#Just he has so much going for him in this au. Good for him

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

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═══════

I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

═══════

It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family. 

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. 

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost. 

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered, 

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate. 

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin. 

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch. 

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh. 

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. 

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

═══════

Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

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MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it. 

[luvelola]

Heyy girly pop! So I was wondering if you could do a rafe x reader, where reader gets into a fight(after giving a few warnings) cause someone kept disrespecting her. And rage has to pull reader off of the girl but instead of being pissed he’s all proud. And maybe a little smutty at the end???👀 anyways totally love you and your writing🩵💋

hey!!! thank you so much for the compliment and request, i hope this is to your liking. this can also be in honor of me hitting 300 followers, love you guys. also i didn’t know if you wanted this in the military!rafe au but i added it anyways😭

masterlist !

cw: very mild dirty talk, fluff, praise, hurt/comfort. military themes. rafe calls reader “mama” (i still can’t be stopped), explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), mild blood mention (from hand scrape). and rafe is so country in this for some reason idk what i was doing😭

the air in the farmer’s market is thick with the smell of peaches. you’re standing beside a crate of tomatoes with zara on your hip and miles bouncing by rafe’s leg, tugging at the belt loop on his jeans.

everything about the day has been slow and good. a light breeze. baby laughter. rafe with his hand spread warm on the small of your back, grinning like it’s his second job.

he’s been like that since deployment — like he can’t get enough of touching you, having you close. keeps calling you mama in that low voice, even in public, even now as he leans down and kisses your temple.

“think we got everything, baby?” he asks, lifting the basket.

you nod. “eggs, butter, bacon, apples. yeah.”

but just as you shift zara to your other hip, a voice behind you cuts through the easy rhythm of the morning.

“some of us don’t bring the whole damn circus to shop.”

you freeze. for a split second you wonder if you misheard. but rafe’s spine straightens, and his fingers close around miles’s hand just a little tighter.

you turn, slow, your hair brushing your shoulders as you look behind you.

she’s standing there — tight ponytail, cheap sunglasses, brittle-looking mouth twisted in something bitter. the woman from the town over. you’ve seen her before at feed stores and gas stations. always staring. never speaking.

until now.

rafe shifts, but you touch his wrist without looking away from her. “it’s okay,” you murmur, soft, mostly for him.

the woman keeps going.

“all this yelling, kid noise, your dogs in the truck barking their heads off. you really think the rest of us came out here to listen to your family drama?”

your jaw tightens.

zara stirs against you and miles looks up, confused, at the way the energy around him has changed.

you crouch down. “miles, can you go to the truck with daddy and get your juice?”

he hesitates.

“go ahead,” you say, stroking his curls. “i’ll just be a minute.”

rafe starts to speak but you look up at him and there must be something in your eyes that he respects — not fear. not passivity. just calm, sure warning.

“go on,” you say.

he stares at you a beat longer, then exhales through his nose and nods. “you got five minutes. i ain’t lettin’ you get blood on your favorite shoes.”

you straighten and set zara in the crook of the truck bed before stepping back toward the market stand, toward the woman who still hasn’t stopped muttering.

you keep your voice level.

“you got something else to say, you can say it to my face.”

her eyes narrow. “i already said it. y’all act like you own this whole place with your loud-ass kids. nobody cares how many flags you wave when he’s got his tongue down your throat every saturday like a damn teenager.”

you blink once.

then you smile. “you had two chances to walk away,” you say quietly. “and i let you.”

you step forward.

“you don’t talk about my babies. you don’t talk about my man. and you sure as hell don’t open your crusty-ass mouth about what we do.”

the woman scoffs, looks around, maybe expecting someone to step in. but the older couple nearby is already pretending they don’t see it, and rafe is at the truck, arms crossed, watching silently like a lion at a distance.

“you’re just some farm wife with delusions,” the woman sneers.

you let that be the last thing she says.

your knuckles hit her cheekbone hard enough to make her stagger.

it’s one clean swing, just one — but it drops her into a crate of onions and her glasses fly off, clattering to the concrete.

for a moment the air is silent.

then—

“that’s enough, baby.”

rafe’s arms are around you fast. pulling you back gently but firmly, even as your chest heaves. his palm smooths down your side, grounding you.

you’re not yelling. you’re not screaming. just breathing hard, staring down at the woman who tried the wrong one.

“you okay?” rafe says low, brushing your curls off your forehead.

you nod.

he looks down at your hand. your knuckles are red. maybe split.

he kisses them.

“my tough girl,” he murmurs. “my goddamn wife.”

you look up at him. “you mad?”

“mad?” he grins, boyish and proud. “baby, i’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

you laugh, but it’s breathless. you can feel the adrenaline still buzzing under your skin.

“let’s get home,” rafe says. “i got some things i need to thank you for.”

the house is still when you pull up the drive.

biscuit barks once from the back of the truck before jumping out, big paws thumping the dirt. rafe ruffles his ears while shadow stays curled beneath the steps, tail twitching once.

“miles, take zara inside so you guys can wash up before dinner,” rafe says before shutting the door.

the second the door shuts behind you, rafe turns the lock and turns to you.

“let me see your hand again.”

you lift your fingers wordlessly. your knuckles are scraped, a little swollen. rafe brings them to his lips, soft like reverence.

“gotdamn,” he mutters against your skin, “you been holdin’ all that in and didn’t say a word.”

you shrug a little, exhausted from the adrenaline now, the adrenaline and heat and sharpness of what was. you feel it in your legs.

but rafe sees it. he always sees it.

he pulls you in slowly, lets your head rest against his chest.

“you got me, baby,” he says, quiet and sure. “i got you.”

his voice rumbles through his body, pressed to yours. you nod against him.

“was that too much?” you ask, not sure why..

he leans back and cups your face, eyes locked on yours.

“you were everything,” he says. “she should’ve never opened her mouth. and you swung like it was your job to protect what’s yours.”

his thumb slides down your cheek.

“ain’t nothin’ sexier than you lookin’ out for us like that.”

your throat tightens.

he kisses your forehead, then your lips — long and slow — and you can already feel the shift in the air.

because his hands don’t leave you. because his body has been on edge since the second he heard that woman’s voice and even more so after watching you land that punch.

“mama,” he says low, a little out of breath already, “you gotta let me love on you proper now. you don’t know what you do to me when you get like that.”

you nod again. whisper, “i want it, rafe.”

and then he lifts you into his arms, bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom.

he’s not in a rush.

he kisses your hand again first, then each finger, kneeling at the edge of the bed as he lays you back.

he kisses your bare thigh, your knee, up the inside of your leg. eyes watching yours like he needs to see your every breath.

“my girl,” he murmurs. “my strong, soft girl. always protectin’ what’s hers. always makin’ me feel like the luckiest sonofabitch on this whole earth.”

you reach down and thread your fingers into his hair. “come here,” you whisper.

he kisses you again, hot and full and reverent. and when he slides down between your thighs, you already feel the warmth building.

his mouth is like worship. you forget the ache in your knuckles, the voice of that woman, the tightness in your chest. you forget everything.

he eats like it’s his last meal — slow, dirty, perfect. tongue lazy against your clit, one hand under your thigh and the other gripping your hip like he owns it.

you arch, sob a little, and he moans right into you.

“that’s it,” he breathes. “let me hear it. give it to me, baby.”

you do. again and again. until you’re trembling, nails in his shoulders.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are slick and swollen. he kisses the inside of your knee again, then your belly, your throat.

“my turn,” you whisper against his jaw.

you take care of him the same way — gentle hands first, then firmer. he leans back on the headboard, his abs twitching as you slide down slow, mouth around him.

he groans like he’s unraveling.

“god, baby, fuck. always so good. so sweet. so nasty when it’s just us.”

you hum around him and he grips the sheets, other hand tangled in your hair.

“look at you,” he pants. “jesus. suckin’ the soul outta me like i ain’t just watched you knock a woman into a pile of onions. my girl.”

you both laugh but it’s breathless — dizzy.

by the time he flips you back beneath him and slides in, it’s like all the tension of the day bursts.

he moves slow, then faster. he’s half groaning, half praising you through it all.

“my sweet thing,” he breathes into your neck, “so damn tight. fuck, i love bein’ inside you. love the way you hold me like this.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “don’t stop, rafe.”

“never could.”

he pulls your leg over his hip and pushes deeper, harder — just like you beg him to.

it’s headboard-thumping, breath-stealing, soul-deep kind of love.

you come with your fingers digging into his back and his name half-sobbed on your tongue.

he finishes not long after, face buried in your neck, calling you baby, baby, baby, over and over.

when he finally collapses beside you, he’s still panting. pulling you into his arms.

“we don’t ever need to go to that market again,” he says, half laughing.

“nah,” you murmur, still breathless. “we’ll grow our own onions.”

rafe laughs harder, kisses your cheek. “god, i love you.”

“love you more.”

his arms tighten around you.

“mama,” he says, and it’s soft, a little teasing. “i ever piss you off in public, you gonna swing on me too?”

you roll your eyes. “i’d never do that.”

he grins. “but if i did need it…”

you smack his chest lightly.

“okay, okay,” he laughs. “but damn. you got hands, baby. real hands.”

you smile against his skin, warm and wrapped up in the best kind of peace.

the kind only earned after a long day, a soft man, and a kiss that says you’re mine.

a/n: again, i’m sorry that this is so country😭 and if you want a version outside of military!rafe pls let me know!!

©luvelola. do not plagiarize or repost any of my work as your own.

[chanceofwhat]

Based off of this short by @someoddwritings for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face ‘s Safety Alarm AU

(Basically, magic user Ford dies and Stan goes nope and resurrects him.) (read their thing first though it’s really good and makes this read better)

“So,” Ford eventually has to ask, “how did you do it?”

Stan blinks at him from the armchair. It’s late, he’s still tired from the incident, and he was expecting they’d go to bed soon. Instead, now Ford’s talking, and his tone sounds like he’s trying too hard to keep it light.

“Do what?” is the first thing Stan’s brain offers, because how could he possibly know something Ford doesn’t know?

“Don’t be obtuse, Stanley.” Ford rolls his eyes, “How did you resurrect me? Did you memorize a spell beforehand? Did you even use an incantation?”

Oh, this. Of course. Stan shrugs,

“Nah. Actually, I’ve got no idea what happened there. I just sorta… focused. I’m thinkin’ it was probably easier because you do so much magic stuff, so I figure you had a bunch of magic in you already or something.”

Ford furrows his brow,

“That’s not really how that works, Stanley.”

“Well, clearly it is, ‘cause you’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here. Because you brought me back to life.”

Stan makes a dismissive “eh” sound and shrugs again. Ford fully does a double take,

“‘Eh’?! What do you mean ‘eh’?! You resurrected me! It took you less than a minute! I was dead, Stanley—“

Stan winces at the word,

“Can we stop talkin’ about that? I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“No,” Ford feels himself get louder as he grows increasingly agitated, “I need you to understand the magnitude of what you accomplished! You performed a true resurrection in under a minute without—“

“Shut up!”

Ford’s loud confusion quiets as Stan begins to shout,

“I know you were dead, so stop fucking saying it! I saw your head cracked in half, I saw your ribs crushed into little bits, I saw your heart smushed flat, I KNOW. And I’m not lookin’ forward to sleepin’ tonight because I’ve been seein’ it all again every time I close my eyes. I’m probably gonna have nightmares about that forever, and I’ve got no fucking idea how I fixed it!”

Stan slumps further into the plush chair, looking miserable,

“I don’t know how I fixed it, and I don’t know if I could ever do anything like that again. I barely even remember doing it. I just know I saw you and… you couldn’t be dead. It was wrong. I remember thinking it just had to be fixed and you couldn’t exactly do it so I had to fix it and my hands felt funny and I got all dizzy and then you were back, so I was done, and that was that.”

Ford looks at his face exhausted brother sympathetically. He gets it— he still thinks too often about the state he found Stanley in originally, tied up and dying of heatstroke in the trunk of his own car. He remembers the magic he performed to bring his dying brother to him, the surge of energy that his determination brought; that’s something he knows about magic, it feeds on passion and intensity, it works better the more you want it.

Yet, some selfish part of Ford can’t stop thinking about how much work it was for him. The locator spell, the teleportation— both with incantations and specific methods that called upon his expertise— finding his brother within the car, cooling him down, not having enough magic left to bring him into the house with anything but his tired muscles, and that’s not even considering the safety alarm itself—

And Stanley hadn’t even been dead.

It took time after all that for Stanley to recover, and Stanley hadn’t even been dead. Ford died today, and all he has to show for it is a twinge in his back and his legs from how he was awkwardly forced to the ground when the boulder landed on his upper half. When he awoke 36 seconds after his own death, he didn’t even have a headache.

He wants to tell his brother how impressed he is, how incredible such a controlled, intent-based display of magic is. He wants to shout and throw something because how could anyone perform something as complex as a true resurrection without the proper use of spells or incantations, it’s a flippant dismissal, even an offense, to everything he thinks he knows about magic.

Between the incredibly loud, emotionally intense warring sides in Ford’s head, his voice comes out calm and gentle,

“I can prevent nightmares, if that would help.”

Stan looks at him. Ford offers a small, tired smile,

“I know a spell that induces dreamless sleep. I’ve used it on myself before. I can use it on you, if you’d like.”

Stan nods, a small movement.

“That would be nice.”

Ford nods in return.

“Let’s go to bed, then. I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

When they walk down the hall to what Ford expects to be the guest room only to find Ford’s own room, extended a few extra feet with an extra bed in it, Ford can’t bring himself to argue. Especially not with how grateful Stan looks.

He all but tucks Stan in, using what little magic he has available this evening to ensure him a dreamless sleep and help him drift into it. When Stan conks out, he brushes a strand of hair out of the peaceful, sleeping face before putting himself to bed as well.

When he wakes up only an hour later, plagued by images of Stan’s death that he’s not sure he’d be able to heal the same way, he gives himself a dreamless sleep as well.

[happypopcornprincess]

Four Paces Behind You

Pairing : Bodyguard!Joaquin Torres x Princess!Reader AU [vague description of reader being shorter than Joaquin)

A/N: thank you so much for this request anon and I wanted to write only one scene but then I got possessed by a tween on sugar rush and ended up writing some 8k words AND IT JUST KEPT INCREASING LMAOO. So here I am... with a whopping 13.5K words idk I went full ballistic w this :) I kind of imagined the princess to be from a South-Asian kingdom [My only references has been the movies I have seen lol (there is a film called Khoobsurat and a lot of rules and setting is inspired from this movie)], but I have left the descriptions vague so you can imagine the kingdom how you see fit. So here you go, this is my love letter to all the soft romance delulu girls who wants to annoy a man so much that he ends up falling for them, may you all get the book boyfriends you truly deserve <3 listen to Two Hands by Tate McRae for better experience during the scene [mentioned below]

Warnings: DUAL POV. ANGST ANGST ANGST!!!! Reader is a bad girl trying to be good. Inaccurate royal people's rules ig?, mentions of destructive behaviour, self saboutage, attention seeking people, sexist themes, paparazzi being assholes, family arguements, basically reader is a princess trying to follow her dreams, mentions of forced marriage, Inaccurate F1 rules and working? [reader is a racing enthusiast], also Joaquin Torres on a bike doing stunts in Vienna, you're welcome.

Word Count: 13.5K

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆.⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆.

Bodyguard! Joaquin Torres X Princess! Reader

Your sash poked into your neck like a velvet noose.

You blinked rapidly, the fake lashes heavy and clumped from the last-minute extensions someone insisted you needed. The tiara perched atop your head gleamed under the crystal lights, but it didn’t feel elegant. It felt like obligation, pressing down on your scalp with every inch of your heritage. Even your gown, a masterpiece of silver sequins and duchess satin... felt like armor, and the enormous flare of it made you feel less like a royal and more like a wedding cake about to topple over.

Despite the wardrobe struggle, you stood tall... you had to.

But your mind wandered like it always did. You found your focus snagged on the curtains in front of you. Deep burgundy, maybe velvet… or brocade? You weren’t sure. You wanted to run your fingers along them, and you raised your hand to feel the curtains, only for your eyes to fall on your white satin gloved hands, too sterile, too clean, and it irritated you further. the curtains were the only barrier you had between you and the bustling crowd in the halls.

Around you, event planners and makeup artists hustled past, speaking to each other, making sure the event goes smoothly. The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace overflowed with global dignitaries, foreign royalty, press, and every relevant elite worth impressing.

Today was your twenty-fifth birthday, your official introduction as Queen Regent-in-Waiting. A ceremonial declaration that once your brother, Prince Ramil, ascended the throne after your father, you would follow.

Assuming you didn’t implode first.

You fought to breathe in the corset cinched so tight that your ribs ached, but you didn’t dare shift. You had been trained for this, for the perfect postures and the Hollywood smile, since you were a toddler.

“Breathe, Your Highness.”

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was, his voice could be recognized by you in an instant. I was low and smooth, one syllable from him could cut through noise like a hot blade through wax. It always calmed you, steadied you, reminded you that amongst the plastique and fakeness of being a royal in 21st century, someone inside the palace walls was still real.

Joaquin Torres.

Ex Air Force.

