees Roy this time, more peaceful. Even Roy Kent doesn’t scowl in sleep, and despite the IV in his arm and the injuries peppering his skin, Roy appears at rest, genuinely so. Keeley waits, alone for the first time that day, for him to wake, and when he does, Roy only mumbles hi and offers a groggy smile before he’s out again. Keeley texts Rebecca and Ted an update, and that’s how her afternoon passes, her husband in and out of sleep, and not much else in the world mattering.

-

The next day is a flurry of doctors and physical therapists, and their three-year-old son navigating a hospital for the first time. Roy’s concussion means wearing sunglasses indoors, but Ted drops Oliver off with a matching pair for him and Keeley, and their first family picture after the accident is of them in the hospital, all wearing shades inside like a bunch of proper arseholes, Roy’s face impassive but Keeley and Oliver positively beaming at the camera. Roy learns how to navigate on crutches, as is the condition of his release, so he struggles his way up and down a short hallway, swearing all the while, his grouchy disposition only faltering when Oliver makes his opinion known about the matter (“Daddy has four legs!).

They’re sent home, donned in sunglasses and laden with crutches and high-grade painkillers, late that day, and Roy has to wonder if Rebecca’s paid off the press when he’s loaded from wheelchair to car without any twats snapping pictures of him at his worst. Later, he’ll confirm that she did, in fact, pay the tabloids to piss off, accompanying a press release along the same lines. He and Keeley are lucky to have such a friend, he knows, especially one that doesn’t believe in bullshit.

He’s absent at the next Richmond match and most of their practices the following week, in favor of sleeping frequently. Something wonderful about needing three fucking naps a day is that Oliver will nap with him, which gives Keely a much-needed break, and also there’s nothing fucking better than his baby asleep in his arms, because he loves his son so fucking much but sometimes it’s fucking nice when Oliver isn’t running around like a maniac, and Roy can just hold him.

Putting any weight on his leg is fucking hard. Showering is fucking impossible, bending down to pick up Oliver’s ridiculous toys is difficult, stairs are a fucking burden on humanity, and Roy is in so much fucking pain all the time. It gets better at a snail’s pace, and he manages to make it through a full day of work on an obscene amount of Tylenol and Ted literally cheering him on in the most annoying way possible. The only thing that pacifies him is Keeley coming in to kiss him at various intervals throughout the day, and he buries his head against her side and she runs her fingers through his hair, and their kid-on-the-way sometimes kicks against Keeley’s stomach, which never fails to be spectacular.

Roy masters crutches, even though the dumb fucking things make his armpits hurt, and a month after surgery, when Roy has endured physical therapy and public sympathy and a thousand fucking stairs, he begs his doctors to let him off them. And so, they introduce the next alternative that Roy will use for the rest of his fucking life.

A cane. Roy Kent, still fucking young, is fitted for a cane, which Ted immediately wants to decorate with lights and streamers and shit, and that Oliver tries to use as a fucking lightsaber and wack people with. It’s fucking terrible, but it’s also the first thing that makes Roy laugh after coming home from the doctor’s with his fancy new stick.

They told him and Keeley this, that first day in the hospital after the wreck. That he would never walk the same, that some of the nerves were too far gone. There’s nothing he can do, aside from physical therapy to build up some strength. It’s damning, and a hard pill to swallow, but Roy’s knee has been fucked since his last football match against Manchester, and he knows that. Keeley reminds him that his life is still pretty incredible, after all, and Roy has to agree.

His daughter is born shortly after, and Roy weeps when he figures out how to hold a cane in one hand and his precious baby in the other. Frequently, he looks like the corniest fucking dad ever, because it’s honestly easiest to carry Lily in a papoose, but Roy fucking Kent’s reputation holds up: he’s still the scariest motherfucker to ever grace the face of football. When he takes her to practice, though, he finds that this effect is somewhat diminished; he yells at one of the boys to tighten up, then his daughter gurgles, and Roy is caught gazing down at her with a dopey fucking smile on his face.

The first cane breaks when Richmond loses by a slim margin thanks to a few small mistakes. Roy is minutes into a post-match debrief when he punctuates what went wrong with the cane against the whiteboard, and the wood slams against metal and splinters into a hundred fucking pieces all across the locker room, footballers ducking for cover, Roy’s chest heaving as he surveys the scene. Then Ted sits Roy down, commends his incredible strength, and tells the team to goldfish their way through this, and that they’ll work through it during the next practice.

Oliver breaks the second cane. And the third. And then Roy concedes style to durability and gets a fucking metal cane that his kids aren’t allowed to touch.

His life is different, largely because he’s a father of two now, and stairs are fucking terrible and he hates them. But, aside from that, he’s still Roy Kent, Keeley Jones’ husband, parent to the two best fucking kids in the universe, football coach extraordinaire. That’s pretty fucking good, in his book, and in the end, there’s nothing fucking wrong with using a cane so long as Oliver doesn’t kill anyone with it.

#roy kent #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #keeley x roy #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

Truth and Awakenings Ch. 3

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x02, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ finds Everett Lynch and his daughter before getting shot.

(TW: blood, guns)

Read on AO3

About a week had passed and the team gets a call that Everett Lynch was back to break Grace out of jail, and they had to find the father-daughter duo fast before they cause any more damage. Emily had assigned JJ to partner up with her during this case, and they were locating Lynch and his daughter.

The two agents exited the car, slamming the doors closed. “Emily, I don’t think we can wait for backup,” JJ said, pulling out her gun.

Emily nodded and pointed straight ahead before running. “Alright, I’ll take this one. You take the parking garage at Piedmont and 10th.”

JJ had her gun aimed and steady in her hands as she made her way through the parking garage. She came around a corner before she made her presence known to the father and daughter.

“Everett Lynch, FBI! Stop!” She yelled, face stern. “Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head. Now!”

“Ok! Hey! Take it easy,” Everett raised his hands before slowly placing his gun on the ground. “Gee, lady, there’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl.”

“All right, kick it over. Kick it over!” she yelled again, not breaking eye contact with the father. He kicked the gun over to her, and Grace was still standing with her bag.

JJ looked at the girl, “All right, Grace, you, too. Come on. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on! Now!” She did as she was told and slowly dropped the item.

“All right. Don’t move,” JJ warned the two. She carefully angled her body and reached down to grab the gun Everett had kicked over.

Grace pulled a gun that was hidden inside her jacket and aimed it towards the agent. JJ heard three gunshots crack in the parking garage, and fell back down to the ground as blood started to pool from the left side of her stomach. All she heard was faint laughter from Everett and tires screeching, concluding that the father and daughter had driven away.

The blonde was lying down on the ground, coughing up the copper-y taste of liquid out of her mouth. She tried to move but found that she couldn’t, and instead, tried to calmly breathe as best as she could.

“JJ, what’s your location?” she barely heard through her earpiece. ”JJ, do you copy? JJ?” She couldn’t answer. The voice sounded feminine and in a hurry. JJ closed her eyes and silently prayed it was her coming to her rescue. ”Hold on. I’m on my way.”

In less than a minute later, JJ blinked a few times and saw a body moving towards her. It was blurry to see their face. They had lightish hair and were murmuring their worries for the injured agent. It was Emily.

“No, no, no. Come on, JJ,” Emily panicked, putting her gun back in her holster. “You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok,” she said and tried to cover her wound. She yelled into her small mic, “JJ’s down! She’s been hit, we need an ambulance. Now!”

“Emily…” JJ weakly coughed out.

“Shh. Just- just stay with me, ok? Just keep breathing. Eyes on me,” Emily instructed. “Get an ambulance, now, damn it!” she ordered again in an almost shaky voice. Her hands nervously shook. The recurring nightmare she had years ago was starting to come to life: finding JJ lying on the ground surrounded by blood.

JJ nodded in response, fingers reaching out to grab Emily’s other hand. The blonde squeezed her wrist and felt her hand being enveloped by Emily’s.

“Please d- don’t leave me, Emily,” JJ said, struggling to keep her eyes open. She needed to let herself know that Emily wasn’t going to fade away, like she did in her hallucination when she was tortured and at her breaking point. So, she tightly held Emily’s hand close to her stomach to ground herself.

Emily softly shook her head and rubbed a thumb over JJ’s knuckles. “I got you, JJ. I got you.”

When the ambulance came, the unit chief had gone with them. During the ride to the hospital, JJ found Emily’s hand again and ran both of her thumbs over her knuckles, squeezing it for reassurance to both Emily and herself. Emily frowned at JJ, all of a sudden feeling guilty. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt, especially if they were one of her closest friends.

“It’s ok. You’re gonna be ok, JJ.” At this point, Emily didn't know if she was telling JJ or herself that. The younger agent nodded and her eyes became a little heavier.

One of the paramedics looked at the two women, and nodded their head towards Emily. “Are you her wife?”

Emily’s eyes widened at the assumption. “Oh, n- no. She has a husband.”

They chuckled and shook their head, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Emily furrowed her eyebrows at the remark. Did people really think she and JJ were married? Sure, they were close, but… did they ever act or look like a couple? She shook her head at the thought and focused on her friend’s grip on her hand, which had started loosening. That was the moment Emily lifted her free hand to bite on her thumbnail.

--------------------

The hospital back doors opened and the paramedics made their way inside, pushing the gurney JJ was on, while Emily followed closely behind. The blonde heard several voices talking over her.

“Spike a one-liter bag.”

“Airway’s unstable. Check for arterial bleeds.”

“Gunshot wound to the upper torso. Bullet entered under left arm. No exit wound. Pulse is thready, breathing shallow.”

Emily stood back and watched the medical staff hooked JJ to the machines, clipping the pulse oximeter onto her index finger and checking her blood pressure.

“Need her for transfer.”

“Stats are dropping. High flow O2. 15 liters.”

A gradual rapid beeping was heard on the EKG machine, and Emily’s eyes switched back and forth between JJ and the screen. “She’s crashing.”

Emily quietly gasped and her eyes widened in fear. Her hands slightly shook again, and she lifted one of them to her mouth to chew on her thumbnail again, suddenly finding it difficult to file away into the little boxes of her mind. I can’t lose her.

The doctor stepped in and grabbed the defibrillator paddles, rubbing the liquid gel together. “Clear.”

JJ’s body quickly jumped at the shock and the beeping slowed down a little. “I got a heartbeat.” Emily sighed in relief.

The doctor made her way towards the grey-haired woman. “Are you her partner?”

“No. I- I can call him and tell him what’s going on,” Emily stammered. Seriously, what was it with the people in this hospital thinking she and JJ were a couple?

“He better get here quick.”

Emily nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialling Will’s number.

--------------------

Will opened the hospital door in the front and Emily stood up from her chair. “Will.”

“How did this happen?” Will asked in confusion. “Why wasn’t she wearing a vest?”

“She was. The bullet missed the kevlar and entered just under her arm,” Emily said. She knew how protective he was of JJ. Of course, he’s her husband, so he has to be. Even though Will trusted JJ in her abilities as an agent, Emily knew he didn’t like hearing about JJ getting hurt on the job. Neither did she.

WIll glanced down for a moment. “The doctor told me her heart stopped.”

Emily hesitantly nodded, momentarily closing her eyes to keep that thought away from her. “It did, but they brought her back.”

“I need to see her.”

“She’s already in surgery,” she said. “It’s gonna be a while. Why don’t you sit down?”

Will sighed deeply before sitting down. Emily looked at him with sympathy. He really cared for JJ and she could see that. And JJ loves him, too. She didn’t want to disrupt a perfectly happy marriage for her own selfish reasons.

“Um… Is it ok if I wait with you?” Emily offered.

“Yeah, of course,” Will nodded, making room for her to sit down. “You know, Emily, JJ’s gonna want to see you, too, when she wakes up.”

Emily gave a silent nod to his statement. “She’s strong,” she chuckled. “I know she can make it through this.”

Her eyes landed back to her lap and began picking at her fingernails, one of the signs that showed she was stressed. Emily had called Garcia earlier to inform the team that Lynch and his daughter ran away again before waiting for Will. She desperately wanted to focus her attention back on the case, but JJ getting hurt kept intruding her thoughts.

Will turned his head to see Emily tapping her foot and looking away from him. He knew how worried she was about his ex-wife. The fact that she had been showing almost all signs of stress right now told him that she really loves and cares for JJ.

Will thought back to the two women’s interactions, and how much they’ve worried over each other when the other person was in danger. He remembered seeing the sudden brightness in JJ’s eyes and how her body eases whenever Emily was around. When Will was strapped to a bomb during that one case with bank-robbing, terroristic unsubs, he trusted Emily to take care of JJ and Henry for him, if he died.

At that moment, Will realized how in love both Emily and his ex-wife are with each other. He doesn’t know if JJ had told her already, but whatever happens, he was always going to be supportive of them.

#jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds #jemily fic #tw guns #tw blood

[the-delta-42]

Miracles

Follow up of Revealed

Miracles

Gabriel looked at the miraculouses in his hand, he could bring Emilie back. Gabriel suddenly shook his head, no, he already knew what he was going to do, and he wasn’t about to back out on it. The past is the past, and Ms. Dupain-Cheng deserved to have a life to live.

“Plagg, Tikki,” Said Gabriel, making the Kwami look up at him, “Unify.”

Both Kwami were sucked into their miraculouses, Gabriel felt the pure power coursing through him, he felt like a god.

“Gabriel Agreste.” Said an ancient voice, “You have combined creation and destruction into one, what is your wish?”

“There is a girl, a child, that had her life cut too short.” Said Gabriel, making the voice chuckle.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Creations chosen.” Said the voice, “Her life would’ve been long and prosperous.”

“I wish for you to bring her back.” Said Gabriel, eliciting another chuckle from the voice.

“This desire is borne of regret, compassion and humility.” Said the voice, “Had you wished for your wife, you’re world would’ve been destroyed. There is a consequence to this, the girl may live, but you will fall.”

“I maintain my stance.” Affirmed Gabriel, tensing himself.

“Gabriel Agreste,” Said the voice, “Your wish…is granted.”

Gabriel felt an intense burning in his hand and ears, before he tore the miraculouses off himself. He stood in the middle of his office, for a moment he was worried he’d taken them off too soon. Gabriel froze, he could smell burning toast, Adrien was still in his room and Nathalie and Adrien’s bodyguard weren’t the snacking type, so where was it coming from. Half of his face felt numb, he lifted his foot and came crashing down, knocking his computer off his desk as he fell. Where was he? Gabriel knew where he was but couldn’t recognise it. He attempted to stand up, only to find his arms and legs weren’t working together. Thing suddenly became blurry, where was he? How did he get here? Who was that screaming?

R

Arnold sighed at the sight of the girl on the slab, some days he really hated his job, children had so much to live for and for one to be taken by cancer was a great tragedy.

“Subject is a young female, approximately 15 to 16 years of age, Caucasian-Asian descent.” Said Arnold, after pressing record on the tape, “Doctor Arnold Halesworth performing autopsy.”

“I am making a y-incision in the subject’s abdominal region-” Arnold sword loudly, making a nurse outside the room knock on the door.

“Doctor, is everything alright?” Asked the Nurse, poking her head through.

“This ‘cadaver’,” Said Arnold, pressing down on the incision he made, “is still alive.”

The nurse froze, before running off to find some of her colleagues and a gurney.

R

Sabine woke up to her eyes itching, something that’d become common following Marinette’s death. The Bakery had been closed in the week following her death, the hospital, no doubt trying to cover itself, had decided to perform an autopsy on Marinette. Sabine jumped when the phone suddenly started ringing.

“Hello?” Asked Sabine, answering the phone, Tom standing in the doorway behind her.

“Hello, Mrs. Cheng?” Sabine recognised the voice of Dr. Bates, the Doctor who’s team had taken over the care of the cancer patients after the incident with the nurses came to light.

“Dr. Bates,” Said Sabine, her voice scratching, “can I ask why you’re calling?”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Said Dr Bates, sounding nervous and confused, “Our mortician was performing the autopsy of your daughter, and, well, found that she was still alive.”

Sabine froze, the phone falling from her grip. Tom picked up the phone, listening to Dr Bates and, within an hour, Sabine found herself staring at Marinette’s prone body in an ICU bed.

“By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense,” Said Dr Bates, looking over the file, “Her heart and breathing ceased, and we were able to declare her brain dead.”

“Is that everything?” Asked Tom, making Dr Bates look at him.

“Actually, theres more,” Said Dr Bates, handing them a scan, “That is your daughter’s scan from two weeks ago,” She handed them another, “This is the scan from two hours ago.”

“But, the one from today doesn’t have anything on it.” Said Tom, as Dr Bates frowned.

“Precisely,” Confirmed Dr Bates, “It’s as if the cancer decided up and leave.”

“But she’s going to be okay?” Asked Sabine, taking her eyes of Marinette for the first time.

“As soon as we’re able to confirm her recovery, we’ll see that she’s discharged and placed in remission.” Said Dr Bates, just as a new patient was admitted.

“White male, mid-to-late forties, burns to his right hand and ears, suffered a stroke before an ambulance was called.” Said the EMT, as the gurney was rushed past Tom and Sabine.

The couple nearly blanched at the sight of Gabriel Agreste, looking as if he’d been tortured, was rushed past them. Tom spotted Adrien being guided to a waiting area by an orderly and went over to him.

“Can, can I go in and see her?” Asked Sabine, looking back at Marinette.

Dr Bates was silent for a second, “I don’t see why not.”

Dr Bates opened the door for Sabine, who went directly to her daughter’s bedside and grabbed her hand. Dr Bates watched Sabine sit in the chair, her eyes not leaving her daughter.

R

She was confused, where was she? What was she doing? Why is she in a coffin? Emilie climbed out of the tube, rubbing her eyes as she walked towards what she thought was the exit. Emilie froze, she’d been sick, Duusuu was broken. But she was awake. Emilie grinned, before running to her and Gabriel’s room, intent on finding out how he’d fixed the miraculous. She ran into Nathalie, almost knocking the woman over.

“Emilie?” Asked the woman, her jaw hanging open.

“Nathalie!” Grinned Emilie, looking behind her, “Where’s Gabriel and Adrien?”

“They, they’re at the hospital,” Said Nathalie, staring at Emilie, “H-how are you…?”

Emilie froze, “I thought Gabriel fixed the Miraculous.”

Nathalie nodded her head, “It wasn’t enough to bring you back, Gabriel was going after the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses.”

Emilie’s smile dropped, “Did Gabriel sacrifice my son, Nathalie?”

Nathalie shook her head, “No, Adrien had the Cat Miraculous, the Ladybug holder’s Miraculous caused her death.”

“And how did she die?” Demanded Emilie, her mind already going to the worst.

“Leukaemia.” Said Nathalie, swallowing, “After her death, Gabriel was given both Miraculouses by Adrien, with the hope of bringing her back.”

“Nathalie,” Said Emilie, slowly, “who is receiving treatment at the hospital?”

“Gabriel.” Was the one-word answer.

“Get Simon and get the car ready.” Said Emilie, reaching for her coat, “Where’s my coat?”

“Amalie took them.” Said Nathalie, getting a scowl from Emilie.

“Typical.”

R

Sabine stroked Marinette’s knuckles with her thumb, the heart monitor steadily beeping. Sabine stiffened when Marinette’s grip tightened and then slacked.

“M-Marinette?” Asked Sabine, as she stood up.

Marinette’s face scrunched up, before she rolled over, pulled the tube out of mouth and threw up over the side of the bed. Marinette rolled and looked up at Sabine.

“Maman?” Asked Marinette, her voice weak.

Sabine let out a sob, before she pulled Marinette into her embrace. Tom stopped when he opened the door, Adrien standing behind him.

“Tom, Marinette’s awake!” Wept Sabine, the girl looking tired and confused.

“M-Maman, can you stop rocking me please, I’m gonna-” Marinette was cut off as she threw up, “Why does my stomach hurt?”

“They’d just started an autopsy when they realised you were alive.” Said Tom, as Marinette’s gaunt face looked up at him in horror.

“And if they didn’t do the autopsy?” Asked Marinette, as Dr Bates arrived.

“Then, there’s every chance you us accidentally burying you alive.” Said Tom, quietly.

“Oh.” Said Marinette, before she fainted.

“I’ll get the smelling salts.” Said an orderly, leaving the room.

Dr Bates looked at the puddle of vomit on the bed and the floor, “Well, at least we know the last thing she ate without cutting her open.”

R

Alya looked down at her phone screen. The class hadn’t hung out since Marinette died, now Adrien was calling her phone.

“Alright, Sunshine, this better be important.” Said Alya, before her eyes widened, and her phone fell from her hand.