Your Bodyguard.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him step closer, four paces behind you; exactly as protocol allowed. His hand reached forward with practiced stealth, brushing your fingers and leaving behind something small and familiar.

You glanced down to find a lemon candy, half-wrapped. You bit down on it immediately, the sharp citrus hitting your tongue like a jolt of electricity. Your lip twitched, and you grimaced.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely moving your mouth, your smile still fixed.

“I heard you skipped lunch,” he replied, voice dry.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be dramatic, Torres. I had a large breakfast.”

“Let me guess. A strawberry Pop-Tart and black coffee.” He scoffed.

“It was two Pop-Tarts,” you hissed, and you could hear the soft huff of amusement he didn’t let anyone else hear.

Behind you, Joaquin stood at his full height. He was wearing his formal black three-piece suit; the same one he wore at all events. He looked handsome in it, better than any prince in extravagant clothing… although you liked him more in a tank top where his toned biceps were in full view. You never told him this, of course, because he would never let you live it down. Because Joaquin Torres could be a terrible flirt and a softie by heart, but he was a pillar of safety for you first… truly unshakable. He was your shadow, your shield, your most trusted friend.

He had been assigned to you at nineteen, back when your name was plastered on tabloids more often than national newsletters. You had been caught by paparazzi way too many times at places any princess shouldn’t be; clubs, celeb parties, bars in foreign countries... but mostly at illegal underground car racing events.

You were wild back then.

The media loved any chance they got to drag the royal family through the dirt, and had nicknamed you “Drift Princess” by the number of times you had been booked for driving your custom hot pink mustang at ungodly speed, so fast that your car was a blur in the paparazzi pictures. You still remembered your first photo that was everywhere in media for a month: your hot pink Mustang streaking through a back-alley track, smoke curling off tires, your grin wide and reckless.

You hadn’t cared at all back then, being the obnoxious spare to the throne, and nobody dared to stop you… until Joaquin had been thrown into your world, with his all-brooding eyes and scolding lectures. You swear you never saw his lips twitch back then, never.

You hated him at first; The way he hovered around you anywhere you went. The way he shadowed you, barked rules your way, blocked exits before you reached them. The way he cared when everyone else was just… tired of you. You fought him with everything; snuck past him, climbed walls, got black out drunk at unknown clubs, disguised yourself in hoodies and sunglasses. He found you every single time... He’d dragged you out of bars, carried you out of parties, intercepted sneaky getaways from the palace walls.

You believed he hated you too… until one night, he’d literally tackled you before you could climb over a 30 feet palace wall, one wrong step away from falling to your death. You’d been cursing him out as he picked you up and hauled you to your quarters looking ready to combust.

“your highness, You could’ve died!” he had shouted at you, practically shaking.

“Then I’d finally be free,” you’d snapped back.

Joaquin had gone still hearing that. His face dropped from angry to sadness, eyes burning with something you couldn't decipher.

“The next time you want to go,” he had yelled, “You tell me.” He pointed at you and then at himself. “I’ll take you. You can race at full speed or drink yourself into a coma with your rich friends, I don’t care. But I need to know where you are! I can’t protect you if I can’t find you!” You’d stared at him for a long time after that.

He’d been furious. You’d never had anyone scream at you like that. Never seen anyone that scared for you… not even your own family. That night, six years ago, had changed everything. He was still your bodyguard, but he had become so much more. Your secret-keeper, your movie nights partner, your only real friend, the only one who knew who you were beneath the crown.

The trumpet blared from the other side of the curtain, and you felt the anticipation of your arrival in your bones.

“It is my utmost honor,” the spokesperson announced, voice echoing around you, “to introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess y/n, first of her name, and third in line to the throne of Tavreshi!”

Your hands clenched, then released, you took a deep breath to prepare yourself as you waited for the cue of the trumpets.

Behind you, Joaquin murmured with a smirk in his voice, “Time to shine, Your Royal Driftiness.”

You bit back a laugh. “Say that again and I’ll trip on purpose.”

He leaned ever so slightly closer. “Not if I catch you first, which I always do.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you didn’t respond.

That night at the fountain...

A heartbeat passed, and then his voice rang in your ears, this time a bit closer, “Show them who you are, princess. Good luck.”

Then the curtain opened.

The hall exploded in light and sound, flashing bulbs, camera shutters, music rising in grandeur. The applause surged like a wave crashing into your ribs as you stepped forward, looking at your family standing at the end of the staircase; Your grandfather – the king. Your parents and your brother, Prince Ramil, all beaming at you in pride and awe.

You smiled as you descended, not the plastic kind that you practiced so often. The real kind, showing your true self. And behind you, half-shielded in shadow, Joaquin followed your steps, four paces behind, hand hovered at his side.

Just in case you fell.

---/---/---

The golden ballroom gleamed with candlelight and polished marble, humming with music and gossip from the high society. You had stood beneath the chandelier, smiling through the weight of too many eyes. You had cut the huge birthday cake, and your father had danced with you first, proud of the woman that you had grown to be. After which your older brother, Prince Ramil followed, cracking a joke mid-waltz that made you want to flick his forehead.

Now, standing alone at the slightly raised podium of the room, the chatter was fading while the music grew louder, you tried not to twist your fingers. After all, this was the first time the event was in your honor.

You were twenty-five now, and officially named second in line to the throne. A future queen, in everything but title.

There were a thousand cameras clicking your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake so they can drag our name in tomorrow's headlines, well, you didn't blame them. They haven't had a bad news about you for five years now. They were hungry to see you fall. Diplomats, nobles, foreign royals watched you with curious eyes, the youngsters in awe of your rebellious nature poised so perfectly, and the elders with their judging stares.

Behind you, four paces behind, stood Joaquin Torres.

He didn’t care about the glittering gowns or the music. His serious eyes scanned the room for the 100th time. Exits, guests, and upper balconies. He was whispering into his comms again, his hand against his earpiece, tense as ever.

You glanced back slightly and muttered under your breath, “Would it kill you to relax a bit?”

Joaquin glared at you, standing straight, “Probably. Likely it would kill you too.”

---/---/---

She laughed at his deadpanned quick remark, pulling him from his scan for just a second. That was the thing about her; she could find sarcasm even in places armored with protocol and pressure.

She turned her head more now, catching his eye over her shoulder. Her smile crooked, she asked, “Dance with me?”

Joaquin blinked at her boldness, sure he had danced with her during lessons, but infront of everyone? He looked straight ahead, avoiding her glance; this wasn’t protocol, his recruiter’s voice rang in his ears, “you have to stay close to her Torres. And the minute you catch feelings, know that you have failed your duty.”

But before he could respond, he watched as a steward approached and gave a polite bow, earning her attention, “Your Highness, may I present His Royal Highness Prince Idris of Meira. He would be honored to have the next dance.”

She turned and accepted with perfect grace, as the tall tan skinned prince whisked her away to the dance floor.

Joaquin stepped back, his jaw tight, hands behind his back as he watched her take the foreign prince’s hand and let herself be led back into the dance.

“I’ve never seen her this graceful,” came a voice beside him. He glanced sideways to see Prince Ramil, y/n’s brother and current heir, standing next to him, drink in hand, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

“She always is,” Joaquin said, neutral.

Ramil followed his sister’s slow turn across the floor. “Idris is a decent man.” He looked at his champagne, grimacing, “he’s quiet, loves to read, also, his small island nation mines diamonds for a living, so, he’s like loaded.” He slurred his words, and Joaquin’s heart raced as he glanced back at her, twirling on the dance floor, laughing.

Ramil went on. “You did not hear this from me but, the king’s planning a pact between them. He hasn’t said it directly, but it’s clear. I heard him talk to dad saying Meira is a good ally nation to have.”

Joaquin’s jaw ticked his gaze locked on how Prince Idris led you around the dance floor, looking into your eyes.

“Prince Ramil, The King has summoned you,” Sam Wilson, Ramil’s Bodyguard and Joaquin’s senior form Air Force, led him to the podium where the king sat, looking back at Joaquin and silently telling him not to spill this to anyone else.

He turned his attention back to the princess. From where he stood, it looked like they were flirting. She tilted her head, her hand resting on Idris’ shoulder longer than necessary. She was playing a part maybe, this was diplomacy and strategy and rebellion rolled into one, but Joaquin wasn’t immune to the slow, bitter burning that was silently creeping into his lungs.

Because he knew what it meant to stand too close to fire and not be allowed to touch it.

Joaquin had hated her at first. She was spoiled, entitled, downright unhinged, and the physical personification of pure chaos. She didn’t care about the rules, or etiquettes, or safety and image.

She was the poster child of what a kid becomes when they don’t hear no for an answer.

But then, he had seen her talk to the stable horses like they were old friends, he saw her take care of her cars and bikes like they were a part of her, always ending up covered in grease and dirt but with a content smile on her face when she finished. He saw her sneak into the servant’s kitchen to share a cup of tea with her maids. He saw her fighting a guy twice her size at a club in Thailand, smiling through bloodied teeth as he carried her out. He saw her cry when she thought no one was watching, in her brother’s arms after her grandmother’s funeral.

Somewhere between dragging her out of a racing pit with engine oil on her hands and staying up to argue with her about how to handle PR disasters… he fell.

He fell hard.

But the brutal truth stayed unchallenged; that knights don’t fall for princesses.

He shifted his weight. Checked his comms again. Sam Wilson, Prince Ramil’s bodyguard, muttered something over the channel about the southern gate being clear. Joaquin gave a curt nod in response, but his eyes never left her.

Their dance ended, and the hall burst into raging applause. They didn’t linger for long, but they kept talking all night. Her and Idris, walking around the room greeting guests together, sitting at the edge of the ballroom sipping drinks, smiling like they had known each other for a while, and maybe they did, after all, they both were royals.

Joaquin followed them, four paces behind, stone-faced. He couldn’t hear them, but he heard her giggle, and Prince Idris holding her closer than friends should. He saw just the flicker of her hand brushing her hair, the way she threw her head back when she laughed, something genuine and rare that only he had witnessed all these years. If anyone looked closely at his stone-faced expression, they’d think he was just another bodyguard doing his duty. But on the inside, the storm in his heart only grew. He was spiraling, seconds away from cracking as he saw Idris hold her by her waist.

The realization hit him like a truck; that one day, she might belong to someone else.

And he would have to watch it unfold, helpless.

---/---/---

It was midnight when the royal family gathered in the smaller private sitting room at the palace; a room reserved for “family conversations.” You had told him enough for him to know nothing good ever came out of that room anytime your grandfather had summoned the family there.

That meant no servants, no helpers… just good old family having a heated argument, with the tension thick enough to choke on.

The King stood by the fireplace, cane in hand, eyes sharp despite his age. Queen Miriam, your mother and King Consort Advit, your father, sat on one of the long couches, pale-faced and clearly exhausted. Prince Ramil leaned against a wall, drink in hand again, expression unusually unreadable.

You stood across from them all, still in your gown. Your heels had been kicked off, and your tiara long gone. Your voice trembled; not with fear, but with fury by what you had just heard the king announce to the room.

“You want me to marry him?” you spat. “After one polite conversation and a single dance, you think we are the best choice to be married?”

The King didn’t look at you, his gaze focused in the kindling in the fireplace, “This isn’t about romance, my dear. This is about diplomacy, the stability of our land. You were raised for this.”

You screamed, “I wasn’t raised to be sold off like property!”

“Mind your tone.” The king shouts.

“No.” you stepped forward, that made him look at you, his eyes blazing with fury as he witnessed you defy him, “I went to university. I’m the first one in this family who studied mechanical engineering. I built things with my own hands. I raced. I trained in secret because you won’t allow me to have a proper racing trainer! I almost died trying to learn racing and none of you cared! And I’m supposed to believe this is for my own betterment!”

Your mother reached for you gently, getting up from her seat, “Darling, your education was never meant to distract you from your duty-”

“It wasn’t a distraction!” you snapped, as your mother looked at you with pleading eyes, “It is my dream. It has been my dream since forever! I have told you I want to race Formula One. I want a life outside these walls. I can’t be poised and perfect forever mother!” your voice cracked, “I’m twenty-five years old, not a pawn on a chessboard for you to move however you please!”

Ramil’s voice pierced through, “You really think they'll let a royal heir drive 300 kilometers an hour in a tin box?” he moved towards you, resting his glass on the coffee table.

You turned to him, fighting tears, your eyes glassy, “I thought you would understand.”

“I do, y/n.” he breathes out, “but you cannot escape this, so accept it.”

Your father stood now, voice strained but measured, he takes your hand patting it gently, “Y/n dearest, we love you. We all want what’s best for you…”

“Then say something!” you begged, your voice trembled. “Don’t just make me accept this alliance, Help me dad, Please.”

Before he could say anything, The King’s voice rang out louder, “You will marry Idris of Meira within the year, I have made arrangements with his court. That is my final word.”

“Father, If I may…” your father’s words were cut off in an instant

“I said… that is my final word!” He slammed his cane on the ground, and it was like if time had stopped for a second.

Nobody moved, nobody breathed. The monarch had spoken, and his words were as final as a statement written on stone.

Your eyes swept the room, looking at your mother, your father, and your brother. No one met your gaze; out of shame or sadness... you would never know.

---/---/---

The doors had been closed, but the voices inside had been carried out perfectly. The servants outside stood frozen, and the bodyguards exchanged quiet glances. Some felt sorry for the princess, others were scared and somewhat anticipated of what would happen next.

Joaquin stood in the corridor just behind the corner, his jaw tight and his fists clenched as he heard your shouts and the King’s booming voice echo through the hallway.

A loud click of a lock opening broke everyone out of their trance.

He saw her when she fiercely walked back to her quarters; grabbing the front of her giant dress, barefoot, her heels in hand, her makeup smeared with tears streaking her cheeks. And despite all of this, her head was high and her back straight. She stopped in her tracks as she glanced back at the door, hoping for someone to stop her.

No one did.

Her eyes locked with his, and he saw a tear tumble down her face before she turned and continued on her way.

Joaquin moved immediately.

---/---/---

The corridor outside her private quarters was silent, save for the quiet, muffled sobs echoing from the other side of the carved rosewood door of her bedroom. He had ordered the guards to clear the area, and had updated the security protocols: only two people besides immediate family had clearance to enter the Princess’s personal chambers.

Him, and Asha, her handmaiden.

Joaquin stood still, jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to slam open the doors and hold her tight, but he stood at his place, his patience hanging by a thread as each sob of her tore through his heart. She needed space after the whirlwind of information was dumped on her out of nowhere, but he couldn't just stand still and do nothing.

Asha paced nearby, her petite figure distressed, worry shadowing her usually bright face, her arms folded tightly across her chest, “The Princess hasn’t cried like this in years,” she whispered, almost as if afraid you would hear her. She had seen her grow from a toddler to now, her wise eyes held the worry a mother's would for her child.

Joaquin didn’t answer, he just nodded at her as he stared at the door, waiting for you to open it.

He recalled a different version of you that would throw tantrums like these for the most illogical reasons; a wilder, untamed version.

You were nineteen when he first met you, he bowed and greeted you as you made a sour face, spoiled and recklessness reeking from your aura, of an overgrown child with a royal title and money that could buy you anything you wished for.

“Princess of Speed,” the tabloids had called you. Others were less kind: “The Royal Wreck,” “Drift Princess,” “Crowned Chaos.”

He had seen you laugh about the mess the next day, but had also noticed how the smile never reached your eyes anytime you read the articles.

He had found you half-drunk on rooftops, snuck you out of red-lit clubs swarming with creeps, yanked you from the passenger seat of cars moments before they launched into illegal drag races.

But the worst night… he still had nightmares recalling how horribly wrong it could have gone if it wasn’t for him to act rogue and breaking protocol.

---/---/-----/----/-----

[Listen to Two Hands by Tate McRae for this scene for better experience]

Six years ago, Vienna

He’d gotten the intel too late.

Oil slicks were laid down past the first curve of the track with hard debris meant to cause a wipeout. The kind of trap designed for a car like hers, the fastest cars on the track. Anything going above 90 was not coming back from it.

She was going to die.

Joaquin gritted his teeth as he tore through the roads on a stolen Ducati motorbike, the roar of the engine screaming beneath him. The underground track loomed ahead; the dark, sharp, uncharted roads calling out to her as y/n sat poised behind the wheel of a goddamn Lamborghini, seconds from launching herself into it like it was just another thrill.

The crowd parted like the red sea as he blared his horn and skidded the Ducati across the tarmac, blocking her path just as she had hit the gas pedal at the starting point. The Lambo screeched to a halt in seconds, and he heard a rather interesting curse word screamed at him, fury blazing in the princesses’ eyes before she even opened the door.

She strutted towards him, wearing a short skirt and white top with a racing jacket, ready to fight him in the middle of the road, “What the actual—!”

Joaquin took off his helmet, walking to her in a hurry, “Forgive me, your highness, but I swear to God…” he snapped, stalking toward her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

She looked more shocked than afraid to see him, but he didn’t care. He grabbed her by the arms, grounding her, shaking her just enough to make her look at him. Her entire body shook, as she processed that Joaquin was actually standing in front of her.

“There’s a trap on the curve. Designed for you to loose control in seconds.” He screamed as the crowd roared around them, watching the race start.