R

Adrien looked at the doors as they swung open, expecting to see Alya and Nino, but instead saw his, presumed, dead mother stalking in, with Nathalie behind her.

“I’m looking for someone under the name Agreste.” Said His mother, not clocking Adrien.

The receptionist scowled, without looking up, and pointed towards Adrien, “Ask the kid with banana-shaped hair.”

His mother’s face went red, before Nathalie turned her head towards Adrien for her. Emilie froze when she saw her son. She slowly approached him, getting into arms reach of him. A second passed, before she grabbed him and practically smothered him.

“Maman?” Whispered Adrien, making Emilie look down at him.

“It’s me, sweetie.” Whispered Emilie, as Adrien seemingly broke in her arms.

R

Marinette looked up as Adrien entered the room, a blonde woman behind him. Marinette waved, not taking the straw in her mouth out of the drink. Adrien gave Marinette a small smile, before holding his hand out. Marinette reached out for it, only for Adrien to drop two small studs into her hand. Marinette froze, before putting her drink down and putting the studs in her ears. Tikki formed in front of her, the Kwami stared at her, before tears welled up in her eyes.

Tikki launched herself at Marinette’s face, gripping the girl’s cheek and she cried. Adrien had to admit, seeing Tikki hug Marinette’s face while the girl still had a straw in her mouth was kinda funny.

R

Marinette looked around her room, Dr Bates had given Marinette some antibiotics and some other medication to help her get her weight back up. Adrien had filled her in on what happened after her death. How Gabriel had united the Miraculouses and brought Marinette back, Tikki had explained that Emilie had been returned as a reward for Gabriel’s actions.

The resultant price, for Gabriel, however, was far more severe. After the Miraculouses had irreparably damaged his right hand and his hearing, then he had a stroke that took his legs and his ability to design from him. Gabriel had said that the Voice, Tikki called them Null, said that uniting the Miraculouses would cause Gabriel to fall.

Today was her first day back at school. Her first day at restarting her life.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #tom dupain #sabine cheng #alya cesaire #emilie agreste #Tikki #dr bates #delta writes #revealed #gabriel agreste redemption

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

Bad timing part.2 | tom holland x fem!reader

part.1

Summary: Tom stake to his words. In fact, since the viagra incident, your life was in a constant loop of teasing and frustration. But the torture ended when the boy finally asked you to marry him. Joy and happiness overwhelmed you, but you couldn’t help asking yourself a single question: what will happen during your honeymoon?

Warnings: language, sexual teasing/tension, SMUT including romantic first time sex fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) and sooo much more, oh and fluff too obviously!

Word Count: 5228

A/N: you cheeky beauts 😏... so many of you asked for a part2 whaaaat!! I think I’ve left you guys a bit frustrated, am I right? 😜 so I tried to please everyone bc you all gave me ideas and stuff, so it’s a mix of everything I guess? 👀 as originally requested by @photoshopart15 but also as a general demand, here it is! hope you will enjoy it as much as the first one, you cheeky beasts 😉✨ did I enjoy writing it too much? judging by the word count... HECK YES 🙈

masterlist | your support | taglist

Tom is a kind and well-mannered man, always putting the others before himself. You knew that since day one. And when he had a precise idea in mind, boy does he keeps his words until he goes fully through it.

After the viagra incident Tom was teasing you any time he had the chance, to the point you would have to lock yourself into a room or just go out by yourself to calm down. You have never been so fuzzy, your whole face starting to keep the blushing aspect. Any occasion was an excuse to push you at your limits. And he loved it. But you kind of got used to it by the time and well, and learnt to live with it.

Then came the day Tom proposed to you. 

And later came the weeding.

"I do."

You remember saying these two special words during the ceremony. Exchanging vows with your loved one surrounded by the people who are precious to you both is just how you imagined that day. Beautiful yet intimate, with little extravaganza touches from Tom. 

The best day of your life.

The sun begins to set little by little, letting behind it an orange-reddish sky before it disappears below the horizon. Some rays still light the bedroom you actually are. The peaceful roll of the waves running aground the shore livens up the surrounding, sometimes followed by tropical birds’ cries. Calm. Total serenity. And relaxing, just what you needed.

For your honeymoon, Tom booked a villa on stilts in the Maldives for three weeks. You arrived a few hours ago, slightly bitten up by the jet lag but more than happy to be finally there. No one around but you and the beach of the island at five minutes by boat. You are totally living the dream.

As the weather has nothing to do with London at the moment, you just wear a simple top and some sport shorts. Your hair put into a messy bun, you lay on your stomach on the king size bed that is at the perfect place to watch the sunset. Right in front of it, the patio door widely open to this magnificent scenery and the last ray warming up your exposed skin. Phone in hands, you scroll through it as Harry already sent you the first pictures he took of the wedding.

You couldn’t suppress the smile on your face. Both you and Tom had bright smiles on the photographs, sometimes with teary eyes due to emotion but still radiating happiness and love for each other. 

A new chapter of your life just started and you can’t wait to see where it will take you with the man you love.

Speak of the devil, you notice now that the running water coming from the bathroom stops. Just like the humming from inside. Another two minutes later, the wooden door opens to reveal your newly husband freshly exiting the bathroom, only wearing a boxer tight around everything his hips and hair still wet. And to think that he can look hot with and without clothes... and that he is now officially yours.

You hear his steps on the creaking parquet as he approaches your shared bed and look over your shoulder. Then the bed dips from the weight of his body next to you.

"Looks like Harry did a great job with the pictures, right?"

Tom’s hot breath is next to your ear as he speaks, sending you chills over your body. When you turn slightly your head towards him, his face is close to yours that you can feel the heat coming from him. His eyes look lovingly at the picture you stopped on: both of you sharing a kiss after your vows.

“The pictures are beautiful, indeed” you reply in a whisper, eyes back on your phone.

You feel him leave a kiss on top of your exposed shoulder, his lips warm from his previous shower. He then put his chin on the nap of your neck, getting closer as if searching for more closeness, his still wet torso against half your back.

“I want to frame that one when we go back home” Tom adds while putting one hand over yours which holds the phone.

Your heart is thumping from many emotions rushing through your mind and body. You sure feel blessed to be now married to this young man you knew since your young age, not to forget how attracted you are to each other. Yet the incident of “that day” still remains fresh in the back of your head. 

But you were a newly married couple now so why would you be frighten or self-conscious about... what has to come? That is right, you have no reason to be scared. Not at all.

You lock your phone and let it fall on the soft sheets. Your hands still linked, you now intertwine your fingers with his as you kiss his cheek then repeat the action a few times, a bit slower and lips never leaving his skin. Tom slightly pulls away turning his head to look at your face, admiring the gleam in your eyes that are like an open book to him. 

In a light motion Tom pushes your upper body to make you turn on your back. After biting his lips to hide a smirk, he slides closer to you and both of you roll on the bed followed by giggles. Now wrapping his strong arms around your frame, Tom hugs you tightly against his chest.

“My beautiful wife...” he mumbled, pressing the tip of his nose into the tresses of your hair. “... Mrs. Holland.”

The last statement makes you heart thump heavily, cheeks starting to redden. 

“I love you, Tom, so much” you whisper, answering the unspoken way his heart relayed just how much he loves you as well. 

A giggle escapes your lips when he huffs a hot breath against the rim of your ear squeezing you even tighter in his arms before finally relaxing into a soft cuddle. Sliding one of your arms around his back, you snuggle into his frame trying to be as close to his body as possible so he can be enveloped by your warmth and body heat.

Then Tom shifts just a bit placing his hand on your cheek, getting you to tilt your head up where he admires the shade and gleam of your beautiful eyes before pulling you to meet his lips. Instantly your body melts under the gentle and warm sway of his kiss, that feels soft and sweet like the perfect flavour of ice cream. 

The moment Tom pulls away your eyes flutter hazily, telling him you want another with the soft way you whisper his name. 

"Someone’s needy..." 

Not trying to hide his smirk anymore, the man is more than happy to give you all the kisses you could ever want as he leans down again meeting your lips in the middle. One more kiss turns into many, as one of your hands glide into his wild brown hair. Your eyes soften, parting your lips when his tongue slides over your top lip wanting to make the kisses more steamy.

The heated sway of his slick muscle laps around your own slowly and sensually coating it with his saliva, letting you become enthralled and overwhelmed so much by his passion that a small murmur of a moan hazes into his lips.

"Mmh, I can never get enough of the way you taste" Tom mutters the moment he pulls away licking his lips, noting the thin trail of saliva connecting you together.

He then trails the edge of his lips down your neck while placing soft enticing feather-like kisses.

“What do you say about me marking this gorgeous body of yours?” he rasps, letting the heat of his breath haze against your skin and picks a soft patch to suck on. 

It takes you a moment to realise he is indeed leaving you a hickey. Such a mark would not be the first one he has given you, but you always remind him to not make them too big and somewhere easy to hide. But today, you don’t want to impose him any restriction. 

And that is when you feel some kind of pressure... between your legs. More precisely against your core. You let out a high pitch squeal when the steady pressure evolves into back and forth moves. You can’t stop a few moans escaping from your mouth at the feeling, Tom’s hips in total rythme with his sucking.

Your body arches more into his, letting him have complete access to your neck. Tom slides his tongue up and down, sucking and swirling his muscle till a deep purple love bite is forming against your skin, right on the side of your collarbone. Only then does he pull away to admire his handy work.

A tingle slides through your body as he uses a few of his fingers to caress over your love bruise, as if he could feel how warm and pulsating your skin and heart are. Short-winded and almost sweating, your eyes still blurry with what just happened, and definitely wet down there. A total reminder of the “incident”.

Then you see it. His huge deadly smirk, staring at you so deep as he perfectly knows what he is doing to you. 

And without a word Tom stands up from over you and the bed, passing his finger through his now dry curls as he starts walking towards his luggage on the other side of the room.

“Alright, a boat’s gonna take us to the restaurant of the island for 7pm so let’s get ready.”

And the man just leaves you still on the bed to go change into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, breath still short while squeezing your thighs together to find some relieve.

That. Fucking. Bastard.

* * * * 

Fortunately, the delicious food and tasty cocktails appeased your infuriated more like frustrated state from earlier. You were not THAT mad at Tom... but still. Since you left the villa to have dinner on the beach, you never felt so tensed. You tried your best to not show your husband bad attitude because first, he doesn’t deserve any of it and two... There is no other reason, actually. 

You racked your brains all evening. You knew you were ready, and that is why you mostly welcomed Tom into your shared steamy embrace. And it all stopped abruptly like he did every times since the viagra incident. But now, you were married so why does he keep playing that hell of a teasing game? 

So you kept your composure as much as you could, even when Tom tried to be touchy-feely. Each time both your skins made contact, it surprised you to the point Tom started wondering if you were alright. But you still managed to conceal your weird behaviour to him.

But he still noticed something was on.

* * * *

You are finally back to the villa. Tom gentlemanly helps you to get out of the little boat, not without nearly falling into the sea as doing so. At least, his usual goofy self always brings a smile on your face. Tom opens the door to let you in first, and you thank him as you do.

Entering the house you stop when you notice the inside plunged into complete darkness, but with candles lighten up here and there. In the air flutters a calming perfume of tropical flower, just enough to mix with the salty perfume of the sea. And at your feet are spread flowers petals as if creating a path to lead you somewhere.

“You like it?” Tom whispers in you ears, giving you the chills.

“T-That’s really pretty, but why-”

“Shh, you will see, princess.”

Before you can finish your sentence, Tom’s hands gently press onto your hips and he slowly pushes you to make you walk. As he walks you through the dark villa - and banging into some furnitures on the way which makes you laugh again, you now are able to guess where he takes you. 

Tom then stops you in front of the familiar wooden door to open it, and before your eyes is a nicely arranged the big bathroom with the same lighted candles around the bathtub already filled up with water and petals. But what takes your breath away may for sure be the beautiful view from the patio window on which the bathtub is placed against. You can still hear and see the sea waves in the darkness of the night, but in the distance you can make out some lights coming from the next door island. There are actually curtains on both sides of the window, slightly closed to keep some intimacy but still a bit see-through.

A bright blush decorates your cheeks at all the display as suddenly tones of intimate thoughts crosse your mind. 

“As cliché as it sounds, I always wanted to take a bath together. And now that we are married...” Tom interrupts himself to slide his arms around your hips, as you take a breath and lean back against his chest. 

“Well now that we are married, I wanted to try it with you. Do you want too?” He murmures with his suave voice, placing a soft kiss against your slender neck as you nod your head. 

“Y-You also brought some champagne, as I see” you notice, still overwhelmed in the warm embrace of your lover. 

The bottle in an ice bucket and two flutes glasses are nicely presented on a wooden coffee table next to the bath. Tom nods against your cheek, leaving another kiss there. With a pounding heart you nuzzle your face against his, feeling his smooth face on your lips and his natural scent filling your nostrils. 

"Can I undress you? Or we can undress each other? Piece... by... piece..." Tom places a kiss after each word, making you feel all warm and tingly as he then trails his hands down your hips and massages your thighs under the summer dress you decided to wear tonight.

"Ah... I like the sound of that. Can I go first, please?" you shyly ask, looking at him through your long eyelashes.

After moving you to the center of the bathroom, Tom turns your body around to face him and agrees to your demand. He is unsurprised when you start unbuttoning his stripped white and lavender shirt. Letting it fall at his feet, he takes his cue and bends down to his knees, running his hands up and down both your legs up under your dress. 

You can't take your eyes off his sleek and sculptured chest muscles. Your fingers wander along his neck to then stop on his broad shoulders. 

Smirking at your focused eyes Tom takes the edge of your dress to pull it up your hips, your thighs finally at his mercy. As he purposefully has a gander at your black coloured panties, he gives both your thighs a nice warm kiss and then stands up while tugging your dress upend off your entire body.

A pant full of desire escapes your lips so Tom takes a little initiative and grabs your hand to place it on the front of his darted white pants, encouraging you to unbutton and slide the zipper down. Which you do after a few seconds of looking into his lustful brown eyes, pushing at the waistband before the material gladly slips down his long legs and pools around his ankles.

He kicks his pants away before encouraging you to approach him closer. But you stop him and with trembling hands, you slowly unclasp your bra, not daring to look directly at Tom as your cheeks keep flushing.

His tongue licks his bottom lip admiring the outline of your breasts coming into view. Tom thought you would be a little reluctant to completely undress in front of each other, even if he has seen your gorgeous curves before but you surprise him by taking the first step yourself.

With blushy cheeks, you still hide your almost exposed tits with an arm. Tom can't help himself when he steps up to your body and presses your bare chests together, meeting you in the middle for a kiss. The feeling of your soft breasts is a complete and utter turn on for him, as his hands began to gently explore your body a little by caressing around your hips and down your back before dipping one into the back of your panties to give your bottom a nice squeeze.

A moan of his name hazes into his mouth as you wrap both your hands around his rippling back muscles, while you can feel him greedily wanting to pull down your last remaining article of clothing. 

But you feel he doesn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to. Or maybe... will Tom actually interrupt everything like before dinner? That would be even worse, just by analysing the current situation you are in. Despite being a little jittery with tones of questions in mind, your own hands slide down his hips and push at his boxers, blushing at the way they easily slide down his legs lower on his v-line.

"Adventurous, little missy?” Tom teasingly rasps when you can't help but fully eye his now well endowed manhood for the first time. 

It is not surprising that you stutter out an answer and tilt your face away, but it gives him a moment to caress down your stomach and grip the waistband of your panties and lower them leaving you both equally naked.

Your hands shake with embarrassment but since Tom is not hiding himself, you try to adapt some of his courage and allow the man you love to have an unhindered view of your body that he has desired for so long. And he takes full advantage of bouncing his eyes up and down with zero shame.

"Dammit baby, have I ever told you how beautiful I think you are?" he groans softly in defeat, nestling his face in your neck.

A smile slides up your lips as you whisper you feel the exact same way, causing him to face you again and cup both of your cheeks for a nice warm kiss. Once you part, he leads the way into the tub which is delightfully warm enough and encourages you to sit between his legs. 

At first you are still a bit shy about that but don't really have a choice as you both slide down and sit in the water. Your heartbeat is thundering, which doesn’t help the fact you can properly feel the shape of his cock against the bottom of your ass. It is way too late to shy away now. Tom is indeed hard, clearly turned on from having his naked wife in his arms for the first time. Leaning forward, he gives the nape of your neck a warm and sensual kiss while both of his hands caress up and down your now soaked legs.

"Mhm, Tom... Y-you can touch me..." you murmur to him leaning back and allowing him more access to your neck, which he takes advantage of with many more kisses and several gentle nibbles, enjoying your flavour.

"Where would you like me to touch you, gorgeous?"

Taking a breath, your hands slide under the water and grab both his, placing them against your breasts. Your matching golden rings make contact and instantly, Tom starts slowly and sensually groping them, earning some very satisfying skin tingling moans of his name from your perfectly pink lips.

"You make my mind so hazy, Tom... All the damn time" you whisper between light moans, his large hands making wonders.

Deciding to explore another part of your body, his fingers pet down your stomach and edge your legs further apart before gliding down the womanly outline of your slit. 

"A-ah, Tom...!" you whimper out of surprise, but his touch is slow and sensual and it assures you he just wants to make you feel good.

When your body starts to relax, Tom continues his soft pleasuring of your lower lips, while still squeezing one of your breasts and kissing both your neck and shoulder several times. The moment he curls one digit between your warm folds, your entire body spasms with waves of foreign pleasure.

You begin panting, as if showcasing how unprepared you were for this sensation. But he calms you down using his free hand to push your cheek to meet his lips while he works a slow rhythm of back and forth. Quickly, the curl and sway of his slender digit starts to feel utterly amazing so he slowly adds a second one, making you moan of pleasure.

 “O-oh, Tom! I-It feels so good!”

Tom grins as he nips at your neck to feel the vibrations of your mewls of delight, while he notes the subtle difference between the sticky sensation starting to warm his fingers and the water around. However after pleasuring you for awhile he pulls away and whispers into the rim of your ear, his desires to continue this in bed.

“(Y/n), I want you so fucking bad and I want to thoroughly enjoy you” Tom growls as he nibbles your lobe between his teeth, slightly tugging it.

It sounds almost desperate and what can you say? You were as much desperate as he is right now, so you have no intention of denying him after coming this far. You prove your husband how deeply in love you are with him by turning in his lap, wrapping both hands around his neck and deeply kissing him.

Using his amazing upper body strength to pick you up bridal style, he lets the water thoroughly drip from both your bodies before taking careful steps out of the tub. Thankfully, there is a rug on the floor so he doesn't slip or slide as he rests your butt down against the sink. 

You smile at him with soft pink cheeks as he tries to dry you off a bit. But it is pretty much a lost cause since Tom just admires your body for the most part. He uses another towel to dry himself off a little before being very direct with the way he pushes apart your knees and picks you back up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his back and making you blush brightly as your hands cling to his broad shoulders.

The next thing you know, your back is laying against the soft mattress where he instantly starts some very sensual kisses. Starting with your lips and working down to your neck, eventually claiming one of your soft nipples. 

"Mhm Tom, I love your kisses so much" you practically purr to him, unable to do much but run your hands through his brown locks and down just a bit of his smooth back muscles. Honestly, you are kind of grateful for his hungry desire to take the lead, as the way he is sucking and licking between both of your breasts just feels sensational.

His coffee orbs glance up as he lets go of one of your tits with a juicy pop and notes your closed eyes and relaxed features, finding it a nice time to go further south. He places soft kisses down your bellybutton, which let you know where he is going but you assure yourself you are okay as long as it is him.

With a lift of your leg, his eyes graze over the intimate pink outline of your womanhood, but he doesn't go towards your sex right away. His lips kiss softy at your inner thigh, bringing tingles up your spine as you find his slowness and need to appreciate all your body romantic and endearing.

"Your skin is so damn soft... And your smell is driving me crazy" Tom growls again, gliding his tongue up as he eases apart your knees until the tip of his wet muscle laps over the middle of your slit before instantaneously turning it into the most intimate French kiss you could ever imagine.

"O-oh! K-kissing me right there... i-is strange...!" you shyly murmur, gripping both of your hands against the sheets. But soon all you can think of is the enthralling sensation of his tongue as he thoroughly slides between your folds and thrusts back and forth, turning you into a moaning and mewling mess.

One of your hands finds its way into the back of his hair, where you give a few tugs in the throws of your pleasure. In turn both of his hand glide up your hips to keep you in place, while he continued to eat you out like one of the best meals he ever had in ages.

At this point, you are not sure if you are being loud or too quiet anymore, but the answer doesn’t really matter as the passionate sway of his tongue is talented enough to have the oddest sensation warming the pit of your stomach. But you don’t have the time to ask him because you are experiencing your very first orgasm.

"H-hah, fuck... You taste amazing, baby" Tom husks as he pulls back to lick the slick sweet essence of your arousal from his lips. He then wipes off the bottom of his chin before rising above your body to caress one of his hands against your cheek and give you a hasty kiss that lets you taste yourself.

“Oh Tom, I love you so much" you mutter during his flavourful kisses when suddenly, you can clearly feel the tip of his cock poking against your inner thigh.

"I love you too, so much” Tom kisses your lips a last time. “Ready to enjoy the ride, my beautiful wife?”

And as words are about to leave your mouth, Tom moves his face closer to you ear.

“And no need for me to take any blue pill, right?”

He for sure means it to sound like a tease. At a time like that. Well, it wouldn’t be Tom if he didn't remind you of the day you non-naturally made him excited because he was being such a brat. And remembering it right now is even worse, judging by the redness of your cheeks.

“S-Stop with that- aah!”

Yet again he does’t let you speak fully as his hips slide up to press the tip of his cock at your entrance. Griping both hands against your own, he fills you to the brim with his girth in a slow but smooth thrust.

"Ah-mhm... Ooh, Tom" you mumble of slight discomfort but you quickly assure your husband it doesn’t specially hurt too much, just feels sensational and unbearably tight at the same time. 

He kisses your neck and lets you know you could claw or squeeze him as necessary if you feel any pain, which has you smiling and returning a peck to his cheek and another to his neck nuzzling him like a kitten.

"You can move Tommy, I'm okay..." you whisper into his ear, pulling back to meet his eyes where he most certainly doesn’t need to be told twice as hearing you use that particular nickname makes his stomach flip.

So he eases his hips backwards only to slap forward hard enough for you to toss your head and yelp out his name in a moan. 

“Ah! Tommy!”

You feel him rock the most dizzying rhythm into your body that it has you squeezing his shoulders and moaning his name on harmonious repeat. That was the sexiest tune he has heard in his entire life. The sound of your voice and the pleasured look in your eyes feeding his desire all the more, as he thrusts his hips back and forth and then growls like an animal about how tight you are squeezing him.

"S-shit, I can feel how wet you are baby... Practically dripping all over my cock" he rasps while biting warmly at the side of your neck, to give you a mixture of possessive teeth marks and bright purple hickey.

You can’t even muster a reply as he picks up your legs and slides his warm strong hands under your ass to ensure he could pick up his pace to fuck you faster and deeper. Which you doesn’t seem to mind because your hand squeeze his sweaty back, and get off on both the pleasure and the sweet smell coming from his body.

He smirks before sharply claiming your lips, thrashing his hips back and forth and sloshing your juices that lets you know he wasn’t lying before when he said you were wet. That along with the accompanying smell of raunchy sex has your mind become so overly dizzy and hazy that you can barely concentrate.

His hips become sloppy with his desperation and you completely understand that feeling as you cling to him, even dragging a few of your nails down his back not really out of any pain but more so the intense sensation tightening in the pit of your stomach. With a few more hard and deep thrusts that rock both your bodies in perfect unison, Tom presses deeply into your tight pulsating folds allowing you both to achieve release simultaneously.

One hell of scream leaps from your vocal chords as the most vision blurring orgasm of the night sways through your system. Slowly Tom eases your bottom back down to the mattress since he has sort of propped up your lower body for those few aggressive minutes. 

When coming back to his senses, Tom pulls out of your core causing you to hiss from the loss of being so full. He pants almost as heavily as you and after proudly and hungrily admiring both your mixed juices coming out from your core, the man slides down tiredly next to your side.

"How... do you feel, gorgeous?" he huffs, taking a few deep breaths as lazily bringing an arm around your frame to keep you close to his sweaty frame.

"I... f-feel a bit tired... but also good, really good..." you smile to him, cuddling closer and placing a kiss against the middle of his chest before snuggling your cheek against his soft and warm skin. 

He sighs in relief, not voicing how he thought he was being a bit rougher than he meant to be, but instead runs one of his hands down the middle of your back in a soft soothing petting motion.

“Damn, the champagne!” Tom suddenly shouts out of nowhere, startling you a bit.

Tom reluctantly detaches from you, not without a sloppy kiss and stil butt naked, he runs back into the bathroom and comes back with the bottle in one hand and the flutes on the other. You also notice a small towel hanging on his shoulder, probably to clean you both from your previous activity.

You giggle at him, smiling warmly letting the thumping of his heart lull you as you finally share a glass of champagne, still naked and bodies tangled together and into the soft sheets. Both of you hold each other tightly, letting each other’s heat warm your bodies and just keep chatting until your eyelids feel too heavy  to stay open.

Life sure feels great.

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[mysticstorytime]

Definitely recommend you listening to the linked song while reading this one. :)

“Hot damn,” he’s circling you with his compliments. You let him get a good look twirling and posing. “You look absolutely stunning,” he pretends to burn his hand on your hip as he reaches for you.

“Always the gentleman,” you giggle letting Keigo wrap his arm around you and guide you into the restaurant. He kisses your neck gently briefly whispering in your ear how delicious you looked. Suppressing the knot your stomach immediately tied, you push his face away.

“If you behave, just this once, you might even get a bite,” you bite the air at him. He pretends to flinch returning to your side. In your banter, you didn’t notice the host opening the doors to you and Keigo. He gestures for you both to proceed to your reserved table.

“Milady,” Keigo extends his arm to you walking you to the table he specifically chose.

“Wow,” the restaurant felt more like a dining hall. The lights were huge, ornate and far too beautiful. From the simple yet elegant decor to the attentive staff, something had to be up.

“For you,” he pulls out your chair smiling to himself. He couldn’t get his mind off how stunning you looked and that smile... he almost cleared the restaurant to take you right on the table...but not tonight. Not yet.

“Thank you,” lifting your dress, you sit letting him push the chair in for you.

“So what’s the occasion? You get me out here all dolled up for you and no clue what for.”

“Well,” he couldn’t stop grinning to bother pretending to be smooth, “we’ve been together so long I wanted to do something special. For you. For us,” he reached across the table to hold your hand. The warmth was always a comfort to him and he longed for it as soon as he lost it.

“Oh,” the flush of your cheeks didn’t stand a chance in the glimmer from the lights.

“I’ve got three gifts for you tonight, but first, we should eat. You’re gonna need your energy.” Two waitstaff immediately appeared nestling your plates in between one another dropping glasses, silverware, and plates alike.

“Oh, thank you so much,” they nodded and as quickly as they appeared, exited.

The meal proceeded in the sweetest way. He had thought of everything you liked and it was prepared the way you wanted. The small talk, albeit normal, was so much more special. Your heart thudded in your chest excited for the next gift, but even more so that he wanted to give you so much. The treat of the night didn’t stop at the suit he had donned for the night nor the restaurant he reserved, not the compliments and not even the tender way he smiled at you across the table. His hand didn’t leave yours the whole meal like he was afraid if he let go, you’d float away.

The food was done and small talk had dissipated to a silence indicative of the next stage.

“Alright, song bird,” he stands dusting off crumbs, “first gift.” His grin was so proud you couldn't hide the excitement. He walked up to the stage next to your table, grabbed the mic, and looked out to the vacant audience.

“Ladies and gentletables, I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening of food and festivities, but there is a main event I’d like to present to you,” he turns to you, locking his gleaming eyes on yours. The world melted away with his words...with his attention.

“This is for you, baby bird,” he clears his throat and begins a soft tune. The piano picks up in the background, but the sound existed only for Keigo’s voice to carry it. His voice took on a deep and smooth melody that wrapped you in silk and memories. The nights you had spent in each other's company and the days you spent longing for those nights flooded your consciousness, eventually seizing your heart. The song spilled promises you had only whispered and made them tangible in your tears. You hadn’t even noticed the guitar until the wetness on your cheeks brought you to reality. Before you know it, the melody had ended.

He stepped down from the stairs, walking towards you with the brightest smile you’d ever seen. He was hiding something under that grin of his and sure enough he pulled out a box from his suit.

“Baby, I adore you and every time I get to see you is like the first time I saw you. My heart is on fire and I just want to fly with you,” his immediately unfurled two big beautiful ruby wings flapping gently around you, “I want every day of my life to be like this moment...like that moment,” the tears were streaming down your cheeks but his smile held back his own, “will you BEEP BEEP BEEP!”

“What’d you say?” You laugh through the confusion. You hadn’t heard a word he had said.

“I lo-,” EEEEEEEEEEE

His mouth...his words...it was a noise. A familiar noise….almost like an….alarm.

---------

Your eyes snap open to the blurry picture of your ceiling taking the place of a date night that’d never happened. To your left, a man was stirred awake turning to face you. His eyes were the same yellow and his smile was still genuine, but why were they so different from the man you knew a minute ago?

“Hey,” he kissed your forehead, but it didn't have the same spark, “what’d you dream about?” He smiles at you rubbing your cheek with his palm. His eyes seemed mildly concerned, but for the most part, you knew it was short lived and shallow.

“Nothing special,” you could almost cry, “hey...when are you going to tell her...about us?” You asked this question before so many times only to be met with the same outcome. The same answer. The same feeling.

He stops rubbing your cheek, withdrawing his hand. His face had changed to that same cold and frustrated expression every time you brought it up. It was inconvenient. Being a secret was never the plan, but being the other woman wasn’t either.

“Why do you always ask that? It’s almost like you don’t want me here,” he kisses your forehead and gets up retrieving his clothes from the floor and assembling them on himself.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you sit up, covering yourself with your blanket. He always did this. Made a joke. Gave you a kiss. Promised he’d do it. Rinse and repeat.

“Look, song bird, everything will work out so you don’t need to worry your pretty little head, ok?” He grabbed his shoes in one hand and took your face in his other. “You know how I feel about you.” His kiss was warm...and empty.

He always knew how to look so genuine and just what to say. Sometimes you forget where he goes during the day or that he only manifests at night. As the door closed and you heard the lock click, you wonder what’d happen if you told his wife what he’d been doing for all this time. Wonder what his friends would say. What would he do to you? The ending was always the same though; you’d never see him again. He’d never hum that sweet song that’d make aphrodite envious of the love you never really had. Your bed would either be bigger in his absence or occupied with your thoughts. His wings would never hold you and his hands wouldn’t ground you in a place only he and you knew.

Reality was so bitter.

#hawks x reader #bnha keigo #fanfic #enjoy~ #my hero academia #mha #cheating fanfic #no smut #just pain #angst #:) #Youtube #mha takami keigo

[shelby-love]

JAY HALSTEAD

“Take the shot.”

Requested: no

Prompts: none

Warnings: angsty?

Authors note: /

"You don't go in until I say you go in, understand?" Your Sargeant paces in front of you. Everyone in your team is standing next to each other while they wait for other detailed instructions. "Halstead you're with Lindsay. Dawson you're with Y/LN. Olinsky and Ruzek I'll meet you in the back. Everybody if you get shot, you take the shot and we'll get you to the hospital before you die. I want that man dead and I want him dead today do you understand me?"

Everyone let's out a series of yes Sargeant before Voight dismisses you and you all pile up in the cars. You're about to follow Antonio to the car when you feel someone's grip on your forearm. "Be careful out there okay?" Jay looks at you with an uneasy look in his eyes, because he won't be able to cover you today. You used to be partners, but then Voight found out about you two and had to separate you and give you different partners. He didn't want to do it but everyone outside the unit has been pressuring him to do so.

"You take care too." You press your lips to his before pulling away and giving his vest a slap. "Make sure to get shot there." A shot in the vest will hurt and bruise for sure but it's better than having a gun stuck in your arm or something.

"Love you," He winks playfully, kisses you once more and dissappears into his car.

"Do not worry Y/N I'll keep him safe," Erin appears by your side and gives your shoulder a squeeze. You smile at her, "Oh what would I do without you Erin?"

Erin grins and opens her mouth to say something more but a car horn startles her and she runs to join Jay in the car. Annoyed because of the interruption you hop into the car. "Has your wife ever told you that's its not smart to interrupt women talking?"

Antonio casually starts the car and pulls onto the road with ease. "Yes she has but I think I have every right to interrupt two detectives who are talking instead of moving their asses to arrest a serious drug dealer."

"Alright you've got a point Antonio. You've got a point."

***

Antonio and you lean against the wall of the warehouse and wait for Voight to give you the green light so you can bust the door open. There's come kind of commotion going inside but none of them are caused by the police.

"Our side is clear," You hear Erin say in the intern. Antonio meets your eyes and shakes his head. You grip your gun in your hands and wait for the green light. Just as you're about to ask what's going on shots are fired and the commotion inside is at full blast.

"DAWSON, Y/LN GO GO GO!" Voight's loud voice gives you the impression that not everything is going by the plan he had in mind. Please be safe Jay. You think before Antiono busts the door open and the two of you join the loud party in the warehouse.

With your gun in front of you, you and Antiono enter the empty part of the warehouse. Shots can still be heard but just not where you are. The two of you share a look, Antiono brings two fingers in front of him and points to the right side. You nod and start walking in that direction. You notice the drugs on the table in the middle and calculate: there must be at least 45 pounds of heroin and God only knows how much more there is hidden somewhere in the warehouse.

You try to focus on the sounds from around you but there's just so many of them that aren't near you. You've spun around at least dozens of different times because you felt like the shots were behind you. Just as you're about to speak into your radio that your side is clear a man appears behind a big stack wodden pallets and aims his gun towards you. You duck and crouch behind other pallets and avoid the several bullets he sent your way. With calculated movement you stand up and shoot two bullets at him. He missed the second one but the first one went through his shoulder. The man yelps but doesn't give up as he continues to shoot his fire and then runs.

You run after him with your gun still in your hands, aimed at whoevers in front of you. You continue to chase him through rows and rows of different stocked product in the warehouse. The lights go down several different times but you're still hot on his tail.

The lights go down once more and you take a turn but stumble onto something that makes you trip. Crouching down you feel someone's leg. Thinking of the worst you quickly move your hand up and feel a police officer's badge. You radio immediately and press your two fingers to the officers neck. While checking for the man's pulse you notice his very long beard. He's not Jay. "Officer down! I repeat officer down, shots fired by offenders roll in an ambulance 34 22 West Lincoln!"

The man you shot appears behind you and kicks you down. You can't make him out because of the dark so you take out your gun from your holster but once he strikes your stomach unexpectedly with his leg the gun falls from your hold. You decide to grab his leg and pull him down with you. You hear his gun fall to the floor and even in the dark you know that he's having trouble finding it. You regain yourself quickly and pounce at him. Before you can give him a punch that will knock him out cold the lights go on and at that moment he manages to slam his head against yours. You fall on your back but you're quick to jump on him once again to stop him from grabbing the gun.

The next movements are so fast and blurry that you don't even remember them. A fight for a gun on the floor always ends in someone dead. The gun was lost in the fight but somehow the man got it to fire a bullet into your leg. He took your moment of pain to get on top of you. The blood pouring from his shoulder dripped onto your face as he punched you with his healthy hand. You remember the officer that's unconcios on the ground next to you. There's a gun in his holster.

Even though you're in a lot of pain because the bullet and his wobbly punches you still managed to gather strength in your arms to push him off by pressing his gunshot wound harshly. With him off of you you turn and grab the officers gun and without a second thought you send a bullet to the offenders head before all of your strength leaves your body. Now there's only the pain of the stinging punches and a busted lip alongside a bullet in your leg. You grab your radio before you loose consciousness, "Offender down, shot fired by police. Officer down... Jay?"

"Y/N?" His voice is heard in the radio. Shots seem to become less frequent, "Where are you? Are you okay?"

Before your eyes close you see his face hovering over you. Scared of the thought that your brain might be messing with you because of the blood loss you put your hand up to make sure his face is really real. To make sure he's really here with you. "Stay with me baby, stay with me. Y/N look at me... WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT AMBULANCE?"

Your eyes close.

***

Paramedics that arrived on the scene push through the ED with Jay behind them. "Y/N?" Maggie takes in your state before she snaps out of it and focuses at her job, "Dr. Choi gunshot victim, trauma 3! Talk to me Kourtney," Maggie tells the paramedics.

"Y/N Y/LN, a 24 year old female. Gunshot wound to the leg from a three feet distance by a 9 millimeter pistol, sevear blood loss. She's been in and out consciousness, her vitals seem to be okay. Blood pressure fell down rapidly while we were in the ambo but we managed to stabilize it."

"Alright I'll take it from here." Dr. Choi says. "We transfer her on my count! One, two, three!"

"Jay?" Your eyes feel wobbly as you pry them open, "Where's Jay?"

"Y/N take it easy and don't move," Dr. Choi instructs before he takes the medical supplies he needs. He cuts your jeans slowly so he can see the wound better. It hasn't stopped bleeding yet. "We need to call the blood bank for... What's her blood type?"

"O positive," Jay appears by the door and answers immediately. Will joins Dr. Choi the moment Jay answers.

"April you know what to do," April dissappears to order the blood.

There's a lot of voices around you and a lot of bodies but none of them belong to Jay. "Jay?"

"Hang on tight Y/N you're gonna be okay," Will tries to reassure you but fails. When he notices the problems Jay seems to be making in the hall he leaves to comfront his brother - your boyfriend. "Jay you need to calm down and let us do our job! She'll be alright trust me, just stay outside."

"I see an entrance wound but no exit wound. The bullets still in there and I think it scraped a major artery and that's why she's bleeding continuously. Y/N can you move your foot for me?"

You do as doctor Choi says and move your foot in the motions he tells you, the pain of moving it is harsh and you whimper. "Let's get a an x-ray, CT and MRI. We need to do a neurovascular exam and a few blood tests to see her overall condition and we need to get her to the OR once we stabilize her bleeding. April sedate her and page doctor Rhodes for me."

"You'll be okay Y/N." April says and that's the last thing you hear before you fall unconscious.

***

Everyone from the Intelligence is sitting in the waiting room and waiting for Doctor Rhodes to finish the surgery. Will made sure to tell them how optimistic he, doctor Choi and doctor Rhodes were about your contidion. It calmed down 90% of your unit but not Antonio and most importantly not Jay. Antonio blamed himself for sending you there alone. He felt like a terrible partner and a terrible friend.

Jay on the other hand. He didn't feel bad. He felt angry. Angry with himself. With the fact that he let Voight separate you two, he always had your back.

"Jay?"

He would always go in there with a gun in his hands and two thoughts in mind - to catch the bad guys and protect you because nothing mattered to him if you weren't safe. If he was there with you nothing would've happened, he wouldn't let it happen.

"Jay... Hey dude."

But he wasn't there.

"Jay calm down!"

And now you were in there alone and in pain.

Two strong hands halted Jay from his movements and stopped his rigid pacing. "She's going to be alright, you hear me? She's going to pull through. This isn't your fault."

"Isn't my fault?" Jay exclaimed and took a step back. "I was supposed to protect her! I'm her fucking boyfriend, I was supposed to have her back and prevent this from happening! Now she's in there and God knows if she'll-" No, she can't die. She won't.

"Jay-" The doors of the OR open at that exact moment and Connor Rhodes steps out with a smile.

"She pulled through like the champ she is," He announced. "Once she's transferred upstairs you can pay her a visit."

Everyone let out a relieved breath and smiled. Of course she pulled through, she's Y/N fucking Y/LN. Jay crouched down and nested his head in his hands. She's okay. Connor gave Jay's back a slap and left to the ED.

After an hour Jay still sat next to you on a chair and carresed your hand. You were still out because of the medication they gave you but it was now fading away enough for you to open your eyes. Before he noticed that you were awake you had a few seconds to admire his profile. Even with his worried yet relieved expression he was the most beautiful man on earth. He noticed you being awake and immediately smiled. You admired his smile too and flashed him one in return. Your smile was probably a bit woozy because of the meds but who cares. He doesn't, that's for sure.

"You're awake," He said and kissed your lips softly before twining your hands together and kissing your knuckles. Your kunckles were a bit colorful because you used them to fight but he didn't seemed to mind at all.

Remembering what you told him this morning before you went to the warehouse you say, "I'm sorry I got shot in the leg instead of that dammed vest."

A chuckle escaped his lips, "I love you."

The lines on the monitor spiked up drastically at his words. Drastically enough that when Will came in the room he was shocked to see your heartbeat like that. "Y/N are you okay?"

You said nothing but the pink that was tinting your cheeks gave everything away. "What did you say to her Jay?"