She opened her mouth to argue, but behind them, he heard it; racing bikes, at least four, moving fast and close to them.

“The paparazzi. They traced your car.” He looked at her with panic in his eyes.

She froze as soon as she heard the roaring bikes, two racing past them towards the road where she was supposed to crash.

Joaquin leaned in, lowering his voice. “Y/n, hey.” He held her face, “soon they will realize you’re not racing! You need to get on that bike. Now.”

She hesitated, but Joaquin pulled her with him, “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again.”

She groaned, rolled her eyes but climbed onto the Ducati behind him, silent as he handed her his helmet. She didn’t protest when he grabbed her hands and placed them around his waist.

“Hold on,” he muttered.

Then they were flying. The Ducati ripped through the confused crowd who wondered why she left the race, entering a maze of streets, the tires kissing death on every corner. Seconds later he heard it; bikes chasing them, the camera flashing. Joaquin zipped up his jacket to his chin, his face down, as camera flashes distracted him. Shouts echoed, calling y/n to look back, but she held him tighter, refusing to look up. He didn’t let himself feel anything; not the way her grip tightened around his body, not the way his chest burned as she grabbed his jacket.

He’d swore as he swerved his bike through uncharted streets, the pedestrians screaming obscenities his ways, but all he cared was to lose the paparazzi who were hell bent on getting a click. He knew in that moment he would do anything for her.

And if it meant risking everything; his life, his dignity, his job, his heart… so be it.

---/---/---

They lost the paps after 20 minutes of circling back and forth inside the city, and he was damn sure he was soon to be banned in this Vienna forever, if he was lucky enough not to be thrown in jail. Joaquin rode in silence, her arms still tight around his waist long after they were gone.

As soon as they entered her room, shedidn't even turned on the lights before turning on the TV... which flashed the latest news: “police have found two cars crashed into each other at the underground tunnel which seemed to have been a part of the illegal street races that had been happening at night. The perpetrators were captured, and one of them had been sent to the emergency ward with severe injuries.”

His eyes found her in an instant, standing in the middle of her hotel suite; her face illuminated by the TV's light, devoid of color, flushed cheeks, wind-tangled hair, knuckles white at her sides. The girl who was so used to take up all the room anywhere she was present, now looked small in the silence that followed as he shut the TV off.

Then she finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper, “Does nobody care if I live or die?”

He blinked, his breath quickened.

“Is my life so cheap that they can sell it for mere… pictures?” Her voice cracked on the last word. She turned to face him fully, tears welling, brimming. “Is that all I am? A price tag for the highest bidder?”

His throat tightened, watching her crumble in front of his eyes. He had never seen her scared, ever. Even when he reprimanded her for trying to jump off of the palace walls.

He stepped forward, “I do,” he said on his own accord, “I care.”

Something in her crumbled as he spoke, her lips trembled into a smile, as if she didn’t believe him, tears slipped freely down her cheeks as a sob wrecked through her.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered, her legs shaking while she hid her face in her hands.

Joaquin moved as if he was possessed, like his mind and body were saying two different things. But in three long strides, he was there. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in. She clung to him like she’d fall apart if she let go, sobbing into his chest, grief and fear and exhaustion of the entire day unraveling all at once.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe.” He caressed her hair, soothing her back as she shook with every sob.

That night, he hadn’t screamed at her.

When she finally cried herself to sleep on the bed, curled like a child, he covered her and took a seat. He stayed by her side the entire night, sitting in the armchair next to her bed, watching her breathe.

Vowing to himself; this would never happen again. Nobody would ever come this close to harm her. because he would reach to them first

He would cross the ends of the earth to keep her from harm, and no one would ever come close to hurting her like this again.

---/---/---

That was the night something in Joaquin... shifted. That was the moment everything changed for him, when his heart began to flutter anytime, she was sad or close to danger. His heart seemed alive when she smiled, or laughed, or dragged him off to talk his ears off about engines and races and F1, breath stopping when she would mention any racer who looked cute in her opinion.

The Princess changed after Vienna. She didn’t run away from the palace; she worked with NGO’s and genuinely worked to change the lives of the underprivileged. She took responsibility, asked him to teach her how to drive safely and not gas her car from 0 to 100 in three seconds like a rookie. He saw her join university abroad, and he followed her to keep her safe. He saw her study for hours, write reports, and her own speeches for ceremonies and public events. he kept her at an arms distance, but close enough so the creeps wouldn't dare approach her at frat parties.

And somewhere in the middle of state visits and etiquette lessons, he had stopped seeing her as a spoiled kid and started seeing her as a person. Flawed, yes, but absolutely fearless.

But tonight, she was back behind that locked door like she’d been then. It had been years since she did this. He heard another sob echo through the closed doors, and that was his last straw. He turned to the door, “Princess,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

No answer.

He tried again, this time stronger, but still gentle. “Your Highness. Just open the door and let me know you’re alright.”

Her crying paused, and he heard her footsteps come closer. He rested his palm against the wood, gulping, debating what to say next, “I don’t need you to talk,” he said. “I just...” His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, “I just need to see you. To know you’re okay.”

Joaquin felt her presence through the door; she was standing right behind it. Asha cast him a glance, walking to the door, resting her hand on his shoulder. He leaned his forehead against the wood now. “y/n,” he whispered the name only a few were allowed to use, “please.”

A moment passed, Asha looked at him and then at the door, and all of a sudden, they heard the sound of slow movement inside. A slipper scuffing the floor, and the turn of a lock - Click.

The door cracked open an inch, just enough to reveal a tear-streaked face looking up at him, her eyes red, pouting. Joaquin didn’t move. He just looked at her, and all the rage boiling inside him softened in an instant.

“Hey.” He said, “can I come in?” She gulped, breathing hard, and finally, she nodded.

---/---/---

When the door creaked fully open, she stood right in front of him; barefoot, her hair a mess, and her cheeks still stained with tears.

She was still in her dress, but now the satin of her flared gown had been ripped open at the skirt seam, and the sleeves were ripped apart. Joaquin realized that she had tried to get out of the dress on her own, but the corset restricted her moments, and she had decided that tearing up the dress in shreds was the way to go.

And honestly, he didn’t blame her.

Asha was already behind her, muttering, “Dear lord,” before hurrying to unfasten the shredded gown from the back. Her top loosened, threatening to fall down, and he quickly cleared his throat and turned around.

Joaquin walked out to the princesses’ sitting room, standing near the threshold trying not to think about how the corset hugged your chest to push your breasts up, and he had unwillingly witnessed the swell of them just seconds ago. He instead focused on your conversation with Asha as she frantically dressed you into your night clothes and cleaned you up as you blared out an angry rant onto your ancestors for repressing the women in your lineage that had led to this... unsure if he should follow inside or wait until he’s summoned.

Y/n whined at Asha like a child, “Burn the bloody dress. I don’t ever want to see that thing again!”

Then, her voice came for him, low and tired. “You coming in, or do you need a royal scroll to give you permission?”

He exhaled slowly at the sarcasm and stepped inside.

By the time the door shut, y/n had changed into her softest, most worn-out clothing: a faded 1970’s Monaco Grand Prix shirt that practically hung by a thread, and loose trousers rolled at the ankles. Her hair was still wild as Asha tugged at the knots, but to Joaquin, she now looked more herself than she had all night.

Asha braided her hair and she flopped face-first onto the bed with the dramatic flair of someone who’d just lost a war.

“No one enters,” she mumbled into a pillow. “Except you two. Got it?”

“I told the guards already. Don’t worry.” Joaquin says softly, walking to the sofa near her bed.

Asha got busy folding up the destroyed gown with practiced efficiency, getting it out of sight before y/n decides she actually wants to burn the gown.

Joaquin took off his suit jacket, draping it on the back of the sofa near her bed, and takes a seat leaning back, his arms crossed. “You alright now?”. Y/n turned her face to the side to glare at him, her cheek pressed to the velvet pillow. She opened her mouth to slap him with some snide remark, but before she could answer, her stomach gave a loud, angry growl.

Asha’s eyes snapped to her like a laser. “What have you eaten today?” she looks at the princess accusingly, her hands on her waist. The princess winced and slowly turned her gaze to Joaquin with guilt written all over her face.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, “Ay dios mio.” He pulled out his phone, “I’m ordering food. Real food, all your favorites.”

“And boba tea, my treat.” she mumbled into the pillow.

“Obviously.” He scoffed.

---/---/---

Fifteen minutes later, the mood in the room had transformed completely.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, your mood a bit better and face a little brighter. Your lap was covered in crumpled wrappers and boxes: fried chicken, spicy fries, mango pudding, dumplings, and, yes, the largest boba tea cup money could buy. You devoured it all like it was your final meal on earth.

Joaquin sat on your sofa watching you with amused disbelief, “I swear, you eat like you haven’t seen food in a decade.”

You took a big gulp of the boba tea, and spoke, “You’ve seen our palace menus. I’m lucky I still know what seasoning tastes like.”

Asha, sweeping up the bits of tissue and packaging, sat down next to you and swiped a stray strand of hair from your face, “I haven’t seen you throw a tantrum like this since you were twenty and your new designer shoes didn’t match with any of the purses you owned.”

“They clashed, Asha. It was a fashion emergency.” You said between bites, smiling at the memory. It had taken you some time to leave old habits of getting what you want anytime you want. You had learned how to act like a decent human being and not throw a tantrum at the smallest inconvenience.

Joaquin chuckled along with Asha, as she lovingly wiped your face with a tissue, helping you so you don’t spill the food.

You smiled at the sound that you so rarely heard, watching him look at you with a smile on his face, the way his eyes crinkled, and his canines peeked out a bit behind his lips. He was a handsome looking man in every sense, but more so, he was a good man. And sometimes, he took himself too seriously. It soothed your heart watching him sit back and relax once in a while.

Asha took your hand, rubbing it, and she asked you hesitantly, “So… Are you actually going to marry Prince Idris?”

You paused mid-sip, narrowing your eyes, “What do you think?”

Joaquin shared a look with Asha, and you giggled.

Not the cute kind, but the devious one that you involuntarily let out, any time before you did something crazy. You set the drink down and leaned forward like a child about to tell a ghost story. “Alright. I’ll tell you both a secret. But it stays between the three of us. Pinky swears.” You extend your hand to Asha, and she obliges.

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

The princess grinned wickedly. “C’mon, soldier boy. You know the rules.”

He scoffed at his nickname that you called him just to annoy him, and with an exaggerated sigh, Joaquin stood near the bed and held out his hand. She locked her pinky with his, and smiled.

She whispered, “Prince Idris is planning to abdicate.”

Both of them blinked, taken aback by the revelation.

You smiled and continued, “I knew him before, he did a semester at my college.” You sit straight, “nobody knew he was a prince, and even if they did, they didn’t care. I had guessed he doesn’t want the throne, living like he did back then. We talked for hours tonight, and he confirmed it... he will announce it in a few weeks.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened slightly. Then he leaned back in the chair and exhaled hard, “That’s great!”

Aveline tilted her head, suspicious. She gave him a look, one he dodged expertly, to which he replied, “…for you. It’s good for you because you won’t have to marry him.”

You nod, and go back to eating your food, when Asha yawned, stretching with a dramatic sigh. “Princess y/n, with all due respect…”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god Asha just go! Stop with the formalities!”

She happily gathered the trash and bowed to you, addressing Joaquin as she went away, “Do not let her burn the gown in the bedroom, she can do it tomorrow in the garden.”

Joaquin nods and you mutter, “I heard that?” as Asha left, closing the doors behind her.

And then, they were alone.

Joaquin huffed out a breath, leaning back on the sofa, exhausted after a long long night.

---/---/---

Having dismissed Asha, the final cleaning duties fell on you.

Not that you mind it, you did it all the time in college. It was a way to get your mind off of things. You cleared the bed in slow movements, the weight of the night falling on you. Torn silk, broken pearls, the remnants of your tantrum were all swept aside when you finally gave up. Joaquin watched you silently after you refused his help and hissed, “sit your ass down pretty boy.” his presence was dear to you, you never felt more at ease with anyone other than him.

He somehow always knew when you were going through a hard time, as if he looked right through you. At first, it scared you, but now, alone with him in your room, it was comforting.

She exhaled sharply and looked at him, strands of hair falling across her face. “You going to just stare at me like a statue, Torres?”

Joaquin chuckled his voice low, standing up. “Here to supervise your highness’ dramatic bedtime routine.”

“Dramatic?” you quipped, placing your hands on your waist, “thank the man upstairs you weren’t here to witness my meltdown.”

“Nah, I’ve been watching it all these years,” he muttered, and made you throw your pillow at him, which he caught with his insane reflexes, his biceps bulging through his white formal shirt, his tie loose, his vest still intact after all this.

Once the bed was cleared, you stretched with a loud sigh, arms above her head, and Joaquin seemed to look away, and you instantly retreated, realizing you just exposed your midriff to him.

“Sorry.” You muttered.

Joaquin paused for a beat, watching you, and then said, “I have something for you.”

That made you perk up instantly, eyes shining, “You do?”

He reached into his jacket on the sofa, and pulled out a small, black wrapped box... neatly tied with a pink ribbon. Your excitement knew no bounds as you hurried off to him, standing a head shorter than him now that you were out of your heels, your chin tilted up to meet his gaze, arms tucked behind your back like a curious child. Joaquin looked away for a second, smiling with his teeth bared, and gave the box to you.

You gently took the box and unwrapped it, the content inside made your heart jump.

Nestled inside was a silver necklace, its pendant was an oval frame holding a pale pink gemstone the size of your index nail. It was beautiful, you hesitate to even touch it, fearing you’d break the fragile looking stone.

“It’s a star sapphire,” Joaquin said quietly, making you look at him, “I found it some years ago on a trip to Jaipur. I… I kept it, kind of… because…” he trailed off.

Your fingers brushed against the chain. “It’s beautiful, Joaquin.” You looked up at him again, speechless, your lips slightly parted, a blush crept up your neck, and you asked him hesitantly, “Help me put it on?”

He nodded, stepping behind you. His hands were steady as he lifted the chain, and you brushed your hair to a side to give him access. For a moment, his scent; musk, dawn-like, and something uniquely him… washed over you. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and you let out a small exhale. His hands lingered, just a heartbeat too long, his figure looming behind you, before he stepped back as he secured the clasp.

“There,” he murmured, his voice husky. You turned back to him, your hand resting above the pendant, as the pink gemstone glistened against your skin, “Thank you… Joaquin.”

You looked at him to see his shoulders slumped, his hands fidgeting, he looked up at you, almost blushing, “uh… the necklace… I know it’s not much. I… it’s alright if you don’t like-” You cut him off by grabbing his shoulders and shaking him playfully, “Don’t be stupid, Joaquin. I love it, it’s more precious than anything I’ve ever worn.” He looks at you, his eyes crinkling as a wide smile spread across his face, and you added, “also… it’s pink so it will go with all my outfits.” you trailed off as you twirled in your room, earning a laugh from him.

“Well in that case…” he pulled another, slightly larger box from behind him and held it out.

You tilt your head, puzzled at how he materialized the box out of thin air, “how did you…”

“Just take it”

“Okay.” You smile, tearing it opens with childish glee and gasped, “You didn’t!” It was your favorite pastry. Rich chocolate layers with raspberry filling and tons of whipped cream from that tiny bakery near the end of the city that nobody knew you loved… except for him.

You squeaked, actually squeaked, jumping up and down, He saw how sad you got in the past few weeks when you were put on a strict diet to fit in your birthday gown, glooming to him about how you can’t even have your favorite sweets in secret because they will know. You looked at how happy he seemed watching you so ecstatic, and you couldn’t help it. You jumped into his arms, hugging him tight, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Joaquin froze, his arms hovering before he slowly wrapped them around you. You had no idea how long you stayed like that; before you pulled away and flopped into your sofa, feet curled beneath you like a cat, already devouring the pastry. You didn’t miss how he stood transfixed at your act, and slowly moved to lean against the nearest wall, hands in his pockets. To divert your mind off of how you still feel his body against yours, you mumbled between bites, “You know the crazy part? I didn’t even eat the stupid humongous cake they made me cut today.” You looked at him, and found him amused at this revelation, “Everyone got a piece and I was rushed off to ‘get presentable for your first dance with Father!!!' ugh! I didn’t even get a bite!”

Joaquin smiled sadly, watching you, “you should have just ordered them to give you some.”

“Ha ha.” You deadpanned, licking the remnants of the pastry from your fingertips, when you caught him staring at you, “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said softly. “You’re just… happy.” His smile dimmed slightly, softened. “For the first time in a while.”

“Can you blame me?” you tilt your head, and perk up, “Can I ask for one more gift?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Greedy.”

You stood and walked to the center of the room, barefoot on the fine fur carpets, extending you had to him, “Dance with me.”

Joaquin blinked, straightening his back, “What?”

“You owe me a dance, soldier boy.” You laugh, “we were interrupted by a certain prince, remember?”

---/---/---

He did remember, the scene of her being led on the dance floor while he stood helpless in the back will forever be etched in his brain, he feared.

Joaquin took her hand, and it fit into his perfectly. She placed her other on his shoulder, and his hand found the small of her back.

“Just like we practiced?” he asks her.

“Just like we practiced.”  She smiled, her face just inches away from him.

“Don’t step on my toes, princess.” He smirked, earning a slap on his shoulders, and he led her.

They moved in slow circles, the wind against the windows being the music, the low ceiling lights the witness to their waltz.

“Is your mood any better now?” he asked.

“Kind of.” She shrugged.

He looked at her for a while, the faint smile on her lips nly increased when he twirled her and bought her back in his arms, swaying. He assured her, “His majesty won’t make you marry Prince Idris if he announces his abdication.”

“I know.” She says, and her smile drops for a bit, “but there will be more prospects, better than the Kingdom of Meira… prospects I won’t have any say in.” she looked at his crooked collar, and adjusted it a bit.

“I want to drive in Monaco.” she said, eyes on him, “I want to feel the G’s on my body from an actual F1 car… I’ve studied that they are way harder than any sports car, not even a Bugatti can do that! You know, if you don’t strap in correctly in the racing pit, the G’s are sometimes so hard on your body you can get concussions.” Her smile was back, like she was imagining driving a racing car in the pit.” She took a step back and walked around Joaquin, her ands caressing his shoulders and then back into his arms, “I want to Travel more… Greece, Mongolia, Shanghai… Grandma went on a world tour when she was young, she used to tell me all kinds of stories from her days... I want to know who I am Joaquin, I can’t do that sitting in a castle.”

“Run away.” The words tumbled out of his mouth as he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he said.

“What?” She asked him, her eyes wide in shock.

He breathed out, “Run away, your highness. Don’t tell me you never thought of it.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, staring at each other in peril… hand in hand, their bodies close.

Y/n’s brows raised, he could see the gears in her head turning... And then… she smirked.

The same smirk that had gotten her into trouble too many times.

“Okay,” she whispered, eyes burning like stars. “I’m listening, soldier boy.”

---/---/---

Joaquin didn’t waste time. He stepped into the hallway to take a look; six guards, all mobile, every single one’s eyes on the door. Probably deployed by the king to give him updates on the princess. One of them, probably the newest one, seemed a bit startled to watching Joaquin slam open the doors.

Bingo!

Joaquin looked that guard dead in the eyes, and dropped his voice an octave, “Her Highness wishes for complete privacy,” he said firmly. “Only Asha and I are permitted. No one else enters.”

The guard exchanged glances with the others standing near, but Joaquin’s tone left no room for discussion. He nodded, and the guard next to him relaxed a bit but stood firm.

He needs another opening, not from the main hallway. So where? He rushed to the balconies, and saw the next one; prince Ramil’s quarters. There was a reason even princess y/n never dared to cross the balconies on her own, because the distance wasn’t the problem…it was the height. Below him there were three floors, one mistake and then fall was on concrete.

Inside, y/n began pulling open drawers and cabinets rushing to fill a duffle bag with anything she could. Asha rushed in a moment later hearing the commotion, eyes flicking from the princess’s hurried actions and to Joaquin, and she knew something serious was happening. She flexed her hands and joined y/n.

“Pack light,” Joaquin rushed in, urgency in his voice. “Clothes, cash, and jewelry. They’ll freeze your accounts the second they know you’re gone.”

Asha moved swiftly, helping y/n gather simple clothes, jewelry that could be sold easily, and a modest amount of cash. y/n, now dressed in black cargo trousers, a simple white t-shirt and her black leather jacket, stuffed the cash inside her pockets and shoes, looking at a baffled Joaquin and then shrugging, “I’ve seen spy movies, dude.” She turned to Asha, and gave her childhood handmaiden a tight hug.

“Take care of mom,” she whispered, “Tell them you were asleep, okay?” y/n said, wiping Asha’s tears, “just stay safe.”

Asha smiled despite the tears in her eyes, realizing this might be the last time she sees the princess, “You too princess, you’ve got this. Show them what you’re made of.”

With one last look around her quarters, Y/n joined Joaquin, who was already leading her to the balcony. y/n stopped dead in her tracks, “no, no, no! I am not jumping into Ramil’s quarters.”

“There are guards outside!” Joaquin hushed her, dragging her behind him, y/n whining as she followed.

Joaquin threw the bag first, and then climbed the railing and made the jump, perfectly, looking at y/n, “come on.”

“If I die Joaquin I will haunt your ass forever.” y/n looked at the sky, took a deep breath and climbed the railing. Joaquin stood guard as he prepared to catch her, but then she got down and tied her hair back.

“What the hell?” he whisper yelled.

“I don’t have Slenderman legs like you! I need momentum idiot!” saying so, Y/n ran to the end of the balcony and ran towards him with full speed, and like a cat, she jumped off of the railing to grab the other one… and missed.

Joaquin grabbed her hands as she squealed and hung on one side, trying not to scream. He pulled her up, and grabbed her waist as she hooked her leg on the railing and climbed up, breathing hard.

“You good?” he pulled her up to her feet as he slings the bag on his back. She looked him dead in the eyes, scoffed, and gently opened the door to Ramil’s quarters.

---/---/---

They tiptoe into the room, and find the living room to be darkened and quiet, the door of Ramil’s bedroom ajar, his figure under the covers. Y/n grabbed his hand as he looked ahead, the main door to the quarters was right in front of them, so they walked swiftly to cross the room.

Only to freeze as they hear the clink of a lighter opening.

Leaning against a pillar, lazily lighting a cigarette, Prince Ramil was right next to the door, his face illuminated by the lighter’s fire. Joaquin was quick to grab y/n’s arm and shove her behind him as Prince Ramil looked at the scene in front of him with his brows lifted.

“Well, hello.” he asked, voice low, “How do I owe the pleasure of you two sneaking into my quarters?”

Y/n let go of Joaquin’s hand, and stepped forward, crossing her arms. “I thought you quit smoking.”

Ramil stayed silent as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze flicking between his sister and Joaquin. When he noticed the bag on his shoulder, his eyes softened, “You’re running away.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Ramil exhaled loudly looking at his cigarette, then he crushed it on the nearest brass vase, and shoved his hands into his shiny grey silk nightgown, “Well, I always said you were the brave one.”

y/n blinked, sharing a glance with Joaquin.

“Take the underpass to the airfield. I’ll have the jet ready at the private hangar.”

“Brother…” Y/n gasped.

Ramil only smiled, “I won’t ask where you’re going. Don’t tell me either, y/n.”

He stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug, “Live your life, for yourself, and for me. I’ll be the lazy brat heir who loves easy money to a nonexistent nation and follow silly rules." he sighed, "I'll make grandpa regret ever thinking he had any control over us.”

She let out a soft laugh into his shoulder, “I love you, bro bear.” He pulled back with a mocking grimace and ruffled her hair, “we were having a nice moment, dude.”

Ramil turned to Joaquin, throwing him a key, “Take the back stairwell, and keep her safe. I’ll have Sam take care of the cameras.” He smacked him on the shoulder, and opened the door.

“Stay safe.” Ramil told his sister, who turned back to take one last look and then held Joaquin’s hand, running.

---/---/---/---

The corridor echoed with their footsteps as they ran together without looking back, finding the gate to the stairwell as Joaquin worked on getting the ancient lock open, and as they descended down the stairs, they found Sam Wilson, Ramil’s bodyguard running up.

“I owe you one,” Joaquin muttered as Sam passed him a data card, and Joaquin gave him the stair keys.

“I’ll make sure the cameras loop for the next and past 10 minutes,” Sam grinned, glancing at y/n and bowing, “farewell, princess.”

“Thank you Sam.” y/n smiled as she ran downstairs.

---/---/---

Y/n’s boots pounded the cobblestones of the courtyard, breath shallow as she ran beside Joaquin, the cold night air biting at her cheeks. His hand gripped hers tightly, and he looked around alert of anyone moving past. His white dress shirt was partially unbuttoned beneath his dark vest, hair mussed from all the running, his brows raised in process, “Almost there, Princess.” he said over his shoulder.

But Y/n wasn’t looking ahead.

She was looking at him.

And suddenly, her chest clenched, not from the running, but from a memory that came rushing back so vividly it was like she was living it again.

---/---/---/---

Two Years Ago, Y/n’s 23rd birthday

The palace had long gone to sleep.

Moonlight spilled across the royal courtyard, over marble benches and carefully sculpted rose hedges. You were sitting barefoot on the edge of the stone fountain, your feet splashing in the water as the fountain’s droplets fell on the hem of your gown, the heels discarded beside you.

You had excused yourself as soon as the party came to a halt, your parents always made a big show out of your birthday as to tell the world, ‘Hey, look! She isn’t crazy anymore!’. You absentmindedly toyed with a silver ring on your fingers; one you never wear out in public. It had belonged to your late grandmother, whom you loved more than anyone.

Joaquin stood a few feet away, suit jacket slung over a bench, tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the throat. He watched her in silence, arms crossed, like he didn’t want to intrude but wouldn’t leave unless ordered to.

You looked up at him and scoffed, “Are you always going to look at me like that?”

He raised a brow. “Like what?”

Turning back to watch the moon’s reflection rippling in the water, you speak, “Like I’m one bad decision away from combusting.”

He chuckled softly, stepping closer. “You are one bad decision away from combusting.”

You smiled faintly, “Touché.”

He stood beside you, but not too close. Joaquin was always respectful, and always four paces behind you, especially in public.

“Why are you still here, Joaquin?” you asked, quietly.

“Because I will be fired if I don’t see you to your quarters tonight, princess.” He deadpanned.

You laughed, “no, I mean…” you took a deep breath, “You could’ve left after Vienna. No one would’ve blamed you.”

“I don’t leave people behind.”

You looked at him for a long time, your head tilting, “What if they are a reckless mess?”

He met your gaze, “Especially then.”

Silence lingered as the sound of the fountain filled the space between you.

“I don’t know if I am built for this, Joaquin.” you whispered, like a confession. “All these people, these rules. I feel like I’m suffocating under diamonds and…” she grabbed the hem of your gown, “this stupid gown. It’s not even real silk who even…” you almost got distracted until Joaquin spoke.

“You’re whatever you want to be, a princess, a high society lady, or a drag racing champion,” he said softly. “I’ll be here with you until you decide.”

You look at the sky above, watching the full moon shining down as the cold water grounded you to reality, “You shouldn’t do that,” you murmured. “Be kind to me like this.”

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you, “Why not?”

“Because I’m starting to count on it.”

He didn’t answer immediately. He let the question linger, as if deciding what to say next, “Don’t you trust me, your highness?”

You blinked, a smirk on your face, “only a little..."

He scoffed, “Seriously, Princess?”

A smile tugged at your lips “Okay, okay! I trust you.”

A breath passed between the two of you, he watched you and you played with the water.

You sat up slowly and looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, the palace around you didn’t matter. The titles, the burden of the crown, your duty as a princess and his as you guard.

It was just two people looking at each other; a woman scared to take a leap, and a man ready to catch her when she does. This wasn’t just admiration. This wasn’t gratitude. He made you feel seen, not as a crown or a scandal… but as yourself.

You see the same thing in his eyes, the same feeling in his heart as yours.

“Looks like I’m in trouble,” you said, a broken smile forming.

“I know,” he murmured. “Me too.”

You take a step closer, close enough to feel his heat on your skin, and as being pulled by an unknown force… he staggered back, looking at his feet, “It’s getting late. I’ll escort you to your rooms, your highness.”

And though nothing more was said that night… You didn’t forget the way he looked at you in the moonlight. The way he stayed silent when he could have ruined everything.

That was the night you knew, you were in love with Joaquin Torres.

---/---/---/---

In the garage, your footsteps echoed across the large basement, and your eyes searched for your prized possession; a gift from your parents on your 18th birthday; a hot pink custom Mustang. You wondered what their reaction would be when they find out about you running away in it.

You find the car, gleaming next to Ramil’s black Range Rover, and you thank your past self for the maintenance job you did for the car only days ago.

Joaquin opened the door for you and tossed the bag in as you settled into the seat with practiced ease, closing the door behind you.

And didn’t get in.

You frowned, rolling down the window. “What are you doing? Get in.”

He shook his head, taking a step back. “I’m not coming with you. Not yet.” He said, ready to run the minute you start the engine.

“What?” Your voice cracked as you get out of the car and he groaned, “What the hell do you mean not yet?”

“This is not the time for you to be demanding y/n get in the car and go!” he shouts.

“I’m not leaving without you!” you shout back.

“Hush!” he panics, slapping a hand on your mouth, something he had never dared to do, “I need to stay behind and distract them. If I disappear with you, they’ll track both of us.”

Your heart began to pound for a different reason now; panic clawing at your throat, imagining everything horrible that might be unleashed on him, “No, no, you promised, Joaquin. You said you’d keep me safe.” tears brimmed in your eyes.

Joaquin’s chest rose and fell, his vest now open and his sleeves rolled up, he looked like a cursed prince who was to be sacrificed. He took a steady breath and stepped closer to you, his eyes locking on yours.

“They’ll hurt you, Joaquin!.” You shake your head, tears falling freely, “You don’t have to do the noble sacrifice act Joaquin!”

He held your face in his hands, smiling through his own tears brimming in his dark brown eyes, “You are amazing, princess,” he said, voice low and steady. “you deserve the world, and every good thing it has to offer. You’re more than the crown, and you need to listen to me when I say this; I love you. I’ve loved you for a long, long time. And it will break my heart to watch you be chained in this palace for nothing. So, go. Now. And let me handle the rest.” A sad laugh leaves his lips, as a single tear rolls down his face, “I’ll find you. I always do.”

Your throat tightened, and you let out a laugh, “You’re such an idiot.”

You grab the front of his shirt, and smash your mouth against his.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you closer. It wasn’t soft, or patient. It was pure, raging fire… forged in years of hidden glances, of duty, the ‘almost’, and all the things you were never allowed to say to him.

You pulled back just as fast, tears brimming in your eyes, “I love you too, soldier boy.” You whisper, caressing his face. He laughed as he rested his forehead against yours, “stay safe out there.”

“You too.” You say, taking to steps back, “and I’m sorry for this.”

You throw a clean punch on his nose, maybe a bit too hard.

He winced as he staggered back, grabbing his face as blood flew from his nose, “Ow! What the fuck?”

“In case someone asks why you didn’t follow me,” you said, wincing at the blood, “You can say I knocked you down in the garage.”

Joaquin stared at you, stunned, his face bloody, his lips parted like he wanted to say something.

And then he laughed, making your heart ache, and then waving, “bye, y/n.”

“bye.” You wave back, and all you wanted to do in that moment was to hug him tight and never let go, but that wasn’t possible.

So, you got into the car, revved the engine and looked at him for one last time…

And drove into the night.

---/---/---

One Year Later

The headlines had been relentless for weeks after she disappeared.

"Tavreshi's Rebel Princess: Vanished Without a Trace?" "Royal Scandal: Drift Princess Gone Rogue" "Abdication or Abduction? The Tavreshi Royal Palace Remains Tight-Lipped"

The royal palace stood as it always had; stone cold, high, immaculate, and painfully perfect. But everything inside it had shifted. A silence haunted the marble corridors and the sunlit courtyards. It was the kind of silence that didn't come from the absence of sound, but from the absence of chaos.

Princess y/n of Tavreshi had vanished without a trace in the dead of the night. No trail, no clues. She was gone like a whisper in the wind.

And the kingdom was grueling the people within the palace with a hundred questions.

“Where is the Princess?” “Why hasn’t she been seen since her twenty-fifth birthday?” “Was she exiled because of her rebellious past?” “Was it true she was in love with Prince Idris and was heartbroken after his abdication?” “Did she abdicate and went away in secret?”

The official statement was delivered after a few weeks, delivered stiffly by a senior advisor on a podium outside the palace;

"Her Royal Highness Princess y/n of Tavreshi has chosen to abdicate her title and step away from royal duties for personal reasons. She had left the palace for a peaceful retreat, and we ask for privacy and offer no further comment. Thank you."

But behind the curtain of diplomacy, everything was falling apart.

The King had lost his temper the day after Princess y/n vanished. He'd hurled a decanter of aged scotch across the room, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces as Prince Ramil, and the king and queen reagent watched in horror, “She has humiliated this house! This nation!” he had thundered. “And you, Joaquin, were supposed to be her shadow!”

If it weren’t for Prince Ramil and Sam physically holding him back, the King would have broken Joaquin’s healing nose a second time. The man was trembling with rage, shouting about betrayal, national disgrace, and how he knew Joaquin had helped her escape. Joaquin was detained in the palace's interrogation room for three days. The questions came in waves; from the detectives, from the security head, from the King himself.

“Did you know she would run away?” “When did you realize she is not coming back?” “Did you kidnap her? Was this coordinated with outsiders?”

And Joaquin? He stuck to one story.

“I followed the princess to the garage,” he said calmly, every single time, “I assumed it was one of her tantrums, she’s run off before. I thought she’d feel better after a drive. But she punched me in the nose, and I fainted.”

“You didn’t call security?”

“I did when I woke up,” Joaquin replied, “I didn’t know she meant to disappear,” he said, eyes blank, voice steady. “I thought she'd calm down, like always.”