"Will you're my brother but the romantic things I say to her are kind of our private business." Your cheeks flushed even more and your heart spiked up even more. Will cheekily smiled and put his hands up mocking surrender. "Alright. I'll leave you love birds to it then."

Once he was out of the room you and Jay looked at each other.

"I love you to Jay."

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago med imagine

[solarune]

so this is love

pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader, (implied) lee jeno x na jaemin

genre: cinderella au, sort of but not really a greek mythology au (the fairy godmother is based off of both the character in the movie/fairytale as well as calypso), fluff, angst

warnings: very vague allusions to abuse (family treats jaemin horribly like in the fairytale, that’s it), unrequited love, uh angst lol

word count: 12,978

summary: as the years go by and you watch jaemin grow up, you begin to forget what your job as his fairy godmother really is: to help him find true happiness.

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a fic this long and i’m honestly very proud of myself. i didn’t think it would be as long as it is but here we are. shoutout to my girl kelly @mingyoongles​ for editing this monstrosity for me ily. this took me so long so i really hope you enjoy it!

You feel a tear slip down your cheek as you fade from view, Jaehyun’s eyes opening just as you vanish from your spot in front of him—along with your spot in his memories. You hear a woman call out his name, feeling your heart pang in your chest when you see the wide smile that instantly appears on his face at the sight of her. She takes his hand in hers and they continue to walk down the busy street, their figures disappearing amongst the crowd in a second.

You hear Jaehyun’s laughter clear as day. The sound makes you smile but causes your heart to break at the same moment. Another person that you’re destined to help and fall in love with but not destined to be loved by in return. You rub at the tattoo of a dolphin on your wrist, wondering again why the Fates had made you a descendent of Calypso and thereby cursed to be unloved forever. 

The world around you becomes blurry as you’re transported somewhere else, only having a few moments to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm down before you materialize in a large bedroom. You see women gathered around a bed and a man kneeling at the head of the bed, clutching what must be his wife’s hand. Your eyes move to his wife just as she opens her mouth and an ear-piercing scream is the first thing that welcomes you to your new assignment.

The first time you meet Jaemin is when he’s exiting the womb.

“One last push, miss, you’re almost there,” a midwife encourages the woman as she grabs a blanket from another midwife beside her, the mother groaning in response as she goes through the last few grueling minutes of labor.

You watch as the child is welcomed into the world, thick hair already sitting atop its head as it cries loudly and flails its arms around. Nurses bustle around the mother as they attempt to clean her up, but the mother only has eyes for her child, immediately reaching her arms out as the midwife walks up to her. She places the child into her arms and the father rushes to her side, the two of them staring down at their beautiful baby. Her hair is matted to her forehead, skin pale, and breathing still shallow from the amount of strain she put in, but her eyes seemed to hold all of the love in the world. “Hello Jaemin,” she whispers as she kisses her baby’s head, her eyes closing as she holds him tighter to her.

The first time you formally meet Jaemin, he’s 4 years old.

Jaemin’s laugh can be heard echoing through the garden as he chases a butterfly around, a wide smile on his face as he clenches and unclenches his chubby hands into fists. You’re seated up on the branches of a tree in the farthest corner of the garden, your legs swinging as a breeze ruffles your blue robe. Jaemin’s parents had left to go out into the town a few minutes ago and had left him under the care of one of their maids. Usually you would never take it upon yourself to babysit him, but something in you told you to keep a close eye on him, and you had learned to trust your gut in the 4 years that you’ve been here.

Never before had you been assigned as someone’s fairy godmother and been forced to watch them grow up. You had always come into their lives at the time that they most needed it, your job being to help them find true happiness. But Jaemin was just born when you had come into his life, so what was there for him to truly need? So for 4 years you kept yourself hidden, watching his mother and father raise him in the estate that you’ve now come to call home (not like they knew though). You had been there during his first steps, his first words, his first snowfall, his first everything—you had been there for it all, invisible but always close at hand.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by a dull thump, looking down at Jaemin and smiling when you see him playing with the ball that his father had given to him just last week. He’s throwing the ball around as he animatedly talks to his imaginary friend, Joonyoung, encouraging him to catch the ball as he throws it higher and higher. Jaemin runs closer to the tree that you’re perched on and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is. That is, until he throws the ball far too high and it ends up getting stuck between the branches right below your feet. You watch the panic flit across his face as he gazes up at the tall tree in front of him, his whole body spinning around as he searches for anyone to help him retrieve his ball. Slowly, the young boy turns back around to gaze sadly at the ball, his lower lip quivering at the fact that there was nothing he could do. 

You feel your heart ache as you watch the first few tears roll down his cheeks and you can’t resist standing up on the branch to help him. You pull your wand out to get rid of the invisibility spell and help you float down to the ground, your feet touching the grass as you think, I’m gonna have to introduce myself eventually. Jaemin watches you with wide eyes as you land in front of him, not even taking notice of his ball as he goes from staring at your face to your blue robe to the white wand in your hand.

“Hello,” you greet him softly, a wide smile on your face as you hold out the ball to him. “Is this yours?” Jaemin nods, slowly taking the ball from your hands as he continues to stare at you in awe. “My name is (Y/N). What’s yours?”

“Jaemin,” he whispers shyly, his ears turning red as he fidgets with his toy.

“Well Jaemin, you should be more careful with your toys,” you gently reprimand him, walking forward to spin him around and urge him back to where he was playing before. “You don’t want to lose them, do you?” The boy walks forward without question but turns around when he doesn’t hear you following him. When he looks back, his eyebrows furrow because you’re nowhere to be found. He glances around the garden, even looking up at the branches of the tree for good measure, but Jaemin can’t seem to find the nice lady that gave him his ball back.

“Jaemin, it’s time to come inside! Your mother and father are home!” one of the maids calls from inside. You watch from your spot against the tree as he runs back inside the estate, shouting excitedly for his parents while the ball lies forgotten in the middle of the garden.

The next time you meet Jaemin, he’s 7. And this time, he realizes you aren’t just a dream.

After the fateful first encounter, Jaemin had convinced himself that it hadn’t actually happened.

Fairy godmothers aren’t real and he definitely knows that magic doesn’t exist, so whoever that woman in the blue robe was was just a figment of his imagination. So his life continues as normal; his parents continue to dote on him the way that loving parents do, he makes friends with the other kids in the town, picks up gardening as a hobby and starts doing it with his mother, and he creates his own little hideout in the tree in the farthest corner of the garden (the same spot that you were sitting in 3 years ago, unbeknownst to him).

Every Saturday, Jaemin and his mother go out into the town’s square to walk through the market. And today, much to Jaemin’s excitement, is Saturday. The sky is bright blue, the birds are chirping, and Jaemin takes a deep breath as he steps out of the estate holding his mother’s hand. You take a deep breath at the same time as him, savoring the sweet smell of the first day of spring. The sun feels delightfully warm on your skin and your magic feels stronger, your senses heightened due to the spring equinox, allowing you to detect even the slightest shift in the magic flowing through the earth. During every solstice and every equinox, your magic is at its peak and you can’t help but be excited every time it happens. You’re not particularly sure why this happens, nobody had ever explained it to you, but it just felt good to know just how connected you are with the earth below you.

You trail behind Jaemin and his mother as they walk to the market, the boy animatedly telling his mother about the squirrel that sat next to him yesterday in the garden. He’s waving his arms every which way, his eyes sparkling while the smile never leaves his face, and in that moment, you can see the uncanny resemblance between mother and son as she smiles down at him.

As his mother looks through a stall’s vegetables, a group of kids calls out to Jaemin, asking him to play with them. The boy turns to his mother, barely opening his mouth before she urges him forward with a, “Go play with your friends, darling. Just don’t be home too late.” He parts from her with a tight hug, a wide smile on his face as he runs towards his friends, the group of boys getting lost in the bustling crowd as you simply stand and watch. You decide to leave Jaemin be for now, allowing yourself some alone time as you wander the streets and browse through the various things that people are selling.

When the sun is at its highest point in the sky, the day finds you in the town square, sitting on the edge of a fountain as you bite into an apple. You tilt your face upwards as you chew, closing your eyes to let all of the sounds and smells wash over you. The beginnings of drowsiness begin to creep up on your body, but when you hear the loud voices of a group of boys, your ears perk up, eyes opening to see what all the commotion is about.

“I can’t believe Jaemin would really just leave us like that, we were in the middle of a game!” a dark-haired boy, whose name you think is Hyunjin, exclaims.

The 3 other boys with him shrug their shoulders, one of them saying, “Maybe his mother wanted him home early. 

You jump up from your seat on the fountain, the apple in your hand falling to the ground as you pull out your wand from your sleeve. Jaemin always came back home by going through the town square because he loved to stop by the bakery to get something sweet to eat. You hadn’t sensed him near you or seen him walk by and you feel your stomach tighten at your worry. Trusting your gut, you wave your wand to transport yourself to wherever Jaemin is.

Leaves crunch underneath your feet when you materialize, the air around you a bit cooler due to the shade that was provided by the forest that you suddenly find yourself in. You can sense Jaemin near you and follow your gut once more, stumbling upon a small clearing and seeing him sitting on a tree stump in the middle. A small, white daisy is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, the boy subconsciously twirling it as he looks around him. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, you rid yourself of the invisibility spell and slowly walk towards the boy, a soft smile appearing on your face when his head whips towards you and the two of you make eye contact.

At your appearance, Jaemin’s eyes widen and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. You can’t help but smile wider at his expression, stopping halfway between the edge of the clearing and where Jaemin is seated. “Hello, Jaemin,” you greet him. “Are you lost?”

Jaemin’s mouth opens and closes for a few seconds, the boy at a loss for words as he stares at you with a mix of shock and wariness. “I-It’s you,” he whispers hoarsely. He clears his throat and continues, “You were the woman in the tree. From before.”

You nod at his words with your hands clasped loosely in front of you, the breeze ruffling your robe around your ankles. “I’m not just a dream like you told yourself,” you chuckle, taking a few steps closer when you see his body relax, though you notice a flush creeping up his neck from your words. “I’m-“

“My fairy godmother.” You look at Jaemin in surprise, the boy flushing an even darker red when he realizes that he interrupted you. You continue walking towards him as he continues talking. “Sorry. But that’s who you are, right? (Y/N), my fairy godmother? My mother would always tell me stories about them when I was younger, but I never really believed her. You’re really real?”

“As real as the trees around us,” you respond, patting the tree stump that he’s sitting on to emphasize your point. “I’ve been watching over you ever since you were born.” Albeit a bit unwillingly, you think to yourself, but he doesn’t have to know that. He scoots over and you sit beside him, looking up at him with a small smile. Whatever it takes to get Jaemin to trust you, right? You are the one responsible for helping him find true happiness after all. You take the white flower from his hand and place it in his hair, and you’re reminded of when Taeyong would do that to you. You spent every day in that florist’s shop, and every day he would place a flower in your hair and your cheeks would turn as red as a tomato, just like Jaemin’s are doing right now. Your chest tightens as you remember Taeyong, but you shake the memories away in favor of staying in the moment. You can’t afford to get distracted right now. 

Jaemin continues to stare at you in awe and you can feel your cheeks heat up a bit at all of the attention. “So,” you say after clearing your throat, wanting to keep the conversation going to fill up the awkward silence. “How about we get out of here, hm?”

Jaemin is only 10 years old when his mother dies.

Standing invisible next to the boy as he holds her hand, you can’t help but shed a few tears for the woman who has strangely come to feel like family to you. She was the spot of sunshine in Jaemin’s life; he would greet her with a bone-crushing hug and sloppy kiss when she came home and would hold her hand every chance he got. His mother meant absolutely everything to him, and you would feel your heart swell at how happy the two would look together. And now their time together, as short as it was in the grand scheme of things, is coming to an end.

You place a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, the boy barely acknowledging the invisible touch that he knows is from you as your thumb rubs circles into the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. You can practically hear his heart break when his mother gives him a weak smile, the sorrow in her eyes telling you that she knows that she only has a few moments left with her son. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to place something in his hand. There’s a flash of gold and then it’s gone, Jaemin’s mother curling his fingers over the object as tears slide down both of their cheeks.

“We’ll meet again soon, I promise,” she rasps out, wiping away her son’s tears as he looks on with a pained expression. “But until that day comes, just know that I will always be with you. And should you need a reminder, you can always open that.”

Jaemin looks down at his hand and opens it, his breath catching in his throat when he sees his mother’s gold locket in his hand—the same locket that his father had given to her for their first wedding anniversary. With her encouragement, he opens it to reveal a piece of paper with the words I love you in her handwriting. 

That same night, Jaemin’s mother dies and the note in the locket has an additional line: I miss you.

At the age of 12, Jaemin’s father tells his son that he’s met someone.

“Is she nice?” is definitely not what he or you expect Jaemin’s initial reaction to be. But then again, he is his wife’s son. Jaemin knew that one day, his father would move on and so would he, and so he accepted the fact that their small family would grow again some day. 

His father tells him that she’s a widow with 2 sons, both of them the same age as him. She had married into nobility but when her husband died of a heart attack, she suddenly stopped receiving financial support from her family. Jaemin feels his heart sink at that; family is family, no matter what. Who could be so cruel as to cut off their loved ones completely like that? Unlike Jaemin, you’re a bit wary of this stranger and her 2 children who are suddenly coming into Jaemin’s life, having felt more and more protective of him as the years went by and especially after his mother died. But for his benefit, you decide to remain positive; after all, he had been raised as an only child for so long, so it would be good for him to finally have company in the large estate.

Days turn into weeks which turn into months, and one year later, you find yourself watching Jaemin lug the last of his stepmother’s trunks into the foyer. You try to keep a scowl off your face as he does so, your distaste in the new members of his family already having been discussed with him previously. You had tried to tell him that they aren’t who they say they are, that you had seen her sons stealing in the marketplace while she turns a blind eye, had seen his stepmother flirting with the widowed butcher for some extra meat, and had seen those boys ruining his mother’s flower garden in the front yard by running through it. But he didn’t listen, always coming up with excuses for them: “You must have been mistaken, the marketplace is always busy so it could’ve been anyone!”, “Perhaps she was just being nice, did you even hear their conversation?”, “The soil needed to be turned anyways, so if anything, they helped!”

The last excuse had surprised you, probably even himself as well, because you had seen a flash of hurt cross Jaemin’s face when you mentioned the flowers. Gardening was something he only ever did with his mother, always offering to carry the bags of soil or the heaviest flower pots. The two would work tirelessly to create the most beautiful plots, their clothes soaked-through with sweat and Jaemin’s entire body covered in dirt by the time they were done.You had hoped that he would get back into it after a while, but after seeing him burst into tears whenever he tried, you suppose it’s better that he stopped.

He looks over at Donghyuck and Renjun (his new brothers, he reminds himself) lounging around in the living room, brushing it off when he sees them throwing a ball back and forth—they were probably tired from all of the packing and the journey to their new house. Meanwhile, you’re narrowing your eyes at the two boys because something is telling you that their exhaustion is just an act.

“That’s the last of them, stepmother,” Jaemin says cheerily as he turns to the woman in question. She gets up from where she was sitting on the grand staircase, warm smile on her face as she approaches him. Your eyes follow her figure as you sit on the railing of the stairs, legs swinging in tandem with the swish of her hips.

“Thank you very much for your help, Jaemin,” she says while pulling him into a one-armed hug, the other preoccupied with holding her rather mean-looking cat. “We’re all very tired from the move, as you can imagine. Even poor Woong-ie is exhausted.” She holds up the cat in front of Jaemin’s face and he reaches out to pet him, but jumps back when the feline hisses and tries to scratch him.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Jaemin says sheepishly, glancing at the cat once more and shocked to find it glaring at him. You shoot daggers at the animal, smirking when you see its fur beginning to stand; even though it can’t see you, it can still sense you.

Just then, Jaemin’s father comes down from upstairs, announcing, “Your mother and I are going out tonight so that you boys can get to know one another without the adults around.” He smiles at his son, ruffling his hair as his new wife links arms with him. “We won’t be home late. Be good.”

“Always,” Jaemin replies after giggling and pushing his father’s hand away. He closes the door behind his parents before entering the living room. “So what do you guys want to do first?”

“Jaemin, Renjun and I are very tired,” Donghyuck sighs as he catches the ball that his brother throws to him without even looking, you rolling your eyes at how dramatic the boy sounds. “Would you mind taking our things up to our rooms? We can get to know one another after. 

“Of course!” Jaemin exclaims, and you could tell that he was mentally berating himself for asking his brothers to play when he already knew how tired they were (though he didn’t actually know, much to your disdain).

He picks up two of the trunks and begins his trek up the stairs, eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically when you materialize. The trunks float out of his hands and up the stairs and Jaemin has to stop himself from squeaking, scrambling up the stairs and grabbing them before his brothers could see. “(Y/N), have you gone mad?” he hisses at you as he takes the stairs two at a time. “What if they suddenly come out and see you?” 

With a sigh, you slip your wand back into your sleeve, quietly lowering the remaining suitcases back on to the ground before he could notice. “Jaemin, you’re tired too,” you chastise him as you follow him to their bedrooms. “You already carried all of their things into the house, I don’t see why they can’t take their things up to their rooms.”

Jaemin waves off your grumbling, bounding down the stairs to grab another two trunks. “I need the exercise anyways,” he says with a wide smile. “I haven’t been getting as much since I stopped gardening.”

Your shoulders sag when he says that, eyes following him wordlessly as he continues. He lugs the six trunks to their respective rooms after denying your help, and you wonder just how much stuff they own as he makes his way down the stairs once the last one was placed in Renjun’s room. He stands in front of the stairs with his hands on his hips, panting from the effort as he looks around at the finally empty foyer. With a satisfied sigh, he makes his way back towards the living room, almost tripping over Woong in the process, only to find his brothers gone and the front door ajar.

Another year passes, and Jaemin faces nothing but open doors and empty rooms; nothing has changed. Jaemin is still kind as ever to his stepmother and siblings, blissfully unaware at the fact that he’s constantly being taken advantage of. His father doesn’t take notice of these things because he spends almost all of his time at work now to make ends meet for his 2 new sons, wanting nothing more than to eat dinner and go to bed when he comes home. But then all of a sudden, everything changes.

At the age of 14, Jaemin’s father dies. And you are the only person that Jaemin has left.

At the sound of the first bell chime, you appear in Jaemin’s room perched on the windowsill, the sun warm on your back. At the third bell chime, you sigh because you know you’re going to have to force him out of bed again. At the final seventh bell chime, you wave your hand and the blankets are ripped off of him, the boy groaning the second his body is exposed to the chilly morning air. You watch in amusement as he blindly fumbles around for the blanket, huffing out a laugh when he sits up to glare at you with his hair sticking up in different directions. “Can’t you just let me sleep in for once? It’s been 5 years, I deserve at least 10 more minutes.” He squints against the morning sunlight, hands coming up and running through his hair in an attempt to flatten it down.

The way his hair is sticking up and his tired grumbling remind you of Jaehyun and how difficult it was to get him up in the mornings, but you quickly push those memories down. Jaehyun was the past, you have to focus on Jaemin now. No use in thinking about what could’ve been with him; what could’ve been with any of them had you not been cursed. “Excuse me, I seem to recall that you are the one that asked me to wake you up every day if you weren’t up by the seventh bell,” you retort, flicking your wrist so that the blanket is thrown in his face. “I’m just doing what you told me to.” 

“Yeah well, maybe the reason I’m not truly happy yet is because I have to wake up so early,” Jaemin jokes, his natural good mood already starting to appear. “Let me wash up and then I’ll get started.”

You nod at that, leaving his room in the tower quietly to allow him to get ready for the day. At this early in the morning, you knew that no one else would be awake so you take the time to walk through the deteriorating estate. With a wave of your wand, the windows, curtains, and carpet in the corridor are cleaned, the remaining bits of lingering magic leaving a soapy scent in the air. You try not to interfere with Jaemin’s chores too much, per his request, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself. You stop in front of a large portrait of his father and sigh, your mind wandering back to the early days of Jaemin’s father’s death.

You remember how absolutely heartbroken he was to go through the death of his other parent, knowing that although he still had a family, his true family was gone. But just as always, he pushed through. He did everything he could to help around the house, and as money continuously got tight, more and more of the staff left until it was just Jaemin. And you knew the truth; you knew that his stepmother and step-brothers were just squirreling it away for themselves, only providing the bare minimum to put food on the table and to buy new clothes. You knew the truth and you told him, but Jaemin refused to let that stop him because if he did, who would do all of the work that needed to get done? So for the past 5 years, Jaemin has essentially been a servant for his family, cooking and cleaning and taking care of the animals in his family’s huge estate because there’s no one else. And you have hated every minute of it.