Prince Ramil matched the story with his version, “She never told me anything, I was drunk and sleeping in my room and I woke up to grandpa throwing a fit.” he shrugged.

They believed him. Or maybe they didn’t.

There was no hard evidence to contradict the various interviews. No surveillance footage, no recordings. Half the palace staff had heard the screaming match in the private salon the night before; the shouting, the smashed glass, the moment the princess had run to her quarters and how Joaquin had followed her, like he had done for the last seven years. The palace staff and security, especially the princesses’ handmaiden Asha had vouched for the fact that Joaquin had saved the princess from harm all these years, and he was always loyal to the crown and would do nothing to ruin its reputation.

Every shred of evidence worked in Joaquin’s favor.

The palace dropped the case on the condition that Joaquin be dismissed from royal service for “negligence in duty.” They made him sign a non-disclosure order and stripped him of honors.

But they didn’t know that the detectives were right; He had helped her get free.

---/---/---/------/----

One Year Later || Monaco Grand Prix

The spring sun high on the track as viewers settled on the podium, energetic and ecstatic to see their favorite cars race through the city of Monaco. Down by the pit lanes, cameras clicked furiously as reporters jostled for position, all hoping to catch the perfect candid shot of racers and crew.

But today’s buzz wasn’t just about the race… it was because every team was set to unveil their newest backup racer, and the media was in a frenzy; eager to break the news, snap exclusive photos, and flood social media with the first glimpse of the rising stars.

Joaquin sat stiffly in the VIP box, his cap pulled low, sunglasses shadowing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. He was trying to look relaxed, but even Sam, lounging next to him in a rumpled polo and chewing on a toothpick, wasn’t buying the act. Sam suddenly leaned forward halfway casually scanning the box, then froze.

“Bro…” he nudged Joaquin with his elbow, trying to stay subtle but failing, “Look at the guy in front of us!”

Joaquin didn’t react, “okay?”

Sam hissed louder, “I saw him at a gala once. That guy owns, like, every skyscraper in Singapore. You know those condos with swimming pools in the sky? When Prince Ramil said he’d get us the best seats, I didn’t think he meant billionaire-adjacent.”

Joaquin smirked faintly. “There are perks to working for a prince, Sam.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah? Shame you got fired.”

“Wow. Thanks for that?” Joaquin glanced at him, deadpan.

Sam shrugged, grinning. “Just saying.” But the smile slipped from his face when he noticed Joaquin’s focus return to the LED jumbotron above the pit lane. “You look tense,” Sam muttered. “Like you’re the one about to go zero to two hundred.”

Joaquin didn’t answer him, only shrugged. There was a reason Prince Ramil sent Sam on a ‘laid back vacation’ with a plus one ticket to the freaking Grand Prix… he hoped to see a familiar face. His fingers tapped on his bicep, his eyes narrowed slightly, watching as a glossy video montage played on the massive screen highlighting reels of roaring engines, close-up helmet shots, and dramatic overhead drone views of the circuit. The announcer’s voice came through, polished and booming over the sound system.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Introducing the reserve drivers making their Grand Prix debut!”

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Graphic cards began appearing; each with the name and stat line of a new driver, their teams and accolades proudly displayed. Sam was mid-sip of his drink when the next name came up—and he nearly choked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the newest backup driver for Team Mercedes... a former princess who earned her name burning rubber on the streets of underground drag circuits…”

Joaquin’s stomach dropped.

Sam blinked at him. “Wait. Did they just say—?”

The announcer’s voice rang out again, louder this time, over the rising noise of the crowd.

“You know her as the Drift Princess—but from this day forward, she answers to her own name. Give it up for Y/N Y/L/N.”

The screen cut to a live feed of the pit area. A figure in a black-and-silver racing suit, hands gloved, wearing a black helmet… she turned slowly toward the camera, her long braid swinging over one shoulder. Then, she raised her helmet just enough to reveal her face.

Her expression lit with the mischief of someone who knew they were rewriting their story, right in front of the world, she waved to the crowd as her fellow racers clapped and cheered for her.

Princess Y/N. Not a ghost, not a runaway. She was alive, and grander than ever.

Joaquin felt something snap loose in his chest; like a wire pulled too tight for too long had finally given way. The world around him that was deafening loud and electric, seemed to fall away into silence as his breath left him in one slow, shaky exhale, trembling through his ribs like a secret he couldn’t keep any longer. It was like watching a dream he never allowed himself to have walk into the light.

Y/n, his y/n.

Not the girl in glittering gowns upholding impossible expectations, not the princess the world had tried to box in on her responsibilities. But the version he’d always seen since he first bowed to her; the one who was stubborn with fire in her eyes and unshakable determination, the one who breathed freedom like it was oxygen, the one who once cried into his shoulder and told him she didn’t want to die.

Joaquin’s heart clenched, painfully, he didn’t know if it was pride or grief or longing.

All of it, maybe.

The crowd clapped and whooped, but he didn’t hear them. All he could see was the glint in her eye and the fire in her smile. She did it… she did what she swore she would become.

Sam turned to him slowly, slack-jawed. “Holy. Shit.”

But Joaquin wasn’t listening anymore, his eyes were fixed on his beloved.

---/---/---

Joaquin didn’t wait for clearance. He’d spent too many years memorizing the flow of high-profile security rounds and the way they rotated the shifts.

So, when the noise of celebration roared around him as the match ended, he walked past the pit crew and to the garage like he belonged there. No one questioned him, no one gave him a second look. After weaving through people bustling around and press running to racers trying to get an interview, he found the main area where the cars were parked, his eyes frantically searching for her amongst the sea of mechanics, crew and racers.

A flash of hot pink caught his eye, and like a magnet being pulled to metal, he followed it.

Y/n was there, wearing a black and hot pink leather jacket. talking to a young girl holding a mic to her, her eyes sparkling as she expressed how happy she is to be a part of team Mercedes. Her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied back in a messy bun that looked like it had been through a storm and stayed standing anyway, her smile didn’t falter at all. She hugged the girl when the interview was over, while she was smitten watching y/n glowing in her form. She was a force untamed, who was finally free from all expectations.

Joaquin breathed as her eyes locked on his, a hand on his heart just to check if this was real, or just another one of his dreams in which he met her to be close enough and then wake up just before he could touch her.

Y/n froze, her eyes widening as she registered who was standing in front of her. For one aching second, she didn’t move, only looked at Joquin with shock and disbelief. And then she sprinted, laughing, “JOAQUIN!”

She ran full-speed at him with no hesitation and no care for who watched her or what anyone thought. Joaquin barely had any time to snap out of his trance and brace himself before she collided into him and jumped into his arms, laughing.

He caught her effortlessly, holding her tight as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders like he always had. “You’re here,” she whispered into his neck, shaking with joy. “You found me.” His heart thundered, his mind going foggy while he struggled to put his feelings into words. Instead, he held her tighter, grounding himself in the feel of her body against his, her laughter vibrating his chest.

“You did it, princess.” he finally said, trying to keep his voice steady, his eyes stinging despite the laugh bubbling in his chest.

Y/n pulled back just enough to see his face, her hands cradling his cheeks. Her thumbs brushed under his eyes, over his cheeks, his slight stubble, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe he was really standing in front of her.

“How did you…?” he asked, unable to finish the question, his voice cracked halfway through.

She stepped back with a lopsided grin, “Prince Idris helped me. After he abdicated, he helped me stay under the radar while I trained.” She held his hand, “Besides, a few of the F1 engineers knew me from the underground scene. It didn’t take much convincing; a couple races, a lot of sweat, and boom… Team Mercedes.”

“You just… walked into Mercedes and asked to join?” he said, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“I made a deal to stay in secret until today,” she laughed. “Turns out being a former princess with a crazy past has some advantages.”

"Tavreshi Royals will loose their minds over today." he breathed hard.

"I couldn't care less." she shrugged.

Joaquin shook his head, smiling despite himself, as he caressed her hand. There was a pause between them, the kind that wrapped arounds your soul like a slow exhale. The noise of the crowd outside still echoed beyond the doors, and they caught a few eyes of the crew inside, but here, right now, it was just them. His eyes softened as he looked at her; the laughter in her eyes, the fire in her soul. She was exactly who she was always meant to be.

His eyes dropped to her collarbone, where nestled against her throat, was a glint of pale pink. His breath hitched, “You kept it,” he whispered.

y/n smiled, the kind that twisted his insides, “Yes, Joaquin,” she said quietly, her fingers brushing over the pendant. “I still wear the necklace my love gave me.”

He let out a soft laugh in awe of what she just said, “You’re unbelievable.”

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, “You softie,” she whispered.

“Only for you,” he whispered back.

She stepped in closer, arms sliding around his waist. Her voice dropped, filled with a different kind of ache, “You think it was worth it? All that we gave up for this moment?”

He didn’t hesitate, “Every second.”

“Me too.” She whispered, caressing his jaw.

This time, when she kissed him, it wasn’t rushed or panicked or desperate. It was soft and slow with the weight of everything they never said. The years of what-ifs all poured into one kiss that tasted like sweet relief.

When they finally pulled away, she held his face, teary-eyed, “I love you, Soldier Boy.”

He smiled, eyes shining, “I love you too… Princess.” He pulled her into his chest, arms locked around her like a promise.

The End

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My Joaquin Torres Masterlist

My Masterlist

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I added all the blogs who were in my previous Joaquin torress fic and the blogs that reblogged and commented on the sneak peek, if you want to be removed or added in future fics pls let me know <3

@feed-into-my-delusions || @mystickittytaco || @savedfanfics1992 || @ballorawan740 || @bcystar || @mixedfandxms || @prvtt-khadijjj

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @samwilson-mylove @jenniweaslee-faves @anna-phora @giona45-5 @lieutenantchaos

@summersblogsthings @supportourgoddesses @iamthebeth @bvckys-doll @obxfan2854 @sugar-crisps @yikesdameron @rawecreek @fluffyprettykitty @dance-is-life27 @breezyez777 @davinashifts333

[artisiumstudios]

I need angst, I need 19 year old Stan and ford timestuck au where they meets their mid 20year old counterparts (a bit before the betrayal and ford hits rock bottom).

Now I have so many ways this could work:

1) Stan and ford (teens) end up getting stuck together and get stuck with Stanford, which leads to both fords having a lot of emotions. Stan looks sick, his baby fat is not quite gone but compared to ford it’s like he’s aged years despite him being 19 and the same age as his twin who still looks full of life. He sees Stan and ford as a child and the guilt that he tried to hide behind anger and betrayal is starting to peak out once more. His twins younger self is covered in new scars and his compared to the loud mouthed brother who always spoke his mind at any given time without any thought of consequences is now eerily quiet, always hanging in the background, trying to make himself small, trying to disappear.

Paranoia oozes out of Stan with every twitch and flinch at the slightest sound, and while not super obvious, he can tell that while ford has gained an inch or so, his body still maturing into one of an adult, Stan — well he isn’t. And while he is hunching Stanford knows that one inch difference should have never happened. Ford is almost the same noticing as much as Stanford except that that guilt comes crashing harder because that’s HIS twin brother looking absolutely miserable, exhaustion etched onto his skin. And the worst part for ford is that Stanley keeps avoiding him (well he avoids both fords but Stan and him are in the same situation so why can’t Stanley just stop his avoidance for one second? Be mature about this! Let ford make sure he’s okay-).

And meanwhile Stan feels super happy that Stanford got himself a good place and that even thought Stanley ruined his life he still made something of himself! Even if it was without him. Because pa was right, everyone was and Stan was only holding ford back

And also for a little curveball Stan thinks his older counterpart is dead. He’s 19 barely scrapping by, he lives in his car, gangs are coming after him, and Stanford hasn’t mentioned anything about his Stanley, and when asked where his Stanley was he had this far away look as he shamefully said I don’t know. That was enough confirmation for him to know that he wouldn’t make past 30.

(He does indeed freak out when Stanley shows up still alive and looking worse for wear)

2)The Classic Stanford gets Stan and Stanley get ford. Except ford is there for the aftermath of either the Tijuana incident, the trunk incident, or the kidney incident. Either or but basically he saved Stanley and comes to the realization that his own twin’s future could be like this. That he could lose or have lost Stan without knowing. The fact that HE saved this Stanley and that if not for him this ford would have lost his brother and possibly have never of known. It sickens him and he makes it his personal mission to get home, rebuild his relationship with Stan if possible, and save his brother no matter what.

Stanley meanwhile is trying to fix his “mistake” (ford shouldn’t have seen that, he should have never known-) and is pampering the shit out of ford, stealing whatever he can for his little brother (?) , which caused more tensions because Stanley is the one hurt not ford! He needs to rest not be trying to shoplift his favorite snacks, books, etc!!!

On the other end of things Stanford still had the same realization from the first idea (minus the height thing but he does take into account that Stan is severely malnourished) and does try to pamper and connect with him. Does it backfire on him? Yes. Does Stan feel like he doesn’t deserve it? Yes. Does Stan lash out because clearly ford is doing it out of guilt? Yes. Is there drama where Stan ends up running away because ford reveals that the dream of sailing was never going to happen, especially not with Stan suffocating him!

(Some dialogue I thought for it.

“Stan, that’s not what I meant to say-“

“You think I’m suffocating?”

“No- well, yes I did but that doesn’t-“

“Is that why- that’s why you wanted to leave me. I’m suffocating, a burden-“

“Stan you’re not a burde-“

“YES I AM- IM THE EXTRA STAN, THE DUMB STAN, THE STAN THAT NOBODY WANTS-“

“STAN YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND-“

“Oh i understand, i might be stupid but i understand this, you don’t want me, nobody does. All my life I’ve been nothing but a burden to you, all I’ve ever done is ride on your coattails. It’s just like Pa said. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Stan what are you-“

*restraints Stanford in some way idk *

“You don’t have to help me anymore, it’s not like I’m worth much”

*runs away* )

3) Stanley and Stanford are the ones to get stranded in time thanks to Stanford doing some magical stuff that had the twins connected and sent to the past. Idk too much about this one but it could be fun. Especially if Stanford accidentally gets drunk trying to help Stan and reveals stuff about bill only for Stan to clock his shit and be like “yeah no you’re getting scammed bro. Played like a cheap kazoo”

Meanwhile Stanley is idk doing drag, perhaps going through withdrawal symptoms from lack of “flour”. Maybe some mental issues? Who knows, ford sure doesn’t!

[turtiowo]

Now I’m going to talk a little about my 'Everything Went Wrong AU.' SVSSS

▪︎Shen Yuan is an orphan. He becomes Shen Jiu’s disciple at a young age. He’s the senior brother to all the other disciples.

▪︎At first, Shen Yuan doesn’t have a surname. Shen Jiu gives him the surname 'Shen,' which causes quite a stir and surprise among the other elders.

▪︎Shen Yuan initially sees Shen Jiu as just a villain, but over time, he warms up to him. He genuinely starts wanting to save him.

▪︎Before Binghe shows up, Shen Jiu is strict and cold, but overall, he’s rational.

▪︎Shen Yuan becomes Shen Jiu’s favorite disciple — of course, a must-have in this AU. However, Shen Yuan doesn’t really realize how much Shen Jiu loves him because for a long time, he interprets Shen Jiu as a womanizing villain. He thinks their good relationship comes from years of shared effort. And while that does play a big part, Shen Jiu starts to truly love Shen Yuan for being who he is — for genuinely caring about him.

▪︎As soon as Binghe appears, Shen Yuan shows curiosity and interest in him. Shen Jiu instantly notices that Shen Yuan looks at Binghe differently from others, and for that reason alone, Shen Jiu immediately hates Binghe.

▪︎Binghe seeks Shen Yuan’s affection and protection, always wanting to stay close to him. Shen Yuan treats Binghe more favorably because, in his eyes, Binghe is the main character. This slowly drives Shen Jiu mad.

▪︎Of course, Binghe realizes Shen Jiu hates him, but there’s nothing he can do about it at that point since he’s still weak. Shen Jiu, on the other hand, can’t actually harm Binghe because he doesn’t want to look bad in Shen Yuan’s eyes. Instead, Shen Jiu does everything he can to prevent Shen Yuan from meeting with Binghe, especially giving Binghe the hardest tasks. Shen Yuan always tries to help Binghe somehow.

▪︎Binghe always believes that Shen Yuan cares most about Shen Jiu.

▪︎When Binghe’s demonic identity is revealed, Shen Jiu secretly feels relieved because now he has a reason to kill him. He thinks Shen Yuan wouldn’t love a demon anyway. But when Shen Yuan jumps into the abyss after Binghe, Shen Jiu experiences the shock and betrayal of his life. He completely snaps.

▪︎Later on, Binghe starts to believe that as long as Shen Jiu is alive, Shen Yuan will never love him. So, without Shen Yuan knowing (or so he thought), Binghe wants to kill Shen Jiu (the demonic sword is influencing him).

▪︎Shen Yuan realizes this and takes precautions. As soon as he escapes the abyss, he goes straight to Shen Jiu. This is when that scene I drew happens — the one where Shen Jiu bites Shen Yuan’s lip.

▪︎Shen Yuan proposes a marriage contract to Shen Jiu. (For those who don’t know, in some xianxia settings, cultivators can bind their lives together through a marriage contract — if one dies, so does the other.) Shen Yuan thinks that even if it’s just because of the contract, Binghe won’t be able to kill Shen Jiu.

▪︎Shen Jiu is overjoyed by this contract. In the end, he decides that Shen Yuan is his and that Shen Yuan will stay with him.

▪︎When Binghe finds out about Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu’s marriage contract, he is completely devastated. This is where the other scene I drew of Binghe takes place.

▪︎In this AU, Shen Yuan sees Binghe more like a younger brother. His feelings for Shen Jiu are much more complicated.

▪︎There’s also a scene where Shen Yuan sees Shen Jiu’s childhood and hugs him tightly in the room where Shen Jiu had been locked away.

That’s all I’m writing for now, because I’m feeling too lazy to continue at the moment.

[brotherwtf]

Can we get more clegan bikeriders or bucky × benny???

there's so much bikeriders content honestly!! we are eating good anyway go read @johnslittlespoon tough and sweet and @hogans-heroes bike riders x mota crossover because they're both big brained and their fics are perfect

adding my little ideas with an au where Gale is in a biker gang who frequents this one diner John works at, a "family friendly" place with red and white stripes, the type of place you wouldn't expect someone like Gale to frequent except he has a silly little school girl crush on one of the waiters

and of course heads are going to turn when a man who's Harley is rumbling loudly outside walks in with his leathers on and a deep scowl on his face, and yet all he does is move right to the bar and park right there, waiting to get John's attention so he can quietly order a coke

of course John being the guy™ he is always tries to make Gales coke a float, asks if he wants to add a little sweetness to it with a wiggle of his eyebrows because he LOVES to see this tough looking biker blush a little bit when he intentionally brushes their fingers together

John loves it because Gale tries to act all tough, he rides in a gang after all, but he doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, and he's downright smitten with John and John knows it, he just wants to play cat and mouse a little bit because he loves seeing Gale all smitten

and of course John would follow Gale outside to his bike and ask for a ride, come on, Buck, just one ride, please? and Gale can't even imagine denying him so he allows John to sit on the back of his bike and when John orders him to pull over he does, at which point John makes a big show of grabbing the front of Gales jacket and kissing the hell out of him, good shit good shit

need me some tough looking Gale that's just absolutely in love with the big fool John

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 25th

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1. I’m looking for a fic - it’s post canon and two chapters. In the first chapter - the juniors talk about how Wei wuxian is attractive especially after he got soaked saving them. The second chapter has a maid sneaking into his room and the whole troop barges in to save him. @misscrazytastemaker

FOUND? 🔒 A Lure and Catches not Intended by mondengel (T, 3k, WangXian, WIP, Humor)

~*~

2. Hello—

Looking for a modern fic where lwj chases off any male that shows interest wwx & all their friends assume they are together. But then it comes out that they are not together, or wwx is a virgin?

FOUND? envy by quillifer (E, 5k, WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, A/B/O, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Modern, College/University, Misunderstandings, Jealousy)

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3. Alrighty, I got another request and I can't seem to find it. Wei Ying offers Lan Zhan a heart as a courting gift and Lan Zhan, horrified by the heart and not knowing it was a courting gift, drops it. Not knowing that it signifies rejection at the harshest level. Wei Ying is devastated and ignores Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan has no idea what he has done. It ends with a happy ending. @marietsy40-blog

~*~

4. Hi! I’m looking for a specific fic that I’m kind of shocked I can’t find by myself. It’s a vampire au where lwj is a vampire prince that picks wwx as a companion. The setup is that the vampires go around to different villages and see everyone of a certain age, and the day lwj comes is wwx’s birthday so it seemed like it’d be unlikely he’d be picked. But then he is! I thought the word they used was “blood singer” but couldn’t find it just on ao3 :/ also checked “vampire au” but to no avail.

FOUND? red likes roses, red like blood by bubble_t (lokwacious) (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, Dark LWJ, Vampire, Royalty, Mild Blood, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Morally Questionable LWJ, Shameless Smut, Everyday is everyday)

~*~

5. Hello!

I'm searching for a fic where yllz!Wei Wuxian teaches kids how to read& write by writing on mud while their mothers are washing their clothes in the river. I think it leads to wwx being a real teacher to them? I read it last year but can't find it again.

Thank you for your help! @kaptainkoalaoshiz

FOUND? Just as the Snow Meltsby draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Mojo’s bookmark)

~*~

6. hi. Can you help me find a fic where Wei ying is old omega wolf from different clan. It’s like hunger game style but they all finding mates. And alpha lan zhan from different clan found wei ying on top of the mountain. Not sure if they’re both wolves or not.

~*~

7. Can you help me find a fic where

• Each pack/clan sends one alpha and one omega into a forest,

• Omegas go first and run,

• Alphas follow a day later to find their mates,

• All shapeshifters are the same animal species (not necessarily wolves), I don’t remember

• It’s a pack-based hunting ritual or competition for soulmates/mates,

• Modern setting, WangXian characters.

Thank you so much

~*~

8. Hi again, little by little I remember past fics. Tnx for always finding them :)

So this fic is about little wwx who grew up alone and not with any sect. I remember him mastering demonic cultivation and then solving the nie saber issue while nie mingjue's father was alive thus creating a good relationship with them. Nobody knows him tho except ppl whom he helped before. And lwj heard of him but nie huasang never told him that he knew him personally or that they were friends. I'm not sure but it might be time travel considering the events of the fic @raven-hale

FOUND? Practical Mythology by metisket (T, 17k, WangXian, Time Travel, YLLZ WWX, myths and legends, apparently the burial mounds has to fix everything itself, zombie farm collective, accidental deities, Families of Choice)

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9. Hii I'm looking for a fic where it's A/B/O and alpha Lan Zhan and Omega Wei Ying are gonna share Wei Ying Heat and Lan Qiren has Lan Zhan locked in the hospital and it almost kills Wei Ying due to it looking like Lan Zhan didn't want to be with him and Lan Qiren saw Wei Ying coming to the hospital due to it

It's a one shot and is canon dynamic

~*~

10. Hi! I'm looking for a fic in AO3. It was an Among Us AU but I can't seem to find it in the tag. It was where both Wangxian were the alpha imposters/alien monsters but normally there is only one alpha that can be on a ship at a time. They skirt around each other not sure if they have one of their kind there but the signs are there. In the end, LWJ wifes up WWX and they eat everyone in the ship. It had a horroresque vibe to it. I've been looking so hard for it but I can't seem to find it. Thanks a bunch if you do! @theninziparadox

FOUND? Two Alphas, One Ship by fenaly (E, 6k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, A/B/O, Bitching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-consensual sex, Non-Consensual Bitching, Aliens, Non-Human Genitalia, Blood and Gore, Murder Husbands, Feminizing genitalia terms, Among Us AU, Sci-Fi, Explicit Smut, Tentacles, Shapeshifting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Monsterfucking, Violence, Alpha/Alpha becomes Alpha/Omega, Breeding Kink) might not be this one but it's somewhat similar

~*~

11. Hii mods!! It's my first time submitting for someone else, so i will just put here what they writed word by word:

"Hi, I need help finding a fic I read a few months ago. It’s an MDZS fic where JZX and JYL don’t die, but WWX still dies and then is resurrected via MXY. WWX, JC, JZX and LWJ go to follow the ghost hand tgt and JC knows about the Phoenix Mountain kiss, cuz LWJ got drunk and told him about it, so he forces LWJ to tell WWX the truth. That’s all I can remember pls pls help me find it I’ve been looking for weeks 😭😭(I just want JZX and WWX to be brothers in law 😭😭 they’re hilarious in every fic where they’re frienemies)"

Hope someone can find it. As always thank u in advance!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

~*~

12. Hi, me again. i wanted to find the fic where Jiang cheng is owns bakery shop and mia mian wrks for him but wen chao wanted revenge thus kidnapping Jc. lan xichen is a judge, lan wanji a lawyer and wei ying a detective that has put wen behind the bar.here they torture jc for 7 days something like that.. pls help me @jiangcheng1709

~*~

13. Hello, my lovely! This is my very first ask, it's a long shot: Is it possible to find such a fic, in which Wei Ying is pregnant with Lan Zhan's baby. And they (the whole clan) are under attack (by another clan, not sure exactly who). Wei Ying wants to carry on fighting with Lan Zhan side by side, but Lan Zhan desperately doesn't want him to, because he's carrying their baby. I don't know how it ends. I'm really sorry for such a vague description, please help pretty! Thank you so much! @kalevala568b

~*~

14. Okay so I found this fic sometime between 2020-2022 (incomplete at the time) and it was an arranged marriage between Wangxian but Wei Wuxian had to wear the silver mask the whole time for an unknown reason (although it’s heavily hinted Lan Wangji is cursed by something). Lan Wangji is very cold to him during their marriage and then takes Wen Qing as a concubine (although not because he likes her but because he needs her medical skills without anyone asking questions). Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that though and runs off meeting A-Yuan’s parents and living with them for a while. It’s implied that when Lan Wangji finds him he think Wei Wuxian fathered A-Yuan with the mother (he didn’t) which Wen Chao mocks him about during the Indoctrination. They kiss in the Xuanwu Cave and LWJ calls WWX ‘airen’. But then his chest starts hurting and he calls out for Wen Qing - WWX misunderstands.

WWX sends a baby A-Yuan and Jingyi to Cloud Recesses before the Sunshot Campaign to keep them safe and has them adopted under the Lan Family name.

Later on WQ mentions something about a “vine” to do with LWJ’s curse. After WWX does demonic cultivation, the Qishan Wens are taken in by Cloud Recesses as long as WWX agrees to have the resentful energy purified. WWX knows that this will kill him since the resentful energy is keeping his Burial Mounds’ wounds from reopening but goes through with it because he wants the Wens to be safe and he thinks Cloud Recesses want him dead anyway. His mask falls off mid-cleansing and he collapses coughing blood.

When he wakes up, the Jiang family including Madame Yu are pissed at Cloud Recesses for nearly killing him and have begun divorce proceedings. WWX doesn’t want to get divorced by LWJ does. But because A-Yuan and Jingyi are on the Lan family register WWX is furious he can’t take them with him.

The fic hadn’t updated after that the last time I read it. I read it before 2023 so it would have been started before then. It was implied LWJ did love WAX but because of some curses (that weren’t fully disclosed at that point) he couldn’t commit to their relationship.

~*~

15. Looking for a fic I read pre-2023. Complete.

Lan Wangji hears that the Lan elders are trying to arrange a marriage for him but then he suddenly turns into a fox. Everyone thinks he’s cursed because (I think his mother) tells everyone it can only be broken when finds his true love.

So the Lan Clan calls in various people but no one seems to be able to break it. The WWX shows up and immediately starts teasing Fox!ji. He works out immediately that LWJ isn’t cursed, he’s a fox shifter and is refusing to turn back to avoid having to get married. LWJ later finds out that WWX is also a fox shifter after chasing an unknown black fox away.

LXC sees the two foxes and then panics because what if LWJ’s true love is a fox. So he starts trying to shove human Wei Wuxian at LWJ because he’s the only person he’s seen Fox!Ji tolerate.

LWJ does eventually turn back into a human for WWX and I’m pretty sure they banged afterwards. LXC was thrilled when he saw LWJ back to being a human.

FOUND?🔒 A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 33k, wangxian, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Everyone Lives, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign, No Yīn Iron, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, LXC is a good brother!, He tries so hard!!, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting, wangxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, but no actual CNC/rape play occurs in this fic. It’s only discussed. there is also discussions of monster fucking but no actual monster fucking)

~*~

16. i'm looking for a fic about wei ying getting cursed by the lan olders by being a perfect lan while lan zhan is away. The cursed is broken when jiang cheng uses lan sizhui as bait. Anyone know what is fic is called?

FOUND? Perfect to Me by theearlymorningmist (T, 12k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, JL & WWX, JC & WWX, Protective LWJ, Good Uncle LQR, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Location: Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan Elders Bashing, Curses, WWX is Loved, protect wei ying squad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Nephew JL, Protective JL)

~*~

17. hello! i am looking for a fic where wen qing (after circumstances i cant remember) travels back in time, and eventually realizes she's travelled back MUCH further in time than she thought. she's there to see the great clans form (i think wen mao or lan an or both mightve been in the fic?) and eventually she decides to retreat from society and live on a mountain. the end of the fic is the realization that she is baoshan sanren, as she catches up to her present and sees cangse come and go. thank you! @summerwoodsmoke

FOUND? The Immortal Wen Qing by Nillegible (G, 1k, Time Travel, Canon Compliant)

~*~

18. Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read where after WWX and LWJ move back to Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren leaves some students with WWX to supervise temporarily while he finds a teacher for them. When Lan Qiren takes too long, WWX ends up teaching them by taking them to practice wind (I think) talismans by having a snowball fight. When Lan Qiren realises that WWX has been teaching the students the whole time he freaks out but when he sees WWX help the youngest kid he decides to offer WWX a permanent job as a teacher.

FOUND? 🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff) (various podfics available)

~*~

19. You’re doing incredible work! Hope you can help me :D

I read a fic back in like 2021 and for the life of me I can’t seem to find it again. Its wasn’t complete at the time so I’d love to know if it is now!

It’s post canon and Wangxian are living at Cloud Recesses happily. Then someone breaks into WWX’s workshop - where the Lan Clan gave him permission to work on some of his stuff - but nothing seems to have been taken. WWX is quite touched that even Lan Qiren seems pretty upset on his behalf. There’s a few more weird incidents including WWX finding a paper left for him that’s dosed with some kind of drug (he catches it though and doesn’t get affected).

Later on, he’s talking to LXC (I think) and gets a brief glimpse of a financial report and finds out that all of his inventions are so good that he essentially brought in a fortune to the Lan Clan that could even rival the Jin Clan by this point.

WWX realises that someone might be targeting him rather than his work so he decides to disguise himself as a Lan disciple and investigate. His disguise is so good that when he leaves the jingshi, Lan Sizhui briefly points a sword at him because he doesn’t recognise him for a moment. WWX then goes to one of LWJ’s meetings/classes (can’t remember exactly what) and after everyone leaves, the two get very flirty with one another. Someone walks in and then quickly leaves but it’s implied that they don’t recognise WWX either.

Because then a rumour seems to go around that LWJ is secretly seeing another disciple. WWX did bump into someone while disguised who was acting very weird but didn’t confirm whether or not that was who was after him.

I’d love to find this fic again!

~*~

20. for fic finder

it was a series w/ immortal wangxian in modern era

started out with lwj going to uni (to be a vet if i remember right) and becoming the campus heartthrob

main pov is an OC whos friends with an OC Yu character

JC runs a car company @whatifijustnifeyou

ridiculous future bullshit by sami (M, 190k, WangXian, WQ/JC/LXC, WWX & LSZ, LSZ/Other, JYL/OMC, Future Fic, in theory it follows on from an au specifically, The Same Moon Shines Series, the rewriting of history, if the past was different the future is different, But still ridiculous, Humour, the evolution of fashion, immortals through history, LWJ visits other cultures and judges them, Modern AU, a centuries-long game of telephone, best boy LSZ, Pride Parades, Cats, the legend of WQ, Academia, Border Crossings, biosecurity, Paperwork, Family, Parents and Children, Uncles and nephews, the mortifying ordeal of your family seeing how you really live, Social Media, Chaos Gremlin WWX, University, outsider pov, Movie Stars, Fluff, Weddings, Adventures) original poster is looking for this series. The first story with LWJ going to University is part 25 "Lan Zhan's University Days (JAFFY)". Jiang Cheng and the car company is scattered throughout the series.

~*~

[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

Use Me | JHS (ft. MYG)

*Pairing: boyfriend's best friend!Hoseok x f!Reader (ft. sub!boyfriend!Yoongi)

*Word Count: 3.5k

*Genre: there's some plot in this one! but... mostly pwp, "watch me while he fucks me," non-idol au, explicit smut

*Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI. this one has a very targeted audience, if you ain't into cuck fetish, maybe keep scrolling. degradation, humiliation, fingering, anal sex, use of the names 'whore,' 'princess,' 'baby,' 'doll,' 'sweet girl' directed at reader, use of 'good boy' directed at yoongi, hoseok is (still) so mean y'all (but also... his dom persona begins to slip here...), yoongi's into watching (sorry not sorry), unprotected anal sex (be smart, ya perverts!), oral (m receiving), masturbation (m), praise kink, face slapping, a bunch more disgusting shit...

*Summary: Once again, Yoongi requests to watch you with his best friend, and you agree. But this time... you're determined to completely humiliate him.

*A/N: this is a continuation of Watch Me! so if you haven't read that part, maybe read it first before you read this one. I am so sorry for this in advance. it is pure filth, absolutely disgusting, and also slightly experimental for me since i've never written this type of scene before. the tiny trash gremlin that lies dormant in my brain woke up today and welp... enjoy. 😅

Main Masterlist

Weeks later, you find yourself sitting at a bar booth, with both Yoongi and Hoseok, with Hoseok’s fingers dangerously close to your panties underneath your dress.

You sip your drink, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers trailing along the hem of your black lace thong. You glance at Yoongi, who’s clearly oblivious to the scene taking place under the table in front of him.