“(Y/N), what did I tell you about doing my chores for me,” Jaemin chastises you, stopping to stare at the portrait of his father next to you with a smile on his face. 

“It was just the corridor this time, I didn’t do anything else,” you huff as you cross your arms, your heart jumping in your chest when you look up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. Out of all of the people you’ve been sent to help, Jaemin is definitely your favorite. With a heart of gold, bright smile, and sparkling eyes, it’s hard not to fall in love with him. 

For the rest of the day, you follow Jaemin around as he does his various tasks around the house, talking to him and keeping him company while you watch. You don’t even bother to try to help him secretly because you know he’ll just end up catching you anyways (he somehow always knows, and part of you wonders if he’s able to detect magic). A drop of sweat slides down the side of his face as he scatters food along the ground for the chickens and you walk over with a towel to wipe it away. He smiles at you gratefully and you falter, the towel lingering against his face as you stare up at him. He’s certainly not the same quiet little 4 year old that got his ball stuck in a tree, you think to yourself as you appreciate the angles of his face, face flushing as the two of you continue to stare at each other. Jaemin opens his mouth to say something and you can feel yourself leaning closer to him, but the moment is interrupted by the ringing of 3 bells. 

“Jaemin!” 3 voices yell simultaneously, and you sigh as Jaemin rushes inside, scrambling to balance the 3 trays in his hands to bring to his family for their morning tea.

“Open in the name of the King!” a gruff voice yells from outside following 3 loud knocks. Your back straightens as Jaemin scrambles to get up from where he was sat on the floor, rag and bucket of soapy water abandoned as he opens the door. He reveals a man dressed in uniform, various medals decorating his chest as he exclaims, “An urgent message from His Imperial Majesty!” He pulls out an envelope from inside his jacket and hands it to Jaemin, bowing deeply while the boy stutters out his thanks, and Jaemin watches as he scurries back into his carriage, presumably to deliver more letters.

You stand on your toes to try to peer at the letter from behind him, calves straining as you struggle you get higher. You don’t notice the way you’re leaning on him and holding on to his arm for a better look until your eyes flick up and are staring directly into his. You almost choke at the close proximity and immediately take a small step back, tucking your hair behind your ear as you keep your eyes on the envelope in his hands. The curse, you remind yourself. Remember the curse. But it’s no use; you love him, there’s no denying that. “W-What does it say?” you stutter, a frown appearing on your face when Jaemin suddenly turns and begins to make his way upstairs. “Where are you going?”

He stops on the stairs to smile at you, waiting for you to catch up as he runs his thumb over the ink on the envelope. “You know that stepmother will have my head on a plate if I dared to open this before her.” He shakes his head at you before continuing up the stairs, the strumming of a guitar becoming clearer as you walked. “Besides, I think it’s time for their music lesson to have a break, don’t you think?” You laugh at that, Renjun’s incorrect guitar chords and Donghyuck’s unstable vocals making the both of you wince as you get closer to the study. 

At the sound of Jaemin’s knock, Donghyuck stops singing and you hear the bang of piano keys before his mother lets out a sharp, “Yes?”

Jaemin opens the door slowly, face sheepish as his gaze meets the smug ones of his siblings. “I’m sorry to interrupt-“

“Then you shouldn’t have in the first place,” Donghyuck sneers, he and Renjun laughing to themselves as their mother shushes them with a smile on her face.

“B-But this letter just arrived from the palace,” Jaemin stutters out, and you swear that you could hear his heart racing in his chest from Donghyuck’s teasing. Your hands tighten into fists at your side but you urge yourself to calm down, knowing that there’s unfortunately nothing you can do.

“From the palace?” Renjun repeats, him and his brother rushing over to rip the letter from Jaemin’s hands. “Give it to me!” He and his brother fight over who gets to open the envelope, their mother grabbing it from the both of them before they could ruin it.

“Boys, calm yourselves,” she scolds them softly, the both of them rolling their eyes before urging her to read it. “There’s to be a ball,” she gasps, looking up at her sons with wide eyes. 

“A ball?” they repeat, equally as shocked.

“In honor of Her Highness, the princess,” their mother continues.

“The princess?” the boys repeat once again. You’re starting to wonder if this family has more than 3 collective brain cells, 2 of which belong to their mother.

“And,” she finishes, pausing for what you guess is dramatic effect. “By royal command, every eligible gentleman is to attend.”

“That’s us!” Renjun exclaims, grasping his brother’s shoulder tightly as he looks at him excitedly.

“And I am much more than eligible,” Donghyuck smirks, a hand coming up to run through his hair to sweep it back.

“That means I can go too!” Jaemin gasps as he steps forward to glance at the letter. He steps back when his family looks up at him, and you take a protective stance in front of him, invisibly glaring at his step-siblings as they laugh at him. “Why are you laughing? I’m still part of the family. And besides, it said ‘by royal command, every eligible gentleman is to attend’. I have to go!”

“Just imagine you dancing with the princess?” Renjun guffaws, he and his brother falling over each other from how hard they were laughing. “Oh, I would be honored, Your Highness! And might I say that my dish rag goes very well with your dress!” The two of them dance in a circle to mock Jaemin even more, Jaemin’s shoulders sagging at their words.

“The dirt underneath the princess’s shoes is worth more than the dirt on your face,” Donghyuck sneers, letting out a laugh when Jaemin subconsciously rubs at his cheek. “Face it, Jaemin, you’re just going to embarrass us.”

“Boys, that’s enough,” their mother finally says, effectively quieting them. “Now I see no reason for Jaemin to not attend the ball as well.” Jaemin’s eyes, as well as yours, widen at her words; where had this sudden change of heart come from? “That is,” she says, turning her eyes directly on him and raising an eyebrow. “If you get your chores done. And of course, if you’re able to find something suitable to wear.”

Jaemin reveals his outfit to you with a flourish, grinning from ear to ear as he holds it in front of his body and admires himself in the mirror. “It was my father’s,” Jaemin says softly. “He outgrew it and knew that I would grow into it. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You will admit, it is quite beautiful. The jacket and vest are a deep red color with gold trimming and gold vines around the wrist and upper chest area. There are gold buttons on each side of the opening, and the back is longer than the front. The pants had a similar design with the vines running down the side of the legs. But you just couldn’t get over the number of ruffles and dangly bits around every single edge of clothing possible. “It is beautiful,” you agree. “But perhaps a bit… Outdated.”

He chuckles softly at that, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you. “The ruffles and things are a bit much, aren’t they?” he asks, wrinkling his nose in response to you wrinkling your own and nodding. “Well that’s no matter. I’ve actually been planning out how I want to fix this up for a few years now.” He crouches down and begins searching for something at the bottom of his wardrobe, his voice muffled as he continues, “I drew it out in the back of an old design book that mother had… If only I could find it…” Just before Jaemin can begin his search in the very back of his closet, the shrill shriek of his stepmother’s voice calling for him makes him jump. He lets out a sigh as he stands up, squeezing his eyes shut as you brush the dust out of his hair. He smiles at you gratefully and then runs towards the door, casting one more glance back at you and his father’s suit before running down the stairs.

“He’s never going to be able to fix this if that wench keeps calling him down for useless chores,” you mutter to yourself, rubbing the fabric of the sleeve between your thumb and forefinger as you get lost in thought. You know that Jaemin’s stepmother has every intention of keeping him busy until the ball, but maybe…

Your posture straightens when Donghyuck’s voice floats up from downstairs, complaining about his black trousers having a stain on them and “how am I supposed to marry the princess with a stain on my trousers, mother?” The gears in your brain begin to turn when Renjun’s voice immediately follows with a “I’ve had this shirt for nearly two years now, I have nothing new to wear!” After a slam and a thud, you’re bounding down the tower stairs so fast that it feels as if the winds of Zephyr himself were carrying you down. Lying on the floor of the foyer is a pile of clothes deemed unworthy by Renjun and Donghyuck’s standards but considered a luxury in Jaemin’s eyes. You pick out the pants with the stain and Renjun’s “old” shirt, rifling through the pile for anything else that could be of use. You hear a door open behind you and immediately turn around, the breath that you had unknowingly been holding exiting your mouth in a soft sigh when you see that it’s just Woong. The feline regards you with narrowed eyes and lets out a hiss at your presence, scurrying out of the room when you narrow your eyes in response.

“Evil cat,” you mumble, gaze still following him as he enters a different room in the house. You gather your things and make your way back up to Jaemin’s room, careful to turn yourself invisible this time in case any of his family was walking around. Once you’re back in his room, you lay out the pants on his bed and place the jacket and shirt beside it. You pull out your wand from your sleeve and get to work, the tip glowing a bright orange as you drag it along the edges of the jacket to remove the fringe and ruffles. It changes to a bright blue color when you move to the dirty clothes and tap your wand on the stains, watching with a satisfied smile as they disappear. You get rid of the design on the buttons of the jacket and vest so that they’re a plain gold and get Jaemin’s nicest pair of shoes from his closet to place them on the floor. With a wave of your hand, the outfit is hung up against the door of the wardrobe and hidden away, waiting to be revealed once Jaemin comes back.

You fall asleep on Jaemin’s bed while waiting for him to finish his chores, your dreams filled with the people that you’ve fallen in love with while helping them find their true happiness. You dream about Jaehyun and his bride-to-be, Sooyoung and her husband in her newly opened bakery, Taeyong and the first time he sets eyes on his lover in his flower shop. Your memories swirl around you in a haze of heartbreak and reluctance, the anger that you feel towards the gods only temporary because you know that no matter what you do, nothing will convince them to lift the curse of Calypso. Jaemin materializes in front of you and you reach out to him, your fingers just brushing against his when he disappears, only to reappear a few feet away from you, smiling at a figure next to him. You can’t make out any features but even in your dream state, you know what this means. His true happiness will reveal itself to him soon.

Your eyes flutter open just as Jaemin’s bedroom door opens, his shoulders slumped as he drags his feet towards the window. “You’re back,” you croak, voice thick with sleep. Jaemin merely hums in response, gaze refusing to leave the night sky above him. You feel sad as you look at him, the feelings from your dream still lingering, but you can feel something else; his own sadness as he looks up at the stars. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the ball?”

Jaemin turns around to reveal his sad smile to you, fingers drumming against the wooden window frame as he shakes his head at you. “My chores took a lot longer than I thought,” he shrugs, and you can tell that he’s trying his best to not look too upset. “Stepmother, Hyuck, and Renjun will be leaving soon and I don’t have enough time to fix father’s suit.”

“About that…” you trail off as you suppress the smile threatening to appear on your face. You wave your wand to open his wardrobe door, revealing to him his outfit of the night. “Ta-da!”

“(Y/N), you… You did this for me?” Jaemin asks in awe, one hand coming up to touch the jacket but withdrawing a second later, as if the clothing would disappear if he were to touch it.

“No, I actually made this for me to wear,” you tease him as you get up from the bed. “Of course I did it for you, silly. Now hurry up and put it on, the carriage will be here soon.”

You and Jaemin run down the grand staircase just as his family is beginning to head out the door, Jaemin’s shouts of “Wait! Wait for me!” stopping them in their tracks. Renjun’s and Donghyuck’s jaws drop as he runs up to them, his hands smoothing over the jacket as he beams at them. “Isn’t it stunning? Do you like it?” At his words, his stepbrothers immediately begin to protest to their mother, and you can’t help but smirk at them invisibly from behind Jaemin.

“Boys, that’s enough,” their mother scolds them, stepping forward towards Jaemin while her sons pout from behind her. “The pants suit you well, Jaemin. Don’t you agree, Hyuckie?” She turns to raise an eyebrow at him as she pinches at the fabric, and you feel yourself stiffen at her question.

“I guess,” Donghyuck replies with dismissive wave, eyes widening when he sees what his mother wants him to see. “Wait, those are my pants! Take them off!” He runs forward and grabs at the waist of Jaemin’s pants, tugging on the fabric harshly while demanding that he take them off.

“And that shirt, that’s my shirt!” Renjun shrieks, running forward to rip Jaemin’s jacket off to get at his shirt.

Jaemin’s protests are drowned out by their shrieks, their hands fluttering around him as they pinch and pull at his outfit until all that’s left is shreds of clothing, his father’s jacket lying torn at his feet. Your eyes don’t know where to look as they flick from Jaemin to his step-brothers to his stepmother. You see Jaemin’s resolve cracking with each hand they lay on him, the irritation and power radiating off of Donghyuck and Renjun as they tear their brother down, and the satisfaction and smugness in the form of a smirk and raised eyebrows on Jaemin’s stepmother. All of this is happening and you can’t do anything but watch, forced to keep yourself hidden from his family rather than stepping in to protect the boy you’ve come to love.

“Boys, boys!” their mother yells, her voice making all of you freeze in place and immediately getting her sons to stop and return to her side. “That’s quite enough. Let’s go, the carriage is waiting.” The three of them make their way towards the front door looking very satisfied with themselves, and all you and Jaemin can do is watch as they get farther away. “Goodnight,” she says with a smile before shutting the door with a dull thud. And that’s when it all comes crashing down.

You turn to Jaemin with wide eyes, your hands shaking with rage when you see him beginning to tremble. “Jaemin,” you say, unsure of what you could possibly say to make him feel better in this situation. He lets out a pained sob and you feel your heart break at just how sad he sounds. “Jaemin, I-” 

Before you can get any closer, he runs. And you let him run past you, allowing him a few moments to himself before beginning your search. You let the sound of his cries guide you to him, gaze softening when you see him at the tree in the corner of the garden. His head is buried in his arms as he sobs on a stone bench, and you’re able to make out a faint “It’s not fair,” as you approach him. You sit on the bench beside his head, your hand coming up to stroke his hair as he continues to cry. “It’s not fair, (Y/N), it just isn’t fair,” he cries, his emotions so strong that they cause your own tears to form. “I’ve tried so hard for so long to believe. Believe that you could help me, believe that I could help myself. But maybe this is just how it’s going to be. Maybe this is where I’m meant to be.”

As he continues to cry beside you, an aura of magic begins to glow around the two of you. It becomes brighter and brighter and the raw power that it exudes becomes stronger and stronger, and you know that your time with Jaemin is coming to an end soon. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you chide. “Everyone deserves to be happy, especially you.” You push his hair away from his face and coax him to look up at you, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks as you smile down at him. “It’s time, Jaemin. It’s time for you to find your true happiness.” You pull him with you as you stand up, giving him your widest smile as you try to hide just how bittersweet this really is for you. “You’re going to Princess Chaeyoung’s ball tonight, I’m making sure of it.”

“But how?” he sniffles, hands squeezing yours as his eyes water once more. “Father’s suit is ruined and I have no way of getting to the palace.”

“Have you forgotten who I am?” you tease as you reveal your wand to him. “Your stepmother may have had a few tricks up her sleeve, but I have a magic wand up mine.” Your heart skips a beat when Jaemin beams at you, hands balling into fists in excitement. “Now close your eyes and count to 20.”

As Jaemin begins counting, the tattered clothes on his body begin to shimmer and transform. The tree behind him uproots itself and bends and twists into the shape of a carriage while 7 chickens are summoned from the barn, 6 to be turned into horses while the last is turned into a coachmen. You look down and see a golden glow around your entire body as the magic does its work, and you can’t help but grimace at the sight. All of this power flowing through your veins and for what? The gods will allow you to use your magic to help people find true happiness but they have forbidden you from using it to find your own. You’ve tried fighting back against your destiny, against this curse, for so long, but they are always watching. 

“Open your eyes,” you say to him when he finishes counting. Behind you sits his horse-drawn carriage, its proud coachmen standing beside it. And in front of you stands the boy you’ve fallen in love with, looking handsome as ever and one step closer to getting his happy ending. You smile softly as he looks at his new outfit, the dark blue velvet of his jacket making the silver detailing stand out nicely. “I kept the original design of your father’s jacket, just made a few changes,” you explain. “I think blue suits you better.” 

With a wave of your wand, you produce a mirror for Jaemin to look at himself in, moving so that you can stand behind him as he analyzes your work. He first fiddles with the jacket, his fingers running over the vines at his chest and the ones running down his sleeves. He then turns every which way to look at the black trousers you’ve created, the silver vines once again running down the sides. Jaemin makes eye contact with you through the mirror and beams brightly at you. “You’ve truly outdone yourself,” he compliments you, spinning around and opening his arms to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, (Y/N), this really means a lot to me.” 

He pulls away from you to stare into your eyes, his own sparkling as he continues to smile down at you. You clear your throat and take a step back from him, willing your heart to stop beating so fast as you explain, “The spell will only last until midnight-”

“That long? Oh, that’s more than enough time,” Jaemin interrupts you out of excitement.

You give him a pointed look, which quiets him down, and continue. “So make sure you’re home by then. I’ll be more specific: at the first stroke of midnight, the spell will begin to wear off. If you are still at the ball by the twelfth stroke, you will be stuck at the palace in your tattered clothes. Make sure you’re home before then.”

Jaemin nods along with your words with wide eyes, walking with you as you lead him to the carriage. “I’ll be home by midnight, I promise.”

You nod and open the door for him, watching as he looks at the lush interior and then back at you, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Go,” you urge him softly. “You have a ball to get to.” 

You close the door behind him and watch as the carriage gets smaller and smaller, your stomach feeling like it’s going to turn itself inside out the farther it gets from you—the farther Jaemin gets from you. Before the rational part of your brain can stop you, you wave your wand, and suddenly you’re sitting next to the coachmen. Invisible to all, even Jaemin, you close your eyes as the wind whips your hair back, mentally preparing yourself for the heartbreak that you know will eventually come.

Jaemin is very careful as he walks around the castle towards the grand ballroom, the only sound he hears being the music and muffled chatter from the party getting louder the closer he gets. You’ve never been in a castle yourself so the both of you are taking your time as you walk up the staircase, your eyes wide as you try to take everything in. From the plush carpet underneath your feet to the marble columns on either side of you to the molding and artwork on the ceiling above you, you had never seen anything like it before.

The two of you enter the ballroom, invisible to everyone (but you more so) because their eyes were drawn to Princess Chaeyoung at the front of the room who was greeting every gentleman of every family that has come to seek her hand in marriage. A few steps behind her is her brother, Prince Jeno, and behind him sits their parents, the king and queen. Jeno looks rather bored from what you can tell from the expression on his face, and you can’t help but chuckle when you see him stifle a yawn. The prince’s eyes wander around the room as his sister continues to greet their guests, landing on something that piques his interest and causes his eyebrows to furrow. You follow his gaze and your eyes land on Jaemin, who’s wandering around the edge of the room and peering at the long velvet curtains and the windows that they cover. 

After the princess is done greeting all of her guests, 2 of whom were unfortunately Jaemin’s step-brothers (the both of you had to suppress a grimace at just how hard they tried to impress her in those 10 seconds they had her attention), the king requests a waltz. You hear suppressed groans when all of the young boys around you see that Princess Chaeyoung is dancing with her father for the first dance, and you struggle to not bump into anyone as they all scramble to find a dancing partner. From the corner of your eye, you can see Jaemin also doing the same but he ends up getting pushed in the process, and you begin to rush over to help him when you realize that he doesn’t even know you’re there. And besides, someone had already beat you to it.

Your eyes follow the hand that’s offered to Jaemin, and you feel your heart sink a bit when they’re met with Jeno’s smiling face. Jaemin takes it with a smile, and you watch as the two boys continue to stare at each other. “Hello,” Jeno greets him, and that’s when Jaemin realizes that his hand is still in his, causing him to take a step back as he lets go and bump into the balcony doors behind him as he tries to stutter out a response. “My name is Jeno.”

“Y-Your Majesty,” Jaemin responds, bowing lowly which causes Jeno’s mouth to open and close in surprise, resembling a fish. “Th-Thank you for the help.”

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” Jeno says as he rubs at the back of his neck, face flushing red from embarrassment. “Just Jeno is fine.” The two stare at the floor as they stand in front of each other, both of their faces red as the awkward silence stretches over them. “Do you… want to go outside for a bit?”

Jaemin nods quickly. Anything to get out of this busy crowd. Jeno shuffles behind him and opens the balcony doors, the two of them taking deep breaths of fresh air the second they step outside. You seat yourself on the railing as they stare out into the distance, Jaemin’s eyes sparkling as he gazes out at the town below him. His head turns in your direction and you freeze when his eyes land on you—or well, through you, looking at his family’s estate.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from you to look back out at the view right in front of him, the lights down below making his face glow a dull orange.