“You seem stressed lately,” you say to Hoseok offhandedly, as if Yoongi hadn’t just told you as much the other day.

Hoseok takes his shot and downs it in one gulp, glancing at you. “Yeah. Work’s just.. killing me lately.”

You tilt your head, encouraging him to elaborate.

He swallows before saying, “I haven’t had a second to fucking breathe in the last two weeks. Trying to meet this deadline, but..” He trails off, clearly annoyed.

You look at Yoongi again, who’s listening intently to Hoseok, knowing he doesn’t open up about his feelings often. You place your hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, gripping it gently, in a way that would only seem supportive to an outsider, but he knows it’s anything but. He looks at you with slightly-darkened eyes, sliding his fingers ever so slowly underneath your panties.

“Use me,” you say out loud.

Yoongi swallows the sip of his whiskey he’s just taken, eyes widening. Hoseok, on the other hand, just chuckles darkly, not saying a word.

“Use me,” you repeat, “to relieve some of that stress.”

Hoseok drags his fingers over your clit, and all you can do to not whine out loud is to bite your lip, all while looking right at Yoongi.

Yoongi downs his own shot before breathing out, “fuck,” now fully aware of what’s going on right in front of him.

You hardly make it through your front door before Hoseok’s hand wraps around your throat from behind. You pause, smirking at Yoongi as he watches, gulping visibly.

“Little.. fucking.. brat,” Hoseok breathes out into your ear, his chest now pressed fully against your back. “You think you can just pull something like that and get away with it?”

You say nothing, knowing it’s not actually a question. Your heart beats fast in your chest, betraying how you feel.

“Yoongi, didn’t I tell you last time that you needed to teach her some fucking manners?” Hoseok asks over your shoulder.

You glance sideways at Hoseok before muttering, “You did, huh?”

Hoseok’s grip on your throat tightens slightly, before he walks you forward, leading you into your bedroom. Yoongi follows somewhat timidly behind him, shutting the door as he enters the room.

“Guess fucking her isn’t the only thing I’m gonna have to do for you, is it?” Hoseok breathes out menacingly to Yoongi.

You whine, and all Hoseok does in response is push your knees against the bed before releasing your throat, moving his hand to wrap in your hair and push you down, bending you over the mattress.

You watch as Yoongi climbs onto the bed, sitting to the side, where he knows he belongs.

Hoseok all but yanks your dress up over your hips, leaving it resting there as he covers your ass cheek with one palm, rubbing it soothingly. Without warning, he lands a firm smack on your ass, making you yelp.

“Hoseok,” you gasp, body shaking from the contact.

He just chuckles darkly as he says, “That’s for teasing me in public.”

He lands a second smack on your other ass cheek, and you wince, but the shiver that spreads through you gives you away.

“Hmm. Dumb little whore likes punishment, yeah?” he breathes out. “That one was for being so mean to poor Yoongi, making him watch you like this.”

Yoongi groans, his fingers gripping the bed sheet next to him.

Hoseok pulls you back up by your hair, turning you around to face him. He has a good six inches on you in height, so he tugs the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing you to look at him.

“Tell him, doll. Tell him exactly what I do to you,” Hoseok says, looking down at you before releasing your hair.

You suck in a breath before looking straight at Yoongi and saying, “He makes me wanna do dirty things that I would never do with you.”

Yoongi bites his lip, gripping the sheet even tighter as he listens. Hoseok chuckles, loving the effect he has on you, but loving the way Yoongi reacts even more.

Hoseok turns you around again, his strong arm wrapped around your middle, holding you in place against his chest. He places hot kisses on your neck, nipping at the skin there, wanting you to fall apart for him the way you always do.

You keep your eyes on Yoongi, watching the way his eyes glaze over as he rakes them over your body, watching closely.

“Princess..” Yoongi breathes out, “you know what I want, right?”

Hoseok just chuckles, his teeth sinking into your shoulder before he pulls away and pulls your dress over your head, leaving you in just that flimsy piece of lace fabric that barely poses as underwear.

“Does it matter what you want, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks offhandedly, his hand slipping into the top of your panties, fingers immediately finding your clit.

You gasp at the contact, eyes still not leaving Yoongi. Yoongi sucks in a breath before murmuring, “I.. guess not.”

Hoseok grips your breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whimper softly, knees slowly turning to jelly under his touch.

“All that matters is that I get to fuck your girl in ways she would never imagine letting you touch her. Isn’t that right, doll?” Hoseok says, a hint of menace lacing his voice.

“Hoseokie… please,” you breathe out.

He snickers. “Pretty little thing, already begging.”

Yoongi groans, and it’s clear that he’s already turned on just from watching his best friend rubbing your clit under your panties. He can’t even see much of anything, but just knowing what Hoseok is doing to you, turning you into putty in his hands, is enough for his breathing to become labored and his blood flow to rush southward.

Hoseok pulls his fingers out of your panties, wiping his fingers on your stomach before suddenly ripping the thin string of fabric holding your thong together. The fabric falls to the ground at your feet, leaving you naked in front of both men.

He turns you around to face him again before pushing your shoulders down. You drop to your knees on the floor in front of him, already knowing what he’s asking for. He unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side and undoing his jeans before stripping them and his boxers off, his cock springing up, dangerously close to your face already.

“Open up, doll,” he says with a cocky smirk, gripping his cock to drag the head across your lips. You listen, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to lick the precum off his tip. He hisses before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail and shoving his cock into your mouth.

You can hear Yoongi groaning from his spot on the bed, and you smirk around Hoseok’s cock before getting to work.

You place your hands behind your back, holding your wrists together as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. Hoseok thrusts deep, almost hitting the back of your throat each time. Tears form in your eyes from the pressure, but you don’t stop him. You swirl your tongue around him, tracing the vein on the underside as you take him.

Hoseok notices your eyes welling up with tears, and gives you that subtle look of his that asks if you’re okay. You whimper around his cock, gazing up at him with big eyes, telling him yes, you’re more than okay. He smirks again before continuing his thrusts, his dancer hips put to work with each movement.

“Fuck. Look at her, Yoongi. Taking my cock down her throat. That perfect fucking mouth,” Hoseok groans, his cocky smirk shot right at Yoongi this time. 

Yoongi whines this time. He’s uncomfortable, shifting in his spot on the bed, trying to get some sort of friction to help ease the discomfort of his erection.

Hoseok pulls out of your mouth suddenly, chest heaving as he calms himself. “I’m not fucking done with you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with a knowing grin.

He grabs you by the hair, pulling you up to standing. Hoseok gazes at you, small smirk playing at his lips. “What do you say we really give him a show this time, doll?”

You tilt your head, curious, but smirk anyway. “Yeah. I said things I’d never let him do, right?”

Yoongi sits with wide eyes, waiting impatiently, still so uncomfortable.

Hoseok steps closer to you, his dominant facade slipping for just a second. He traces his finger over your jawline, stopping at your chin to tilt your face up to look at him.

“Yoongi talks, you know?” he says offhandedly.

You crease your brows, confused.

“Always telling me how much he loves your ass,” he continues with a smirk.

Your eyes widen, and you hear Yoongi audibly gulp from behind you. 

“Sad that I’ll get to see how you feel before he does,” Hoseok chuckles.

You pause. Your knees buckle slightly, your breathing slows as you realize what he’s suggesting.

Then, you laugh. It’s dark, almost.. diabolical. You look at Hoseok with a bratty expression before turning to Yoongi.

“Such a shame, hmm, Yoon? Knowing your best friend is about to experience something I’d never let you do?”

Yoongi whimpers. It’s pathetic, really, how easily he slips into the role of the desperate, submissive boyfriend. And you enjoy it. Enjoy his fear, enjoy knowing the power you hold over him in moments like these. But, even more, you enjoy knowing how much he loves it.

Hoseok pushes you onto the bed next to Yoongi, pressing your face into the mattress as he always does. You turn your head, resting your cheek so that you face Yoongi directly. He swallows audibly again, reaching out to brush your hair from your face in a silent show of reassurance.

Hoseok pulls you up by your hips, positioning you how he wants you. You hear the clicking of a cap, feel the cold sensation of a squirt of lube landing on your ass, before feeling his fingers move downward, slowly prepping you. He leans over you, back pressed against your chest, before kissing your jawline, to whisper in your ear.

“You sure you’re okay with this, sweet girl?” he asks, his dominance slipping again.

You nod, focusing on nothing but relaxing your body to make this easier on everyone. He kisses your jawline again, softly, almost.. sweetly, before effortlessly slipping back into that dominant persona that you love.

You glance at Yoongi yet again, biting your lip to hold back a smirk as you watch him struggle. Hoseok’s fingers slowly trail lower, teasing your rim. You whimper, tensing slightly at the unfamiliar feeling.

Yoongi groans. He steadies his breathing, before getting out, “Baby.. fuck, please.. gotta relax for him.”

Hoseok slowly, carefully, presses his finger into you. He takes his time, making sure you’re comfortable. His other hand grips your hip, the pressure of his fingers almost bruising. He moves his hand to your lower back, rubbing it soothingly to relax you further. His finger stretches your hole more, until he’s knuckle-deep inside your ass. You let out another whimper, this time from pleasure as you adjust to the feeling. He begins thrusting his finger, crooking it slightly, as his other hand moves to your pussy. He rubs two fingers over your clit, needing you to relax, to be ready for him.

“How’s it feel, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks with a chuckle.

You hear Yoongi whine from beside you, and you look up at him. He breathes out, “Huh?”

Hoseok smirks before continuing. “How’s it feel seeing me like this, fingering your girl’s pretty little ass?”

Yoongi lets out a strangled whimper at his question. That’s all the response that Hoseok needs to be spurred on even more.

He rubs your clit more deliberately, slowly adding a second finger to your tight hole. You gasp, the pleasure almost consuming you at this point. Once he thinks you’re properly prepped, he stops moving his fingers and leans down to whisper in your ear again.

“Ready for my cock, sweet girl?”

You whine, nodding. But that isn’t enough for him.

Hoseok slaps your cheek, lightly, but hard enough to get your attention.

“Use your words, doll. Tell me you want my cock in this perfect ass of yours.”

Yoongi’s breathing becomes heavier, and you can tell he’s painfully hard at this point just by looking at him. His face is flushed red, tiny droplets of sweat bead his hairline, and he grips the sheet beside him so hard his knuckles are white.

“Please, Hoseokie…” you whine for the second time that night. “Want your cock.”

Hoseok chuckles, gripping your hair, his fingers still knuckle-deep in your ass.

“Where do you want my cock, doll?” he snarks.

You take a breath, knowing he isn’t going to let you cum without telling him what he wants to hear.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you finally get out, feeling humiliation seeping through you. Hoseok chuckles darkly, menacingly.

“Good fucking girl,” he says, his voice dropping to a low growl. You almost whimper at his tone, but what actually results in a whimper is the loss of his fingers inside you.

You hear the cap of the lube bottle clicking again as Hoseok coats his cock with the gel, and you look over at Yoongi again.

“You’re gonna be a good boy for me again, right, Yoon?” you ask him teasingly.

Yoongi bites his lip, nodding eagerly.

“Touch yourself. Wanna see you get off watching your best friend fuck me like this,” you say, a playful smirk on your lips.

Yoongi groans but wastes no time in getting his pants and boxers off. His cock is angry red, pulsing visibly, leaking precum. “Fuck. Need you to relax, princess. So fucking sexy like this,” he breathes out, his hand already gripping his cock.

Hoseok teases your hole with his tip, making you suck in a gasp. He holds your hips and pushes into you, gently. Now, Hoseok isn’t normally one to be gentle in any sense of the word, but he knows the time and place. And this? This is the time to be gentle. He lets out a groan as he slowly pushes his cock in further, stopping occasionally to let you adjust and make sure he isn’t hurting you.

“Fuck… your ass was made for my cock, huh?” he says through gritted teeth. All you can do is whimper in agreement, watching as Yoongi strokes himself.

After what feels like ages, Hoseok bottoms out inside you. You breathe deeply, making sure you’re fully relaxed. He taps your outer thigh to get your attention, giving you that subtle look he has that asks for confirmation again, and you nod.

Hoseok begins to move, his thrusts shallow at first. One hand leaves your hip to snake around to your front, his fingers finding your clit again with ease. He circles the sensitive bud, and you whine, the extra pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, Hoseok…” you gasp out, and you hear Yoongi groan from beside you once again. 

Hoseok inserts two fingers into your pussy, collecting your juices before going back to your clit. He chuckles once again. “Pretty little thing.. you love this, don’t you?”

You glance over at Yoongi. He’s lost in the throes of his own pleasure, cock firmly grasped in his fist, watching your every move, Hoseok’s every move. He bites his lip, twisting his wrist, bringing himself closer to his release. But you can’t have that, can you?

“Yoongi, stop,” you tell him, and he snaps his eyes toward you, fear overtaking his expression. He slows his movements, but doesn’t stop completely.

“I– what?” he asks desperately, a pathetic little pout on his lips.

“I said, stop.” Your emphasis on the word for the second time brings his hand to a stop, and he whines before releasing his cock from his hand.

Hoseok chuckles darkly at this, his thrusts picking up speed slightly. He continues rubbing your clit, his cock fully sheathed in your ass with each snap of his hips. He’s getting close- you can tell just by the change in his breathing patterns; they’re more erratic, more uncontrolled.

“Hoseokie,” you whimper out, your own pleasure building.

“Yeah, doll? What do you need?” he asks, that humiliating tone evident in his voice once again.

You gasp as he hits a particular spot inside you, your orgasm threatening to wash over you.

“Please… please, Hoseokie. Let me cum.”

Yoongi is paralyzed, watching you with bated breath, hands clenched together. His cock drips precum, and he nearly cums just from hearing you beg his best friend for your release.

Hoseok snickers. “Alright, doll. Cum for me. Bet it’ll be better than any orgasm he’s ever given you anyway.”

The band in your lower stomach snaps, and you cry out, pleasure spreading through your entire body. Your body collapses further into the mattress, but Hoseok grips your hip to steady you, knowing a sudden movement like that would be anything but pleasurable.

Hoseok’s hips stutter, and he grits out, “Gonna cum in this perfect ass.” He groans as his own release hits him, burying his cock deep inside you, gripping your hip with bruising intensity.

Yoongi whimpers again, the scene before him pure torture. He rests his head in his hands, takes deep breaths to calm himself, anything to take his mind off how much he’s aching for release. He can’t believe you were so mean to him, to tease him by allowing him to jerk off to you and Hoseok, only to actually stop him before he could cum.

Hoseok takes his time pulling out of you, gently massaging your hip to take your mind off the discomfort. You collapse fully onto the bed now, Hoseok on your other side, both of you practically gasping to catch your breath.

You look over at Yoongi, chuckling through gasped breaths. “Poor baby,” you taunt him, and he looks up from his hands, pouting again.

“Get up and go take care of that,” Hoseok orders him, gesturing for Yoongi to go to the bathroom. You and Hoseok both snicker, knowing just how badly you’ve thoroughly wrecked Yoongi without even touching him. Yoongi glares at Hoseok, but there’s no real malice there. He looks to you for approval.

“Go ahead. Be a good boy.. think about me while you’re fixing your little… problem,” you chuckle. You watch as Yoongi practically races to the bathroom, shutting the door with a hard slam behind him.

Hoseok glances over at you, his dominant mask completely gone now.

“Sweet girl.. are you okay? What can I do for you?”

You just look at him, unsure how to respond.

“That was a lot. You need aftercare, doll. Let me help, please,” he continues.

You don’t say anything at first, reluctant to cross any boundaries. Being fucked by Yoongi’s best friend is one thing, but allowing him to take care of you after a session? Completely different.

Yoongi exits the bathroom then, interrupting your conversation, effectively getting you off the hook for a response. He joins you on your other side, pulling the blankets over the three of you wordlessly. It’s quiet, the air still charged from what just went down. Minutes of silence pass, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s.. peaceful, almost.

“You two… are fucking evil,” Yoongi points out then.

You and Hoseok burst out laughing, and once again, Yoongi just pouts.

“Sorry, Yoongi. Couldn’t help myself,” Hoseok chimes in with a smirk.

With an eye roll, Yoongi sighs before saying, “Don’t get used to it.”

But little does Yoongi know, Hoseok is already used to it. He’s been a willing third party in your sex life for months, and somewhere along the way, the line between ‘just fun’ and feelings became blurred for him. It’s wrong, he knows that. But he doesn’t care; he won’t stop agreeing to your requests for his presence in your and Yoongi’s bedroom, won’t stop letting himself fall a little further every time he makes you cum at Yoongi’s request.

And you?

Well, you are just enjoying this punishing hold you have on both of these men. You know how Hoseok feels. It’s become obvious in the way that his tone has become softer, his hold on you a little gentler each time he fucks you into Yoongi’s mattress. But, just like Hoseok, you don’t care; you won’t stop asking him to join you when you know Yoongi needs just a little something extra, won’t stop letting Hoseok fall harder every time he pretends to treat you like shit in the bedroom to hide his true feelings.

Because, above all else, you only want what’s best for yourself. And what’s best for yourself is to have Yoongi and Hoseok wrapped around your finger, willing to do whatever you ask for.