Yeah, you think to yourself softly. You are.

Jaemin and Jeno continue to enjoy the view and each other’s company in silence, glad to be away from the bustling crowd and all of the boys vying for the princess’s attention. You block out their conversation as Jaemin asks Jeno about life in the palace and Jeno asks Jaemin about life outside of the palace. With each smile that appears on Jaemin’s face and each laugh that Jeno lets out, your heart sinks further and further. You get up from your spot on the rail and drift down into the palace gardens, no longer in the mood to be at the ball. 

You know what’s coming.

“Jaemin?” you call out, approaching him from behind. He slowly turns to face you, his mother’s locket clenched in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“This was the best night of my life,” he says softly, a fond smile on his face as he looks up at the star-filled night sky. He had just watched his carriage turn back into the tree in the corner of the garden that it originally was, and he can’t help but feel like there’s magic all around him still. “I’m more than okay. But I guess not everything is meant to go as planned.”

“What happened?” you ask, steeling yourself for anything. What could have gone wrong tonight?

He walks forward and shows you the locket, his mother’s face smiling up at you as you look down. There wasn’t a scratch on it. But something felt...wrong. “The note from my mother,” he explains, answering your unasked question. “It’s gone. I stopped outside the palace before leaving and I opened it, just to talk to her for a second, but the knights were catching up to me so I had to run and-” Jaemin pauses, laughing at the confusion on your face. He forgot that you weren’t with him at the ball tonight. “I’ll explain it later. But I guess the wind must have blown it away.”

“W-We can go to the palace and look for it, I’m sure it’s still near wherever you opened the locket,” you reassure him frantically, trying to calm your own rising panic because you know how much that locket and note mean to Jaemin. “We can-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with a hand on your shoulder, soft smile still on his face. “I don’t need a note to keep her close. I know that she’s always with me.” You feel your lower lip wobble at his words, tears brimming in your eyes as you think back to the 10 year old boy who could barely step outside without crying. With a sniffle, you wrap your arms around his middle and shove your face into his chest, your tears soaking his white shirt. He pulls you back and his eyes look over you frantically, trying to figure out why you’re suddenly crying. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

After a few deep breaths and a few seconds to clear your throat, you finally look up at him with watery eyes. “I have been watching over you since the moment you were born, Na Jaemin. I heard your first cry, watched your first steps, heard your first word. I held you close when your mother died, wiped your tears when your father died, and stayed by your side every day. You’ve been through and have grown so much and yet somehow, you’re still the same little boy with a heart of gold that I first met. And I am so so proud of you. It’s truly an honor to know you.” You close your mouth before you can continue, knowing that if you do, you would say the three words you’ve been hiding for so long—the three words that could ruin everything.

“(Y/N),” he breathes out, his own eyes watering from just how moved he is by your words. “Wh-What’s gotten into you, why are you saying all of this? You’ve never-”

His words are cut off when he hears the faint crunch of gravel in the distance, letting him know that his family is coming home. The two of you rush back into the house and up the stairs, the loud voices of his stepmother and step-siblings drifting all the way up to his bedroom where Jaemin lays with a smile on his face. He made a new friend tonight and his best friend just told him she’s proud of him. Life is good.

It’s the next day and Jaemin couldn’t be happier. The two of you are currently in the music room and you’re watching Jaemin sweep while his brothers fool around on the other side of the room, waiting for their mother to come home and start their lesson. You’re perched on top of the grand piano, legs swinging, and you keep shooting funny faces at Jaemin while he does his chores, smiling when you see him try his best to stifle his laughter. 

“I wonder who that boy was,” Renjun speculates to Hyuck as they sprawl out on the chairs in the corner of the room. “That one with the blue jacket that Prince Jeno went up to during the waltz. I heard everyone around me saying that they had never seen him before.”

You feel your stomach drop at Renjun’s words, doing your best to mask your fear but keep the shock on your face as you look over at Jaemin. His back is turned to all of you but you can tell from his slow movements that he’s listening to their conversation now.

“Mother said the same thing too,” Hyuck responds as he picks the dirt out of his nails. “Maybe the prince went out to look for a suitor for the princess but they ended up becoming friends. Apparently, they stayed out on the balcony the whole night, just talking. I even heard the king say that he’s never seen Prince Jeno that friendly with a stranger before.”

Suddenly, his stepmother bursts into the room, causing all four of you to freeze and look at her. “The king,” she gasps, waving Jaemin over and handing him her coat as she tries to control her breathing. “The king has issued a proclamation. Prince Jeno is looking for the boy from last night, the one in the blue jacket. He wants this boy to train alongside him as a knight and the king is willing to appoint him as the prince’s groom of the bedchamber. The Duke has been searching the whole kingdom all night and will be arriving here soon.”

Her sons slump in their seats at her words, not understanding why she’s so worked up about this. “If the prince is looking for that boy, then why should we care? We’re not him,” Hyuck whines.

She takes a few steps forward and points at them. “Nobody knows who this boy is. The only clue that they have is a note that was found lying at the bottom of the stairs where the boy was last seen.” She lets out a sigh of frustration when she’s met with nothing but silence from them. “This means that the boy will get to live in the palace and has the possibility of marrying Princess Chaeyoung since he will already be acquainted with the royal family.”

At that, the two boys shoot out of their seats and run out of the room, only to quickly rush back in and throw piles of clothes at Jaemin. They shout demand after demand at him, telling him to wash their clothes and shine their shoes, but they’re only met with silence and a dreamy look on his face. During their mother’s explanation, you had watched as the wheels in Jaemin’s head began to turn and he understood exactly what this could mean for him; a life in the palace, a life with his new friend, a life away from his cruel family. Here is the chance he’s been waiting for, ready for him to take it.

“Mother, something’s wrong with Jaemin,” Renjun snickers, pointing at the glazed over look in his eyes to her.

“Pay attention, stupid,” Hyuck says loudly as he snaps in front of Jaemin’s face. “The Duke is going to be here soon and we need to get ready.”

Jaemin snaps out of his reverie with a shake of his head, dropping the clothes in his hands to smooth over his own clothes on his body. “Yes, we need to get ready,” he mumbles to himself, much to the confusion of the rest of his family. “We have to look nice for the Duke.” He begins to hum the waltz from last night as he walks out of the room, and you don’t miss the narrowing of his stepmother’s eyes before you exit as well.

You begin to follow him up to his room when he suddenly stops before going up the stairs, causing you to almost run face-first into his chest. “Would you mind making me a cup of tea while I get ready?” he asks you. “I just… I feel too excited right now so I need something to calm me down.”

You laugh at his explanation and nod, watching him as he makes his way to his tower before leaving your line of sight. Just as you’re about to enter the kitchen, you see his stepmother making her way up the stairs, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You grab the jar of tea leaves from the shelf and begin to boil some water, mulling over what she could possibly be up to this time. Suddenly, you hear Jaemin let out a distressed cry which makes you jump, and you take the kettle off the fire before running up to his room.

“Jaemin!” you shout as you bound up the stairs, breathing hard as you run. “What’s wrong?” You turn the handle but find yourself unable to, so you begin to pound on the door. “Jaemin, let me in!”

“Stepmother!” he cries out, and you can hear as well as feel him shaking the door handle in the hopes that it will somehow break and unlock. “She locked me in here! She knows, (Y/N), she somehow knows that I was the boy with Jeno last night. She’s not going to let me leave. Please, (Y/N), use your wand and get me out of here.”

You begin patting down your robe and you feel a chill run through your spine when you don’t feel your wand hidden amongst the fabric. You take it off and shake it out, thinking it’ll just fall to the floor, but you hear nothing. “Jaemin,” you say quietly, but you know that he can still hear you. “I can’t find my wand.” The both of you are silent at your confession, neither knowing what to do but not wanting to discourage the other. “I-It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ll just go find it, it has to be somewhere in the house.” Without waiting for a response, you run back down the stairs as you try to remember the last place you put it. 

Running as fast as you can without missing anything, you check the foyer, the staircase, and the kitchen but come up empty. The last place you can think of is the music room and you pray to every single god you know that it’s there. And funnily enough, they answered your prayers. Except unfortunately, you’re still cursed because the wand is in Woong’s mouth. He’s sat at his owner’s feet, who’s asleep on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, and is gnawing at your wand hard enough to cause sparks to fly out. 

“Good kitty,” you say to him calmly as you slowly approach him. You reach your hands out towards the cat and push down a wave of irritation when the cat scoots away from you. “It’s okay, I just want what’s in your mouth.” And it’s like Woong can understand you because he bites down on it and growls lowly, glaring at you through narrowed eyes. You take a step closer and bite back a groan when he gets up and runs away from you. 

It’s going to take ages to chase that damn cat around, you grumble to yourself in your head. You’re just about to go after him when you spot it: a key about to fall out of Jaemin’s stepmother’s pocket. You wave your hand in front of her sleeping face, making sure that she can’t see you and hoping that she won’t wake up from any movement, before walking closer to her. Slowly, you reach out and slide the key out from underneath her hand, almost jumping out of your skin when you hear a knock from the front door. His stepmother jumps out of her seat and you scramble to get out of her way, her dress fluttering around your ankles as she frantically fixes herself before opening the door. You quickly run back to the tower as you hear her greet the Duke and introduce her sons to him, praying that you make it in time.

You’re out of breath by the time you’re at the top of the stairs, and you’re just about to call out to Jaemin when your words die in your throat as your eyes are once again met with the demon cat. Your wand is still between his teeth and he growls at you, as if threatening to use your own wand against you. Annoyed and tired from running around, you pull back your lips and hiss at him, stunned when he lets out a yowl that causes him to drop your wand before running down the stairs. With shaking hands, you unlock the door while picking up your wand at the same time, urgently saying, “Go, Jaemin, quickly! Before he leaves!”

Jaemin whips past you and bounds down the stairs, not even bothering to check if you’re following him because he knows that you will. You can hear his family saying their goodbyes to the Duke and wishing him well, so with a wave of your wand, you give Jaemin a little push, one that puts him in the sights of the Duke at the very last second.

“Wait, Your Grace!” Jaemin exclaims from the top of the grand staircase as he waves his hands at him. “I’d like to try, if you’ll let me!”

Jaemin’s family’s eyes widen at his sudden appearance, his stepmother patting her now-empty pocket on her dress as all of them stutter out excuses as to why Jaemin shouldn’t have a chance to prove himself. Their protests fall on deaf ears though as the Duke walks forward and gestures for Jaemin to take a seat. He hands him a pen and paper and says, “This note has 2 lines of writing on it. The first says I love you, what does the second one say?”

You feel your heart clench when Jaemin lets out a soft chuckle and writes down the words he wrote all those years ago: I miss you.

You and Jaemin collapse on to his bed, the both of you tired out from packing up all of Jaemin’s things and moving them to the palace. You look around at the room and then turn your head to look at him, a fond smile appearing when you see his wide eyes staring up at the ceiling above him. His room was big, as big as his stepmother’s bedroom at his old home, and you know that it’s going to take a while for him to get used to this kind of lifestyle. Your stare lingers a little too long and you’re forced to meet his gaze when he turns to look at you with a wide smile.

“True happiness looks good on you,” you tease him, though both of you know that you really mean it. There’s no one that you’ve met that deserves to live the rest of his days in happiness more than Jaemin. 

Jaemin sits up and lets out a content sigh, looking around the room once more before turning back to you. “Jeno should be here soon. Do you think it’s a good idea to tell him about you?” he asks and your breath catches in your throat at his words. He takes your silence as shock and continues, “Because I think we should get you your own room. Not that I don’t like sharing a room with you! But also I think it’ll be hard keeping you a secret because I’ll always be around people and it’ll be a bit strange if they see me talking to no one.”

You get up from his bed and stand in front of him, placing your hands on your shoulders as you look down at him with sad eyes. “I don’t need my own room-”

“Oh good, because I actually do like sharing a room with you, and I feel like this big one will make me feel lonely. Maybe-”

“Jaemin,” you cut him off. “I’m not staying here. My job is done, you don’t need me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin asks, not understanding what you’re saying. Don’t need you anymore? You’re his best friend, of course he needs you; he’ll always need you. “You’re my best friend! We just moved into the palace, you can’t leave!”

“I helped you find true happiness,” you explain as you take a step back and draw your hands away from him. “It’s time for us to go our separate ways.”

He grabs your wrist to prevent you from moving back, his gaze fierce as he stands up. You’ve never noticed before but he towers over you now; he really has grown up. “No,” he protests. “You can’t leave. If you do, then I won’t be truly happy. You’ve been a part of my life for 19 years, (Y/N), and you expect me to accept the fact that just because my life is better now then that means I can never see you again?”

“Please,” you plead weakly, lightly tugging at your arm in an attempt to get him to let go. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be-”

“Don’t make it hard at all then,” Jaemin argues, his brow furrowed as he looks down at you. Tears begin to form in his eyes and he wipes them away angrily. Why are you so insistent on leaving him? “Just stay.”

You hear thunder rumbling in the distance, and a quick glance at the window behind Jaemin shows you that it’s still a beautiful day outside. The gods are calling you. “I’m sorry, Jaemin,” you apologize, forcefully separating yourself from him with a watery smile. “I wish there was another way, but there’s nothing I can do.” You draw your wand out from your sleeve and raise it up with a shaky hand to point it at him. “It’s going to be alright,” you reassure him. “You’re not going to remember me anyways.”

His eyes widen and they flicker from your wand back to your face. “(Y/N)...” he trails off breathily. There are tears running down your face but your gaze is hard. Jaemin knows that there’s nothing he can do.

You want to tell him, to say those 3 little words so badly. But you can’t ruin this more than you already have. You weren’t even supposed to tell him that you’re leaving in the first place. “I’m proud of you, Jaemin, and I wish you the best. It was an honor to be by your side all these years, and you will always be my best friend.” 

With a wave of your wand, a mist covers his whole body, and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself standing beside his bed. What was he doing again? Standing invisibile in front of him, you watch him look around in confusion and you can’t help but reach out a hand towards him, letting it hover over his arm. You really will miss him.

The door opens and you both look up to see Jeno standing there, concern in his gaze when he sees his friend’s confused expression. “Jaemin? Are you okay?”

Their eyes meet and Jaemin smiles widely at him, exiting the room and closing the door behind him as he reassures Jeno, “I’m fine, just had a moment of déjà vu.” 

The room around you fades until there’s nothing left but a white mist floating around you. You wipe away the last of your tears as you wonder where you are. Usually you would already be meeting your new assignment by now. A glowing orb drifts down and lands in front of you, its light pulsing as it radiates warmth. “The gods have decided to be merciful,” a voice says, it’s tone soothing and low, and you wonder if it’s coming from the ball of light. “The curse shall end with you. You’ve done well, child, and it is time for you to move on.”

The orb begins to grow brighter and brighter, causing you to shield your eyes. Your ears begin to pop, as if pressure is building, and is that a faint ringing you hear? Black spots begin to dance in front of your vision and you feel yourself becoming lightheaded. What’s happening? What or who even was that? Your heart begins to race from panic and you reach out blindly as your knees give out beneath you. “Move on”? Am I becoming mortal? You open your mouth to call out to Jaemin for help, only a whispered yell leaving your lips when you remember. No… I’m dying. You remember that he’s not there, that he doesn’t even know who you are now. And that, you think, is a fate worse than death. You close your eyes. And then… nothingness.

#ncitynetwork #neowritingsnet #na jaemin x reader #nct x reader #jaemin drabble #na jaemin imagine #nct fic #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop drabble #nct scenario #nct imagine #nct dream scenario #jaemin scenario #nct dream imagine #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagine #na jaemin scenario #nct drabble #nct dream drabble

[riversofmars]

December 1st

December 2nd

December 3rd

December 4th

December 5th

“How did you lot get involved in this?“ Eyebrows asked seizing them up. He couldn’t help but notice the interesting choice of clothes on the blonde, he quite liked the look of that coat.

“We just wanted to help.“ The Doctor replied with a shrug, trying her best to appear unassuming.

“She was running away from something.“ Yaz added in support of her.

“Were you?“ Bowtie looked to his wife for confirmation.

“Yes, well, I may have gotten into a little altercation with an elf.“ River ran her hand through her hair a little embarrassed.

“An elf?“ Rory asked bewildered.

“Yes. I was only asking for help…“ River huffed.

“River, what did you say?“ Amy demanded to know, placing her hands on her hips.

“That I was looking for a white haired scotsman and somehow the elf thought I was looking for Santa and got rather affronted insisting Santa was not Scottish.“ River replied with a shrug, not really seeing the problem. Bill tried her best not to burst out laughing which earned her a stern look from Eyebrows while River carried on: “So I tried to explain that it wasn't Santa I was looking for but that you know each other and maybe, you were catching up, and that I was your wife… well, and that lead to a big misunderstanding about Mrs. Claus, so…“ She flapped her arms. It really hadn't been her fault. 

“River.“ Eyebrows groaned despairing at his wife’s apparent disregard for tact and self-control while Bowtie couldn’t help a little chuckle at his future self being compared to Santa Claus. 

“So you were never in any danger.“ The Doctor piped up, to make sure she could tick that off her list.

“I was only trying to avoid the confrontation and not get in trouble.“ River explained a little amused as they had actually thought her in trouble. 

“Right…“ Amy accepted that, it sounded exactly like something River would do. 

“I think that’s our cue to go, you clearly have a lot of things going on and we’re literally just here for the festive cheer, so…“ The Doctor gave a little wave excusing themselves. “Merry Christmas.“

“Merry Christmas.“ The group chanted and the Doctor gestured for the Fam to get a move on before her past selves changed their minds. She could feel both their sets of eyes on her, probably itching to stop them but not finding a reason to.

“Do you think yellow braces would suit me?“ Bowtie asked Amy who sighed and told him to focus. “Right, anyway… This still doesn’t explain how we all ended up here at the same time. What made you come here?“ Bowtie asked facing River. 

“I know you like to come here around Christmas time, I thought it would be my best chance of getting a hold of you and look at that, two for one.“ River retorted with a smirk. 

As the group carried on discussing the weird coincidence of ending up at the same place in time, the Doctor and the Fam casually walked away, trying not to draw anymore attention to themselves. 

“There must be something else going on… we have to investigate, there is no way all three of us turn up at the same place, at the same time…“ The Doctor mused as they headed for the exit. 

“Why don’t you just tell them who you are? You can all figure it out together.“ Ryan asked looking back to the group. 

“No. No. I don’t think that’s a good idea no.“ The Doctor shook her head.

“Why not?“ Yaz stepped in her way, stopping her. She could sense there was a lot more to it. 

“Because…“ The Doctor flapped her arms in annoyance. “It’s just gonna get complicated.“

“Well, they seem to be doing fine, catching up…“ Graham pointed out, glancing over, there seemed to be a lot of hugging going on now.

“They’ll forget anyway, that’s what happens when timelines cross, memory gets blurry.“ The Doctor huffed, refusing to look back. 

“Then what’s the harm?“ Yaz didn’t understand her hesitation. If all the Doctors were going to forget about this anyway, what was the problem?

“I just… I just don’t want to, okay?“ The Doctor almost snapped. 

“What happened?“ Graham asked, coming to stand next to Yaz in front of the Doctor now and so did Ryan. They wouldn’t let her pass without an explanation.  

“I’m… I’m so much older than they are, so much… happened, since then. How do I… Amy and Rory, and Bill… River… how do I…“ The Doctor couldn’t articulate herself properly, she couldn’t even meet their eyes. She focused on a spot on the floor in front of her, hoping they wouldn’t see the depth of her pain in her eyes. “They’re all dead, they’re all going to die, I…“

“But they’re not now, are they.“ Ryan couldn’t help but point out. “Wouldn’t it be nice to at least talk to them?“ 

The Doctor looked around, back to the group. Eyebrows was smiling fondly at Amy and Rory, keeping his emotions at bay. He was enjoying this gifted moment, after he had thought he would never see them again, not giving it away to his younger self or them what was going to happen. 

“I don’t think I can…“ The Doctor looked away and shook her head to herself. “Also, there is something else going on here, that we need to figure out.“ She straightened herself up, gathering herself. “Like I always say, never…“

“Never ignore coincidence.“ Bowtie’s voice carried over to them. 

“Unless you’re busy, in that case, always ignore coincidence.“ Eyebrows added. “And I think the more pressing question is how you are here.“ He pointed to his wife. 

“Why wouldn’t she be?“ Amy asked looking at the two Doctors who exchanged concerned glances. 

“Yes, how are you here?“ The Doctor mumbled more to herself than anything else. How had River cheated death? It wasn’t like either of the Doctors over there would be able to answer that question as she couldn’t herself, it was something that had yet to happen, even for her. The Doctor couldn’t overthink it now. It would happen when it was meant to. She allowed herself one moment of heartfelt joy for knowing it would, eventually. River would live and she would come here. And maybe, once she had figured out what was going on with this place, she would allow herself that heartfelt reunion that ever cell of her body craved. But right now, there was an overshadowing feeling of dread and uneasiness. She would see it in the faces of her former selves as well. Something was going on. “Let’s go and investigate.“ 

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, glass breaking.

“Donna!“ Yet another Scottish voice exclaimed in shock.

“What?! I jumped okay? Which is a perfectly normal reaction when you see a ghost!“ A shrill female voice called back. 

The commotion made everyone jump, River turned to find herself face to face with Donna and the Doctor she had met at the Library so long ago. They looked at her as if they were seeing a ghost.

#advent calendar #Doctor Who #river x thirteen #river x the doctor #river x eleven #river x twelve #river x ten #river song #thriteen #thirteenth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #fanfiction #christmas #christmas special #femslash #bill pots #amy pond #donna noble

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 18 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 17 here. Part 19 here.

Summary: You're concussed. You didn't really think anyone would care.

Words: 4100

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hello! I did the thing again where I was like, oh, this chapter is not gonna have ANY smut in it. And then I wrote it and, y'know, Kylo Ren just... does things to me, y'all.

Does this count as fluff? It can get fluffier, I know, but like. For the universe, and all that.

Thank you so much for your feedback and encouragement! I love y'all so very much! See you soon. <3

The Audi screeched as it rolled into Kylo Ren’s driveway. The rim was almost certainly scrap by now, the way he’d ripped through the roads. You’d spent the entire ride coiled to the door frame--despite the reality of your destination, it was a relief for the car to finally cease moving. He engaged the emergency brake, turned the keys.

“Out.” 

Ren exited the vehicle, and you followed, stumbling onto the concrete. You still felt dizzy from colliding with the dashboard. As you thought it, a brief reverie--the car, the light, Poe’s head--pop--your vision fizzed, and you crumpled against the car, temples pounding. Pain split your skull, and you groaned, kneading your forehead, trying to ease the shrieking in your ears. For the four-hundredth time since you’d left the Resistance house, you were nauseous.

Except this time, you vomited, heaving nothing but stomach acid onto the window of Ren’s car. 

“Hm.” His presence was murky, like mud in your mind. “You hit your head in the crash.”

You wanted to respond, but couldn’t, mouth somehow made of marbles. Instead, you tried to move, but fumbled--mid-fall, you flailed and grabbed the side mirror for stability. Despite this, your limbs were like rubber, bowing, sending you straight toward the ground. A large, strong hand hooked under your arm, hoisting you to your feet, where you wobbled, unsteady.

“You have a concussion.” He guided you forward, and you retched, trying to push him off. “Come inside.”

“Just… hold on a second.” You weren’t ready to move so fast. The world felt like it was underwater. 

Ren urged you along another step, and you winced, collapsing into him and rolling toward the ground again. In one swift movement, he slipped one arm behind your knees, the other supporting your shoulders. Your head spun--you were in far too much pain to acknowledge the gesture, sight still too blurry to even fully comprehend what was happening. His face, to your muddled memory, was stoic--if there had been emotion behind his decision to carry you, it didn’t show. He regarded you with all of the affection that one might regard a paper bag.

Clutching you to his chest, he opened the doors to his home, his heels loud clacks on the hardwood floor. The halls remained dark as he passed through, a fact you were entirely okay with, as you were certain the introduction of any light would slice your head open with its edge. You allowed your eyes to close, your body rocking with his movement, mind attempting to map your location in the house under the strain. One hard step, another--he’d begun to ascend the stairs, but your map must have been in error. They were the stairs to his bedroom hallway, not yours. 

“Sir, is that you?” Johana’s voice, sharp with worry, pierced your ears. The noise of footsteps. “Where have you--oh.” 

There was a pause. Ren stopped. You dangled in his arms. 

“What are…” She paused, and then tried again, softer. “What’s going on?”

“I’m retrieving my property.”

A creak of hardwood. “You… Why is she… You’re bringing her upstairs, Sir?”

Silent, he started to climb again, the movement making you groan. 

“Wait, please--”

“Move.”

“Can you just explain what--”

“No,” he replied. “Move.”

There was a lull of silence--you had a desire to peep open a lid, glimpse Johana’s face, construct a visual memory of the tension weighing between them. Even through the air, you could feel the anxiety whipping like a corona off her skin, could sense her restraint, a straitjacket shackling her to obsequiousness. 

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Sir,” she said. “The Eyes could have her slated for re-education.”

“There’s been no order for that.” 

“No order?” she whispered. “Did you… Did you abandon your duty to go after a Handmaid?” 

“That’s irrelevant.” He went to step again, and stalled in response to a wooden creak.

“We should at least dress her in--”

“Johana.” His voice was a cleaver. “Move.”

 “You can’t bring her into our bedroom,” she spat, trembling tone hiding a plea. “I don’t care about the Eyes, or if you left, or any of that. Just. Please. Not. Where we sleep.”

Silence again--and then: “She has a concussion.”

A long, slow breath. A sigh. “Fine.”

Finally, you heard a shift, and he pushed past the last few steps and through the hall. Johana, with feather feet, followed. Ren shouldered open a door--to his bedroom, you gathered--the low glow in the room like a blinding flash to your hidden eyes. You grumbled again, squirming in his grip, and after a short walk, he laid you on the bed. The moment your head connected with the pillow, you seethed, rolling over, shielding your face from intruding light.

“How do you know she had a concussion?” 

Ren was crossing, unhooking something. You heard a clatter across the room.

“Why do you have your gun--”

“She was in a car accident,” he said. “She can’t stand.”

“Sir,” Johana sighed, “are you going to at least tell me what happened so I know what to say if the Eyes--”

“It’s none of your concern.” He bit the words off between his teeth. “I will take care of it.”

She grumbled--you felt fingers at your shoulder, rolling you to your back. You whined, burying your head in your hands, but Johana wrenched them down with experienced grace, tacking them to your sides. At the sight of your face, she gasped.

“Is that blood?” When Ren was silent, she said again, “Is that blood on her face?” She released you, and you peeled your lids open, squinting even from the dim yellow ambiance. Johana had spun on Ren, who stood, a gargoyle of indifference. “What the hell did you do?”

“Quiet.” 

“I swear to Christ, if she is pregnant--”

“Enough.”

“--and if you ruined my chances of being a mother, Kylo, I--”

“Johana,” he hissed. “Remember your place.”

She stalled, stepping back, her blue nightgown a plume around her legs. “Yes, sir, Commander.” Scowling, she stomped back over to you, meeting your eyes with a flash of rage. “Sit up.”

Nodding, you pushed up on your palms, wincing as your head throbbed. Nausea washed over you again. The bed swirled under your frame--you sucked in a deep breath through your nostrils, quelling the tsunami of vomit that wanted to burble up and spew all over your Commander’s Wife. Thankfully, once your back was against the pillow, you were able to fully open your lids. Johana’s thumb was on your wrist, checking your pulse, face screwed in concentration. In the corner of the room, Ren was seated, shoulders flared like the wings of a raptor, a gaze just as keen.

Glancing at your eyes, she turned to the nightstand, rummaging through it. “Where’s the flashlight?” she asked. And, after a moment, “Nevermind. Found it.”

She clicked it on, two fingers prying open your lids as she shined the flash directly into your pupils. You whinged, seething, trying to shove her off, but she snatched your wrists and strapped them down with her strength, flicking the light back and forth from your eyes, scrutinizing your response. After a moment, the pain simmered, washed away. 

“Her pupils are normal.” Johana turned the flashlight off, returning it to the nightstand before staring back at you. “What nation do we live in?”

“The… Republic of Gilead?” you replied, raising a brow.

“And what year is it?”

“Nineteen… eighty-five…”

“What role do you serve in this home?” Her tone grew more severe.

You blinked, scanning her, wanting to inch away. “I’m… I’m a Handmaid.”

“And what is your name?”

A shiver crawled up your spine as you remembered the rasp of Kylo Ren’s voice in your ear, the tears at your neck, the weight of his body and the thick stretch of his cock, slamming into you, demanding your submission. Your gaze flickered to his. The depth of it--like a pit that threatened to swallow you--gnawed at your stomach.

“Ofkylo,” you murmured, and met her eyes again.

Johana studied you, a slow breath escaping her, before she turned to Ren, voice flat. “She’s oriented. No dilation.” A slight shrug as she glanced at you from over her shoulder. “She should be fine.” 

Ren shifted, head tilting. “She could still vomit in her sleep. She couldn’t walk.”

She sighed again. “What are you asking me, Sir?”

“She shouldn’t fall asleep.”

Johana threw her hands up, crossing to her dresser. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, she’s fine,” she mumbled. “I was a nurse, not a doctor.”

The admission made your stomach flip. A nurse.

Ren stood, long strides bringing him to the side of the bed. Warmth and terror eked through you in equal measure, body tingling for his touch, brain shriveling at the thought of it. His eyes lingered on your figure, appraising it, before traveling to meet your own. Within his irises, there was a fog--a nameless, formless ache, suffocating in the depth of his denial. You could see it, feel it as it coasted across your skin, scattering like shadow as he stared--and you hated it, hated the flutter it brought to your heart, hated the fire it stoked in your veins. It was that asinine desire to know, even as you had already decided that your knowledge of him was complete. 

In secret, a single finger drew a soft line down your calf, and you shuddered. “She will stay here tonight.”

Balking, Johana whirled to face her husband. “What--” She cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me, Sir?”

It was a surprise to you, too--you stared at him, brow furrowed, but his expression was inscrutable, like he’d put on a mask.

“She could choke. Fall into a coma. She requires observation.”

“I’ve already told you that I think she’s fine.”

You nodded, sitting up. Anything to get you out of pissing off Johana. “I actually feel totally fine--”

Ren held up a finger, silencing you, his attention still on his Wife. “You don’t know that to be true.”

Her jaw stiffened. She crossed her arms. “You’re not putting out your Wife so you can watch over a Handmaid,” she said. “That’s… the impropriety--”

“At what point did I order you to leave?” 

She blinked, jaw dropping. A choked laugh broke from her throat, her head shaking. “You… You expect me to share our bed with a Handmaid?” she asked. “Have you--I mean…” She drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir.”

You nodded, swinging your feet toward the floor, ignoring the rush of pain when you moved. “You know, I don’t really want to stay here, either--”

Ren caught your legs as you tried to kick them off the bed, suspending them in air. “No.” He tossed you back as if you were made of cotton, looked to Johana. “You may sleep here or in any of the other bedrooms in this home. It’s immaterial to me.”

Johana stood, staring, her mouth parted, hand falling over her heart. You could almost see it--the silent disintegration of her reality, like a building crumbling in on its own framework, shattered pieces pulverized into rings of dust. Her eyes glossed, cheeks reddened, and she cleared her throat again, swallowing. A sickened smile flashed over her face; she blinked it away.

“If that’s how you feel, Sir, then please, feel free to share our bed with your little whore. You know where to find me, if you need me.” She threw open the closet, grabbing a robe and tugging it on. “But I know you won’t.” With a flourish, she left, slamming the door behind her.

Guilt sank like venom into your bones, twisted your intestines. You glared at Ren. “You’re cruel.”

He cocked a brow, unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirt. “She should be concerned with your survival, given the possibility of pregnancy.” He glanced at your face and paused. After a moment, he turned, heading into the bathroom.

“She loves you, you know,” you called after him. 

No response. You sighed, sinking onto the bed, head plopping back onto the pillow, gazing into the gauzy lavender canopy, tracing its network of soft wrinkles with your eyes. It was true that your head felt like a cantaloupe that someone had smashed with a mallet, and it was also true that the thought of walking currently made bile bubble in your esophagus--but despite all of this, the thought of staying in Kylo Ren’s room with him all night made your chest tight. 

The memory of Poe’s head bursting with cherry blood was a circular film in your mind, reeling on repeat, as if someone was rewinding the tape and pressing play over and over and over. The fact that Ren had murdered him without a breath brought a chill to your toes, to your stomach. The fact that even after that, you’d begged in unfortunate honesty for his cock froze you entirely. Poe’s new adage--There are no saints in Gilead--did little to assuage your shame. Just because sainthood was unachievable didn’t mean you were supposed to drown in sin. 

Who could be considered more reprehensible--the devil? Or the one who had witnessed him shed his humanity, spring forward as a full-formed monstrosity--and still chose to kneel at his feet? At least one was by nature. You weren’t sure what your problem was.

Ren entered the room again, a white towel draped over his hand. You eyed him with suspicion as he approached--Was this all a plan to kill you?--but before you could sputter a protest, he sat at the side of the bed and wedged his hand under your head, cradling it with ease. 

Silent, he guided the warm, damp cloth over your face, tracing it across your forehead, gentle along your hairline. You felt the crust of blood and sweat on your skin drifting clean, the heat of the towel soothing the thumping of your temples. Air failed to enter your lungs, a tremor of something only identifiable as affection tunnelling through you. In his gaze, you saw no evidence of the man who had pinned you to the pavement, pistol to your chin--he was open, a wound without a bandage. 

“I don’t understand why you killed him,” you said, the words leaving before you’d had a chance to think them.

Ren blinked, soft, dark lashes shielding his eyes. “I don’t understand why you left.” The towel caressed your jaw, his long fingers tilting your head as if you were made of porcelain. 

You snuffed a laugh. “Are you… serious?”

For the first time in minutes, he leveled you with his stare. “Yes.”

“How… do you not understand?” you said. “This is hell. You’ve created hell for me.” You bit your lip, choosing your words carefully. “You’ve created hell for all of us.”

He considered you, motionless. “You’re not happy here.”

Snorting, you wondered how many times you’d have to say it for him to actually listen. “Commander--are you?”

Ren paused, holding the towel to your cheek, his gaze fixated on yours. Those full, pink lips twitched with something nameless, the mellow lights casting a mahogany shimmer over the dark waves of his hair. You laid there, locked with him, trading a feeling too dangerous to articulate in the absence of your breathing. Heat dripped into your face--too much heat for the towel to be responsible. He focused on your mouth, rubbed it clean, and offered another blink, almost meandering in its speed.

“Smuggling a Handmaid is punishable by death,” he said. “For Guardians, public execution.” He scrubbed at your chin, swooping along the perimeter of your face.

You grimaced. “So you killed him out of the kindness of your heart?”

“No.” The towel glided under your eyes. “I killed him because he took you.” He dabbed at your neck, your pulse a drum underneath his fingertips. “But his death was inevitable--by me or otherwise.” Leaning back, he examined you, seeking out any other stains. Apparently satisfied, he lowered your head to the mattress and stood, returning to the bathroom.

You sighed, embers crackling in the ash of your flesh. You’d asked to understand--and now you had. For some reason, it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. In fact, it only made you feel worse as you imagined Finn and Rey finding out the mission had gone haywire, that Poe had met his inevitability. All because of you. All your fault. More tears welled, and you shook them away. You were tired of crying. 

After a moment, Ren exited the bathroom carrying clothing. His shirt was untucked, a pair of black drawstring trousers hanging at his waist. Your eyes stuck to him like flypaper, gawking while he crossed the room, his fingers popping open his shirt buttons, revealing inch by inch his thick, powerful torso. A wad of saliva lodged in your throat, breath stuck behind it. He tossed his clothes in a wicker basket, shucking his shirt into it, muscles in his back rippling as he rolled his shoulders. You devoured him, a wolf starved for his vulnerability. 

He turned, approaching you in silence--it was impossible not to notice every movement of his body, how it tensed with his footsteps, how the veins in his hands rooted in his arms, how the breadth of his chest appeared so, so deliciously solid. The light almost disguised the white scars spread across his skin, phantoms of the revolution still haunting his flesh. A wave of fire crashed over you at the realization. He was dangerous--a weapon of a man. And he had just tenderly cleaned your face.

You finally remembered to breathe and swallow when he hovered over you. Was he going to try and fuck you in the throes of a concussion?

“Uh, excuse me, sir.” You tried in vain to tear yourself from his beauty.

“Sit up.” 

Despite his order, his hands were at your back and shoulder, pulling you forward. Ren turned you, sliding in behind you, his legs framing yours, your back flush to his chest. He curled an arm around your waist, tugging you tight to his body, his heat enveloping you. In silence, he gathered your hair, folded it over your shoulder, smoothing the strays over your scalp. Having finished that, he lifted the Bible from his nightstand and flipped it open, his head nestling next to yours as he began to read. You fought for breath, mind whirling from either the concussion or from stupor. How was this the same man who, only hours ago, had his gun shoved in your cunt?

You wanted to feel disgust, horror--you were his possession, after all. But his touch was too gentle to signify ownership. It was the touch of a human, a touch you’d only known men to give to women they cherished--a touch you hadn’t known in years.

“What… are you doing, Commander?” It was the only question that could crawl its way out. 

“Observing you.” Velvet rolled from his mouth to your ear. “Until you can walk, it’s not safe for you to sleep.”

“But Johana…”

“Johana would risk your safety to spite me,” he said. “I want you alive.”

You almost laughed. “Is that why you shot into the car that you knew I was in?”

A pause, and his chest fell in a sigh. “You were never my target.” 

“You could’ve missed, Commander.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “And I don’t.” The darkness in his tone sent ice through your spine. Another pause. “Use my name.”

You blushed, choking on your own spit. “I’m sorry?”

“When we’re alone,” he murmured. “Use my name.”

The motive of his observation clarified in your mind. Ren had wanted Johana, and you, and his own self to believe his intentions were practical. So far, he’d managed to fool only himself--and maybe not even then. He dipped his face to the slope of your neck, drawing in a long, deep breath through his nostrils. Goosebumps swelled across you--in an automatic reaction, you melted against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Kylo…”

“Yes, little bird?” he whispered over your skin.

You sighed. “I hate you…”

He nuzzled his nose along your pulse. “You hate me?” he asked. “You are me.”

“What?” You frowned.

“You want to resist…” A hand rested on your hip, bunching fabric as it curled to a fist. “There’s something here that makes us both betray what we believe in.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, “because what I believe is right, and what you believe is wrong.”

“Inconsequential.” His lips skated your heartbeat, and you caught a sigh in your chest. “When we both believe we’re right.”

You squirmed, feeling his growing desire at your backside. A pang of lust knocked between your legs, and you gripped his thighs, feeling them harden under your palms. “I know I’m right.”

“Of course.” He tossed the Bible to the side, mouth pressing soft, lingering kisses to your exposed throat. “And I know you’re getting wet for me, right now.”

A shudder rattled you, and you chewed a whine before it escaped. “Kylo…”

Kylo Ren growled, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and slipping his hand into the open flap. You whimpered, your head throbbing with the surge of delight hitting your nerves--he shushed you, his thick fingers gliding across your mound. 

“I want to make you cum again,” he purred, kissing your jaw. “I want to hear you say my name as you clench around my fingers.”

Longing roared inside of you, searing your insides. “My head hurts,” you replied, even while your cunt pulsed with need.

“I’ll be gentle, little bird.” His other hand threaded through your hair, nudging your face toward his, and he captured your lips in a hot, tender kiss. “Now be good for me.”

Ren slid a digit across your already stiff clit, his chest rolling with excited breath as he teased it with a quick swirl. You gasped, legs spreading wider, your nails biting his thighs, and he huffed, tracing quick, tight circles around it, the pad of his finger supplying shocks of friction. Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it--Ren kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster. Two more fingers coated themselves in your slick and pushed inside you.

You moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. His hand continued to cup your head as he kissed you, as if to meld you with his frame, as if to brand you in his memory, and his fingers pumped into you, one digit flicking and circling your clit. Air was passed in hot gusts between your nostrils, your bodies grinding together in a futile attempt to fuse. He was deft--your climax approaching fast, his hands pulling it from you faster than they had your dignity.

“That’s it, little bird,” he groaned against you. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Nodding, you fussed, trying to meet his lips again, missing the heavy comfort of his kiss. Your walls clenched his fingers, the beat of bliss thrumming to your head, every new thump of your heart cracking your skull. A sob of pain was silenced by another peak of pleasure over your flesh, your pussy squeezing him faster, yanked to the edge by the stretch of his digits plunging into you, his finger battering your nub.

“Let me hear you.”

“Kylo,” you breathed, gripping his thighs as if they’d anchor you to sanity, “oh, fuck, Kylo…”

“That’s right,” he muttered, “that’s right…”

You splintered, ecstasy burning through you, and as you came, Ren’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing your desperate wails of pleasure, his body solid while your limbs twitched. He was a rock, a sanctuary where you could come undone, finger rubbing until you squealed with discomfort, continuing to kiss you, softer, gentler, until the last tatters of your climax dissipated from your skin.

Wilting into him, your lids fluttered shut, lungs heaving while your heart searched for its rhythm. Ren kissed you again, then pulled his hand from your cunt and popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a quiet moan. Once finished, he zipped up your jeans, re-buttoned them, and propped you up, positioning you flat along his chest once more. His length still throbbed at your back--but if he noticed, he said nothing. 

You sighed, ignoring the echo of pain at the perimeter of your skull, waiting for the oxytocin to leave your blood. “I hate you, Kylo.”

He stroked your hair, flipping it over your shoulder for the second time. “I know.” He returned to his Bible, thumbing it open to 1 Corinthians, and you spied a verse circled in pretty black ink.

Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body. 

The rest of the night, he was silent, nudging you only when you would drift toward sleep, vigilant until the sun crested into the sky.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #just a quick little fingerbang yknow

[pinesprings]

Aetea: Chapter 1

(Just give me a reason, why is it so hard to find one)

Chapter Two

Summary: All hell breaks loose when JJ returns 'home' for the first time after John B's disappearance.. Luckily for him, Kiara would have never let him go in the mouth of the wolf alone

Notes: This had been chilling in my WIPs for some time now, figured I'd post for @jiaraweek . I only hope I'm not too late😅. Second chapter is almost done and on the way! (let me know if you'd like to be tagged)

Warnings: child abuse, blood and violence, head injury, injuries, panic attacks I guess. In one word, angst.

Reading time: 14 mins (1.7k words)

Or read here on ao3

***

Have you ever felt being buried alive in your brain? Your thoughts working tirelessly with your fear as a shovel, desperate to finish piling dirt over your bare body, drowning you with the mud of your deepest worries proving true.

In case you don't know how it feels to want to scream but no sound coming out, because your throat is clogged with the handfuls of panic and your trachea is crushed by the sheer brutality of your cries, you don't know how Kie felt in that moment. The undercurrent of anguish flowed through her veins instead of blood and she couldn't bring herself to hold back the muddy tears.

"Stop!! You're gonna kill him!!"

JJ landed hard on the corner of the small accent table with a sickening thud, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs, but as the father lunged forward to deliver another blow at the son, Kiara's heart ripping protest went to waste.

He laid where he fell, his body a mere mess of exerted limbs, when several cruel kicks shoved that mess to the side, coming down with brutal force, crushing his ribs, as they had done only so many times before.

Kiara averted her blurry gaze from the scene, hot tears streaming down her face as she broke into uncontrollable sobs.

"You piece of shit! You so naive, thinking I wouldn't find out? Yer even more useless than I thought you were! Ya hear me?!"

And he heard, the words just another dart aiming straight at his heart, only intensifying his physical pain. JJ glanced at Kiara, something akin to guilt dimming the light in his eyes and she shuddered, because it shouldn't have been there.

Before the boy could feel more guilty for the anguished expression on her face, the beast yanked his barely conscious son from the collar of his shirt and lifted him inches above the ground. He stared directly into his blue eyes, one bruised and swollen from the punches. Although, he shouldn't be called a beast, she was being too kind, too easy on him,, Kiara thought while her tears of despair mixed with her repulse for the... the monster.

The father's face contorted in a horrific display of his madness, shaking the boy who was desperately gasping for air. The strangled noise that escaped his torn lips broke Kie's heart and twisted her insides, making her cringe in pain.

She shouted at the monster to let go of JJ so loud that the words grazed her throat, or maybe she thought so because of the lump that had formed there since they first set foot in this house of nightmares.

"Stop.."

The monster did not stop.

"Please!"

The monster didn't hesitate, didn't hold the clenched fists back.

"You're supposed to love him!" she yelled, still crying, still trying to find a way to make him stop, to take his focus off the blonde boy. Oh, that blonde boy, so full of life and love, now surrendered before the injustice of the world. Another dagger was hurled towards her heart, from all the slashes oozing pain and tears.

She gathered all her courage and prayed it was enough to help her drop the bomb:

"No wonder why your wife left you!"

She made sure to highlight every word to provoke him, she was going to draw him like a magnet, away from JJ, because she decided she couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't bear his pain. She was being too bold, but, frankly, she didn't care. She was going to take his pain, even if that meant she had to make it hers.

Luke Maybank stopped, though he was still grasping JJ in a chokehold. His movement paused however and he responded without clenching a muscle, without turning to look at her. He stayed so awfully still and somehow that made it all so much worse.

"What did you just say?"

The monster dropped his son to fall back on the ground in a heartbeat and whirled around with a jolt. He started marching menacingly towards Kiara, her tiny frame looking like a little toy compared to his bulky build.

Kiara gulped as she backed away, but eventually her back thudded against the concrete wall and the closest possible exit was awfully far out of her reach. The monster's fist slammed the wall just above her shoulder, the force of impact causing the cheap plaster to peel away and turn into nothing more but a stain on Kiara's luscious locks and litter the ground. She yelped in surprise and terror, recoiling into a small bundle of tanned skin and raising her arms protectively around her head.

JJ laid hopelessly on the ground, coughing furiously and spitting blood, leaning on his elbow as to not choke. However when Kiara's yell so much as reached his ears, his every cell shifted towards the horrific sound.

As he watched his father looming over her and daring to threaten her, at the prospect of him laying his filthy hands on Kie- on his Kie, something finally clicked inside of him.

There was only one piece of the puzzle left and it was a perfect fit. The words, the bruises, the feelings, the pain- all composing a perfect symphony, a complex mosaic that finally spelled it out for him, loud and clear.

It was all fucking wrong.

He had known before too, but now, he knew.

Infuriated beyond reason, he wasn't bound to give up. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, summoned by all the years of mutual hell carved into his brain with the claws of injustice.

"Hey, old man!"

He took a moment to recollect the broken pieces of his self as he struggled to get back on his feet before continuing.

"Tired already?" he snarled, his mouth was dripping poison, his senses only slightly swimming. His irises contracted with hate because no matter how much it hurt to , he despised the man his father was, loathed him with a every bruise and every cut- with every fiber of his being. Years and years of despair and sorrow concealed by his disconsolate need to justify the cruelty, to be guilty of something, to find reason in the lack of affection in his father's eyes.

No matter how hard he wished, he could never find a reason.

Because there was fucking none.

The monster smirked with amusement at the comment, a gesture that only made Kiara fee morel sick. He arched an eyebrow in fake astonishment as he hissed a reply.

"You up for more, chum?"

Before he could finish poisoning the air with his alcohol scented words he was tackled over the table by his son, the sudden and violent motion earning a sharp shout of pain from them both. Soon they were brawling across the narrow room, knocking furniture aside and crashing the more fragile objects with swift, unfocused movements.

"Kiara!", the blonde yelled, and it was almost a plea, "Get the hell out of here, now!"

JJ's fist found his father's face in a glorious moment, and the monster briefly stumbled backwards before finding his balance and jabbing an elbow to his son's sides, making him groan involuntarily.

"I- I'm not leaving you!" Kie stuttered and stating her defiance to get to safety only earned her a pained glance from JJ. It was a simple look and though it lasted for half a second, Kiara could easily interpret the meaning behind it. Carefully concealed in his silence but there, was an defeated why. Why bother. It made the fire in the veins of her neck flare up and one more blade to penetrate her skin. It made the unshed stars of glistening tears sting and burn with renewed passion.

Was he really even questioning it? Was he that oblivious?

"Because I love you."

It was less than a whisper, perhaps simply a breath of wind softly hummed between cerulean waves.

Softer than the mellow aftertaste of a tangerine and coral painted sky, dispersing into a star studded darkness of the night. The bittersweet smile of an end and a beginning. Still, JJ caught it and clung to the words, unblinking, and beautiful like a god sculpted out of aegean marble. Mouth agape, scrambling to grasp the meaning, to wrap his head around the endless possibilities behind a door previously locked being slammed open before his eyes, so suddenly and widely it feels like a fever dream. Kiara's breath hitched, either aghast at her own revelation, either in the aftermath of her subsiding weeping.

Half a second had passed, and still it was enough for the monster to regain his strength. He darted forward and pushed with all his might, and suddenly JJ was sent tumbling to the ground. Kiara jolted at his fall, her breathing growing ragged and shallow, her chest heaving desperately in search of air, to no avail.

With every punch Kiara was spiraling further down, further away, until she couldn't feel, and she couldn't hear, and she couldn't see through the wet and cloudy barricades oozing from her hollow eyes.

There's a scream, muffled and desperate. And there's blood accompanying the sharp crunch of bone. There's blood on knuckles and there's blood on face. There's blood on her vision, dragging her back to reality, anchoring her mind to the pain and her feet to the wooden planks a little too dirty to belong to an inhabited home.

But as Kiara stood rooted to the ground, her legs slowly being deprived of feeling as her whole body was shaking in loud sobs of despair, she felt something entirely different. Right there, in the pit of her stomach, was brewing something other than the sickness and nausea that overwhelmed her.

It was gaining ground. Winning.

Anger.

Rage that fueled up her courage, the intoxicating need to express itself started pulling her invisible strings.

In the haze of her madness she grabbed the very first thing she was able to reach with nervous and tense, although concentrated movements.

JJ's weak groans hadn't subsided until he drifted out of consciousness. The monster kept on hitting his son mercilessly. Devoured by his unquenchable desire for pain the monster didn't notice how that 'pathetic little bitch' that had come along with his disappointment of a son, towered over his unprotected back.

Steel determination adorned her still watery eyes. Only a shrieking cry reached the monster's ears, and even thay was hollowed out by his blood lust.

He turned around just in time to feel the cold glass shatter, and sink into his scalp.

#jiara july #jiara #jj maybank #kiara carrera #luke maybank #outer banks #obx netflix #jj obx #obx fic #kie obx #jj outer banks #jj x kiara #kiara outer banks #my fanfiction #my writing #my fic #tw: child abuse #tw swearing #tw panic attack #tw blood #tw violence #tw head injury

[typicalmidnightsoul]

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙʟɪɴᴋ, ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ - Chapter 1

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃𝒶

Mafia/Assassin AU 

After the prince of Merchants dies his wife takes up his mantle and his empire of criminals, yet now the government locked his wife in jail but the princess of merchants is too clever to be held down. Nesta ran away from Velaris after Feyre tried to control her. She made a name for herself that people respect but now she is in trouble and her mother demands Feyre to get her back. Cassian goes but the shit she has gotten herself into will take a long time to sort out. one catch though, she has 96 hours to live.

This is for the anon with the request to post this on tumblr <3 my tumblr’s messing up so I couldn’t post it with your message on top but I love you Anon!!!!! Thank you for the request!! I’m glad you enjoyed my story!!!

“Hey mom.” Feyre pursed her lips at the female in orange in front of here. Adelaide put her handcuffed hands on the table. She signalled to the guard to get out.

“I probably know the answer to this, but why mom did a prison guard just follow your command.”

Adelaide leaned back, “I have most people here on payroll.”

Feyre groaned, “Only because you’re the princess of merchants.”

After their dad died, their mother in desperation took up his mantle, people feared their mother 10 times more then they feared their father.

“Touché. But anyway… Your sister is in danger.”

Feyre sat up, attentive, “Nesta called a couple of days ago and said she was fine.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, “Feyre I am your mother, if you think you can hide the fact that you tried to control Nesta’s life and therefore she ran away from Velaris and is now one of the most dangerous people on the street. Don’t play dumb, Feyre. But whatever I don’t care about that anymore, what matters now is that Nesta is being hunted down by some very bad people, she has come in possession of a substance that is very dangerous.”

“What shall I do?”

“Well, I was going to handle it my way but I know how much that upset you last time…”

Feyre stood up, “The last time you tried to handle things, you killed people…Nesta can handle herself and she won’t like my meddling.”

“You’re gonna risk your sister’s life because you don’t want to upset her?!” She leaned back smirking, “Guess I’ll just have to send my people down there.”

Feyre relented, “Fine, but whichever one of my friends goes, and they’ll tell Nesta that you sent them. And if my friends don’t want to go then I will. But, please, don’t handle this you’re way.”

“Fine. Who are you planning on sending?” Feyre knew that look.

“Ok mother who do you want me to send?”

“Cassian and one of my people.”

Feyre scoffed, “Cassian?! She’ll rip him apart.”

“And he’ll survive. No one else will be able to manage her temper. She’s my daughter, I know her best.”

“Who else are you planning on sending?”

“Jonah. But he’ll join after, on my orders.”

Feyre flinched. Their half-brother whose existence was unknown to her until very recently, he hated Feyre that hate deepened after that issue with Nesta. But he loved Nesta to bits, and Nesta listened to him. Feyre looked up at the mastermind in front of her.

She was going to send Cassian to take the brunt of her anger and Jonah to calm both of them down.

“Fine. I’ll let Cassian know.”

Before she could go her mother stopped her one more time, "Feyre."

"Get your sister back."

----------------

Nesta ran through the depot. She swiped the card given to her by her source to open the door. A card of highest clearance, her mother would have questions.

“Take a left,” Clare spoke into her ear through comms.

“Clare there are billions of trucks in here.”

“The truck you’re looking for is in the far left, serial number is 234 LMX9.”

“Where is everyone else?!”

“You tripped an alarm; they’re knocking out all the guards who saw it. They’re coming now.”

She got out her handgun and shot the trucks locks on the door busting it open as she climbed in an alarm went off.

“Oh shit Nes! One of the guards pressed the alarm before Helion could make the kill.”

“Its fine I’ve got the case. Just tell them all to get their ass down here.”

She heard footsteps; Vassa, Cresseida, Audrey and Helion came down. Their faces had trickles of blood but they were in one piece.

“You’re all idiots. Come on we need to go.”

“Nesta you leave, Hybern is on our tail you need to get out with that.” Audrey said.

“No offence Cuz but I’m not leaving without you. Actually you guys are leaving before me.”

“What why?”

“Because if Beron finds out we just stole from him our shot for going undercover is gone. I’m alone in this now. We regroup later. You guys need to handle the Queens.”

Audrey nodded, “If you don’t get out and I don’t get a call by midnight that you’re safe I’m coming straight back.”

“Fine you witch now gets lost.”

They all piled into the car leaving Nesta. Nesta had one more thing she needed to find. She went back inside, and pocketed the pen drive that she had plugged into the computer in the front cabin.

As she was leaving a blast caused her to smack down against the wall. She groggily got to her feet, reaching for her briefcase.

“Welcome. Dagdan and Brannagh at your service. What do the call you?”

Nesta slid up her black mask, covering her face,

“They call me Athena.”

She turned both guns out of their holster and shooting the 6 people she saw, she got nicked by one of their bullets. She hissed. She wasn’t outnumbered she could take them on. But the risk of the…

They wanted the brief case. She turned her hand and shot the light board making the whole depot dark.

She ran into a small corner to buy herself time.

“Come out, come out where ever you are,” Brannagh’s sweet voice carried itself to her. They were getting close.

She opened the brief case and eyed the green liquid with blue streaks going through it. She could hear them getting closer. Without another doubt she pushed the syringe inside her.

The feeling was earth wrenching, It was horrifying, like she was being remade.

She ran for the exit, leaving the briefcase. Brannagh had seen the brief case and called her brother over.

“She knows what’s good for her. She left it.”

“Wait,” Brannagh ordered, she opened it, “Shit! The bitch took it herself. Call up Hybern and tell him.

Athena took the Cauldron.”

------------

She couldn’t keep on running, she had to call Clare, Audrey, someone who…she fell and the last blurry image she saw was black timberland boots walking to her.

She woke up her head thudding against something.

“You do that again and you’ll give yourself brain damage.”

She looked at the ceiling-no roof of a car. A car she recognised.

“What the fuck are you doing here Cassian?!”

She heard the doors lock; she tried to open them to no use.

”Let me out!!”

He looked at her in the rear view mirror.

”never thought I’d have to use the child lock on you sweetheart.”

”Let. Me. Out.”

”No can do mummy’s orders.”

Her face softened, “my mom sent you.”

He hesitated then nodded. She dragged a hand through her hair.

”i need to go and see someone. Clare or someone-“

Pure rage took over his features and he braked the car so hard that Nesta almost fell. He got out of the car and climbed into the back, pulling Nesta against him.

“As I see it Nesta you have two options, 1) you co-operate and I take you to the safe house or 2) you don’t and I handcuff you to this car till you do?”

She tilted her head, “You’re angry. Why?”

“Because you left. You left and made a name for yourself that will either get you respect or get you killed.”

“You told me to leave. You TOLD me.”

“I did not think you’d actually do it.”

“Well then you should’ve known better.”

They stayed like that for a while, breathing raggedly, until Cassian

Said, “I need you to make a decision, Nesta.”

“Fine I’ll go with you. But you will regret it.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m also sitting in the passenger seat.”

“Do as you please.”

She climbed through the middle of the two seats and into the           passenger seat. He rolled his eyes and went back outside grabbing something from the boot before going back into the driver’s seat. He dropped a Burberry barrel bag into Nesta’s lap saying, “I talked to Clare before coming here. She packed it for you. It has your phone, charger, clothes and god knows what else.”

She sifted through it wondering what she had done to deserve a friend like Clare. She tried her phone, no charge.

She looked at Cassian’s phone that lay in the middle of them.

“Go ahead.” He said reading her thoughts.

She turned it on, “Passcode.”

“260369.” She tried to hide her shock at him giving her his passcode with no hesitation.

She scrolled through his contacts trying to find Audrey. It rang twice.

“Hey Cassian what’s up.”

“Auj! It’s Nesta.”

“Oh my god! Where are you?! Are you with Cassian? What happened?”

“Long story short: It’s safe with me, I’m in a bit of a mess, Cassian was sent by mom to do god knows what.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“I…don’t know.” She looked at Cassian who gestured that he’ll send it to her, “Cassian says he’ll send it to you.”

“Ok, keep safe, love you, and call me when you get there.”

“Yeah ok, Love you too, bye.”

She started taking her holsters off and getting comfortable. Cassian leaned back and got his coat that was covering Nesta when she was sleeping in the back. Nesta looked down her sleeve was ripped. The bullet wound taken care of. He put his coat over her.

“We have another one hours journey ahead of us.”

“I’m not tired.” But she didn’t take his coat off.

“Well then what do you want to do.”

“Depends. Do you have Spotify?”

He chuckled and handed his phone over. She reached down into the barrel bag her earphones and got out two frappe’s she silently put Cassian’s one between them and opened hers plugging her earphones in.

He tried to keep his smile to himself.

-------

Nesta had fallen asleep for the last 15 minutes of the journey, him taking out her earphones for her. He texted Jonah that they were at the safe house to which Jonah gave a four word answer.

Ok. Keep her safe.

The amount of love he had for Nesta and the amount of hate he had for Feyre and Elain were unimaginable. He chuckled.

“Nes.” He shook her, “We’re here. Sweetheart.”

She groaned something about letting her sleep.

He rolled his eyes. He got out of the car and picked her up. She snuggled closer to him. He smiled down softly at her peaceful face.

He took her inside to his room and placed her in between the sheets. He took off the knee high heeled boots she wore and tucked her in.

He took off his shirt and slung it on a chair; he took a shower before heading to go to sleep in the guest room.

Coming up Next

“I have 96 hours to live.”

“What?!”

“Probably why Jonah is getting worried.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“My mother wouldn’t send you if she didn’t have a plan.”

“What were you gonna do?”

“A friend of mine, Thesan, he is a doctor. Well a bit more than that.”

He looked at her and picked up his newspaper. She decided she wanted to ditch her clothes and instead of getting her own she took his shirt and worn her knee high black boots. Apparently she needed to take a shower anyway so instead of dirtying her clothes why not his. He on the other hand was shirtless which seemed to have no effect on her while walking around in his clothes definitely had an effect on him. She studied him.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out what would happen if you’re ex walked in and saw us like this.”

“My-wh-who are you talking about?!”

“Morrigan.”

“She’s not my ex.”

“The one night stand you’re still hung up over then.” She laughed, “You’d try to hide me. Wouldn’t you?”

He grabbed her wrist pulling her closer, “No sweetheart I actually wouldn’t.”

“Well then what would you do.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed for starters.”

“Yeah whatever.” She left to change.

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Tags: @skychild29​ @aesthetics-11​

#nessian fanfic #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre archeron #rhysand #helion #vassa #prythian #acotar #acomaf #acowar