Because you can’t get hurt if you hurt them first.

[icwasher]

Okay, but imagine a BBC Merlin time travel AU where both Merlin and Arthur get sent back, but neither one of them knows that the other one got sent back so they're both trying to change things while also not arousing suspicions. And, in true BBC Merlin fashion, they don't find out for the longest time. And I think they would get sent back at, like, the beginning of season two, that way Merlin and Arthur's dynamic is already established, meaning both of them don't want to do anything to change that and arouse the other's suspicions.

And you would think that one of them would notice, but every time Merlin does something suspicious/different, Arthur just thinks, "Oh, he's probably doing a magic thing that I didn't catch last time." And whenever Arthur does something different/suspicious, Merlin's just like, "Ah, my actions are having a butterfly effect. Good."

You've got two people trying to keep Morgana from turning evil. Arthur is telling her that things will be different when he's King, while Merlin is trying to relate to her more. Arthur automatically knows who to trust and who not to trust, and when Merlin points those things out, he actually listens. Arthur is always in the know. Uther has no idea what's going on. Merlin is out here doing ALL THE THINGS with his magic, and Arthur doesn't even notice. And neither of them can tell when the other is lying because both of them are such idiots. Somehow, Arthur ends up in mortal danger just as often as he did last time.

But it's not just silly-goofy-fun-and-games. There is so much angst. The whole time, Merlin is missing his Arthur, the one who died, and he thinks that he's never going to have that Arthur again. Plus, he knows this time that, if he fails, Arthur will die, and so there's a whole other level of pressure there.

Arthur, on the other hand, doesn't want to put Merlin through all of the trauma that he faced before. He feels responsible for making Merlin feel unable to share his secrets with him, and also knows that he will be causing Merlin unimaginable grief if he fails, which he does not want to do. Again.

But the whole thing is mostly hijinks. Because the show is mostly hijinks.

[littleewhitelotus]

HI SAW YOUR REQUEST I'M GOING INSANE, I WANT YOUR TAKE ON REVERSE SVSSS WHERE SQH & SY ARE DEMONS AND MBJ & LBH ARE THE CULTIVATORS PLEASE IF YOU'RE UP FOR IT 🥺

HIII you know I LOVE your ideas and there is literally so much going through my head right now for this AU you don't even know!!!!

Ice Prince Shang Qinghua and Bestial Demonic Overlord Shen Qingqiu

Rogue (travelling) cultivator Luo Binghe and Huan Hua Palace young master Mobei-Jun.

LIKE OUGH! imagine binghe with a similar backstory to his canonical one, except after the washer woman's death, he gets found by his travelling cultivator father and his cousin and gets taught cultivation. They eventually have a falling out (insert either the most stupid or the most angsty reason imaginable) and Binghe goes out on his own. He decides to mimic his dad's personality for ease with dealing with customers. He has been on the hunt for years for an elusive remnant of the race of Heavenly Demons And then MBJ! Where the original HHPM (in this case I guess linguang jun?) drops kid MBJ off in between a bunch of demons, and when MBJ manages to fight them off he uses this to kill his uncle and gain power of HHP. Because of the fact that his uncle pretended to like him, MBJ hates people who put on acts (yes I need MBJ and LBH to hate each other for funny reasons lol) and hates demons. And dont get me started on SQQ. Imagine Shen Yuan wakes up one day as an eldritch horror and has since then been masquerading as a demon. He honestly just wants to explore the world of PIDW and it's monsters, but meanwhile he accidentally forms an empire and a harem ("I was just providing shelter! And everyone is so nice..."). While he has been good at holding a humanoid form, fingers and toes are still tricky, so he has kept his tentacles. At the very last SQH, who woke up one day in the middle of a very familiar northern desert after dying and was shocked. what surprised him even more than being transmigrated, was that everyone viewed him as royalty?? so he puts on an act of being an incredibly nervous (is indeed very nervous) and incompetent leader but knows everyone in both realms and manages to dodge each and every assassination attempt. And the worst thing?? he hates the cold.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I saw tbat you are willing to do httyd prompts

A httyd/bnha where Izuku has a night fury (I can never find any good fics like this that doesn’t have bakudeku it’s killing me!!)

Izuku found the egg when he was around five years old. He hadn't known it was an egg, not until the little dragon hatched from it. Izuku thought it was a rock, even as he was oddly drawn to care for it. The small black dragon had bitten Izuku's hand, though it had no teeth, and Izuku felt a sort of connection.

"A familiar Quirk," the doctors said. "Happens, a child born with the ability to form a bond with an animal. Some Quirks even do have mythological beings become their familiars."

"How did no one catch this before now?" Inko asked, watching as her son played with the little dragon.

"Old age. Some of the older generation of doctors can't fathom the idea of what they were taught being wrong, and if he showed no signs until his familiar was with him, it makes sense." was the general response.

Izuku and his Dragon, named Toothy for the fact that he liked to bite people without his teeth, more of a joke than anything, but he liked it so it stuck, were very inseparable. Inko secured government funding to relocate to a nice, little neighbourhood with a house and yard, allowing Toothy to roam around freely. It was offered to anyone whose Quirk required the extra room. Inko had money to buy a house, but the funding helped get one in a safer neighbourhood.

It was odd for both of them, since the move also resulted in a change of schools and friend groups. Inko had been confused why Izuku didn't have any of his friends come see him off, until Izuku admitted most of them had become mean when his Quirk didn't show up. It was heartbreaking. Especially as Izuku admitted that Katsuki was one of the worst.

Inko herself came to a very uncomfortable realization as well once they moved, discovering that she got along with their new neighbours much better than her old friend Mitsuki. She didn't have to constantly manage their emotions or behaviours, nor did she get touched without her permission. The looks on Inko's new friends' faces when they learned how Mitsuki used to physically force Inko to do things, and how sometimes hands lingered, were eye-opening.

Izuku went to a new school where he made friends with a little boy who had just recently moved to Mustafa, a Sero Hanta. The two were very good friends and spent their days roaming the neighbourhoods with Toothy following behind.

The Midoriya family became very grateful for the move when Toothy grew big enough for Izuku to ride; the dragon wouldn't have been able to fit into their old apartment.

Izuku dreamed of heroics and begged to be able to apply for a Quirk Gym to train with Toothy after turning ten. Inko decided to pick up a second job beyond her romance novels to afford it, where she met a young, handsome man. His name was Yamada Hizashi, and he was quite charming.

Of course, then Izuku outed him as Present Mic when he asked Inko out, but she didn't mind. He was really young, but she decided, what the heck.

She didn't regret it a bit.

-

"Ready?" Izuku asked his friend as they stood in front of UA.

Toothy wrabbled, smiling his gummy smile.

"Alright, let's fly!" Izuku cheered.

He was going to be a hero.

-

I then ran out of steam, plus not, sure where to actually end it sooo notes on the AU:

-Mitsuki did have a crush on Inko and kind of took advantage of the fact Inko's to nice to say no. She never touched anywhere inappropriate but she didn't really ask if she could either.

-Inko and Hizashi are a very cute couple. Inko's a widower at this time as well.

-Izuku and Hanta are best friends. They're also menaces to Izuku's Uncle Shouta, whom Hanta has coerced into helping with parkour for years.

-Izuku gets in of course, and is reunited with Bakugou who is a boy left wildly unchecked. He sees Izuku as a whim and loser, more so for his moving away. Bakugou says Izuku stole Auntie Inko, Izuku says 'it's my mom and your mother drove her away' which causes a fight.

-Bakugou is moved to 1B and Monoma taken to 1A.

As he grows older, Izuku discovers other aspects of his Quirk that he never got to explore, such as fire resistance and durability.

-Hanta is very straight, so no SeroDeku, but he's also the king of wingmen for Izuku, who has a terrible crush on someone. TBD.

-Inko and Hizashi are together and debating about getting married. After the USJ, when Shouta is out of the hospital, Inko drags Shouta, Hizashi, Nemuri, some of Inko's friends, and Izuku to the courthouse to get it done because heroics is a dangerous job.

-Izuku gets the flame sword.

[red5cars]

been a minute since i talked about a hybrid!au so bringing back service pup reader x jack abbot

tags: dog-hybrid!reader, heats, fingering, p-in-v, just soft sleepy sex

warm.

that’s the only word his sleep-addled brain can muster, “warm”.

an unusual feeling considering he keeps the house fairly cool, leaning into how comfortable his life is if he ignores all the thundering thoughts in his brain.

he opens one eye, not expecting to be met back with two, half-lidded and glassy.

it’s pretty normal to wake up with you on top of him, your weight grounding, breaching his subconscious and pulling him out from the night terrors. what’s not normal is the way you grind your hips onto his thigh.

thankfully, this isn’t an isolated incident.

both eyes open now, he greets you with a lazy smile, one of his hands settling on your back, “well this definitely beats an alarm clock,” he mumbles, other hand coming up to the pet the spot between your ears. a quiet huff leaves your lips, leaning more towards satisfaction than annoyance.

with a grunt, he moves his hands, urging you to lift your hips as he adjusts himself underneath you. when he brings your body back down, your legs straddle him, stray fur from your tail tickling the inside of his thighs.

jack hums, smoothing a hand over your ass, “heat came a little earlier than we planned,” and you nod, speech harder during the beginning of your heats. he can only tut in sympathy, “poor baby.. been like this for a hot minute, yeah?”

while words may have left you, your judgement hasn’t as you roll your eyes, giving him a look that says get on with it.

and he’s more than happy to.

the hand on your rump slides into your panties, already dripping so much slick he’s surprised there wasn’t any on his thigh. he strokes two fingers over the hole, slipping in easy as they push inside.

your lips part, quiet moan sounded out against his chest. he does his best to listen, to feel you out. noting what makes your breath hitch or what has pushing back against his hand. brings the hand on your head down to grab one of your cheeks, pulling and spreading your whole even wider around his fingers.

he continues to tease you like that, taking his time. sometimes, he’ll even pull his fingers out, using two more to rub over your hole, earning a soft whine from you.

after a few more thrusts of his digits you come, frenching his fingers as you clench. your breathing is heavy, the rise of your chest pushing against his own. he’ll never get used to seeing you like this, savoring it all like it’s the first time.

sliding his fingers out of you results with you whimpering, and jack can’t help but chuckle. his (dry) hand comes back to rest on your hand, ruffling your hair before pinching your cheek, “greedy girl,” he admonished fondly, pushing a finger between your lips. sharp canines poke at his flesh, even piercing against it in hopes to pierce him. it’s satisfying, but the way your eyes go out of focus for a minute bests that.

removing his hand from your face, he uses both to give you what you need. takes him a good minute to work down his boxers, sleep still wrapped around his bones. you being on top of him doesn’t help either, but he’ll never complain about any of that.

if he were a few years younger his cock would spring up, hitting you right against your folds. shame what time does, jack having to give himself a few extra pumps before he’s ready.

slowly, he eases you down onto his cock, watching you wince from the intrusion. it strokes his ego, even if he knows it’s more about your sensitivity then his size. someone like you is meant to take something bigger.

it’s in his dresser for later.

the whole time you sink down, you nudge your face further against his chest. it’s like you’re trying to bury yourself inside him, chasing that warm feeling, pulling on the cords of his heart till you’re tied up in them, wrapped around like some organic shibari.

he’s wide awake the moment your ass is flat on his hips, taking in lungfuls of his scent. the two of you stay like that, for a minute, the only noise your deep breathing. after a couple of clicks, you’re moving.

jack watches you take what you’re owed, his own breathing picking up and he’s hardly doing anything. the way you move is just so exhilarating, any smart comments leaving him because he’s too focused on you bouncing on your cock.

in place of those comments is praise, murmurs of “good girl” make your tail wag and your hips move even faster.

isn’t long before you cum, the telltale signs like you’re jaw clenching and eyebrows furrowing letting jack know. his arms wrap around you just as you do, lifting his hips to kiss that gummy spot inside you while you meet him with a rough slam of your hips.

your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you come down, your breath hot as it hits jack’s shirt.

his hold loosens, rearranging his hands so they’re rubbing your sides now. “better?” he asks, bit breathless from you bouncing on his cock.

you find your voice, nodding as you mumble a quick “yes,” emphasized by the slow wag of your tail.

he can only smile, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “‘m glad,” it’s spoken into your hairline, the intimacy leading you towards a more syrupy headspace.

without fully pulling you off his cock, he tugs you a little closer, holding you tight while resting his chin on your head.

“let’s take a quick power nap before the next round, okay?” he’s met with a quiet mmf which sounds like an “okay” to jack.

[syndrossi]

Pushing my Rhaella/Jace agenda because it has firmly lodged itself in my mind and I can't think about anything else.

I feel like if Jace courted her he would want to do it by the book and give her like a perfect fairytale courtship. Since Jace is not a teenage girl, and has virtually no idea how to court a teenage girl, I think that he's going to be going to Rhaenyra for advice a lot. Rhaenyra has lots of experience with bad suitors, so she'll definitely be able to tell him what not to do, but in all honesty I don't remember her having a single suitor (other than Daemon) who she genuinely liked. I guess she could tell him to do some of what Daemon did (rare, expensive gifts, and dragon races) but most of his "courtship strategies" were... unorthodox, to say the least. (see: the brothel incident.) Poor Jace is going to need to seek advice from Laenor (who is not interested in women), Viserys (who will have no advice because he's king and most people in the realm just do whatever he says), or Daemon (who's "advice" will amount to "harm my daughter and I maim you".) He could maybe ask Corlys, but it's not clear how often they see each other, and Rhaenys basically chose him so I don't think he'd have much good advice either. So the entirety of the advice he gets amounts to "give her pretty things and fly with her."

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) Jace has access to both the Crown's vaults, and Driftmark's, so he'll have no shortage of pretty things to give Rhaella. The result ends up being that Rhaella now has so many priceless jewels and trinkets that she's running out of room for all of them, which is slightly overwhelming, but Jace is always so nervous when he gives her something new, and his smile is so sweet when she says she likes it, that she doesn't want to tell him to slow down a little. (also, pretty things! yay!)

Also, I'm not sure this needs clarification, but this is for the Rhaella-as-the-boys-triplet AU. I just realized that I forgot to say that.

Awww, all Jace really needs is to be sweet to her; she's lived a life before of having a vast array of jewels, but none of that mattered when she was trying to cover up the bruises. But I'm cackling at all the conflicting/overlapping advice he'd be getting. Here's my take:

Rhaenyra: Don't act as though he's doing her a favor by courting her. Seek to understand her, and give her things that she would like. Failing that, most girls like jewelry.

Laenor: Wear tight-fitting trousers in her presence and win her over with daring deeds in the yard/tourney, dedicating those victories to her.

Viserys: (probably just offers to make a formal betrothal as head of House Targaryen)

Daemon: Obviously there are threats here, but if Daemon is being charitable, he might share some of the things you mentioned that he's done in the past (rare gifts, dragonriding, etc).

Corlys: Travel to a distant land and bring back something unique that no other girl would possess.

[mjldx7]

okay so, this is an AU where Shen Yuan first transmigrated as Shen Jiu as a child. Even with his adult knowledge though the system made him go through all of the originals backstory stuff. Living on the streets, the Qiu Manor, Demonic Cultivation, everything. He follows in the original goods footsteps to say the least, but, during that qi deviation where svsss starts. Shen Yuan ends up losing all those memories of his time as Shen Jiu, only remembering his first life as Shen Yuan. So, svsss plot happens, all the way up to the sower incident in jinlang city. Which is where our story starts. (Trigger warnings, some unpleasant topics relating to Shen Jiu's past in the Qiu Manor are brought up, don't read if you feel like it might make you uncomfortable)

...

'-shit! Why of all times did Without-a-Cure have to act up! Could it not have waited until I wasn't getting chased by Luo fucking Binghe!?! Who, mind you shouldn’t even be out of the abyss for another two years!'

[HOST IS ALWAYS WELCOME TO ENACT A SCENARIO PUSHER ☆\(•v<)/☆]

'Oh fuck you system! Yes, do the damn scenario pusher! Why couldn't you offer that sooner!?!'

"Shizun"

Shen Yuan was not expecting that the scenario pusher would cause him to fall through the roof of an apothecary shop. Nor did he expect to crash into a box of bright pink powder and make it explode all over him. System why!?

Shen Yuan could see Luo Binghe jumping down from the rooftops he was just chasing him on and approaching the shop, but Shen Yuan's head was spinning. His body didn't seem to want to listen to him.

All he could see before he blacked out was the figure of a man in front of him, not one that was his white lotus, no, one man that felt so disgustingly familiar. And Shen Yuan Jiu felt terrified of what he saw.

...

"qi-ge, why?? Why wouldn't you come back for me!?-"

"Well of course a brat like you would take well to demonic cultivation, after all-"

"A-Luo! A-Lou! No, No! A-Jiu why-"

"You'll come back for me?"

"I promise."

All Shen Yuan Jiu could hear where screams. His head felt as if it was splitting open. All around him he could see scenes that felt too familiar. He could feel everyhing in each memory he saw. The whips, the stray dogs, the qi deviations, that man touching him... He was in agony, he couldn't tell what was real or fake. He felt angry but at the same time he couldn't feel at all, why-

[CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! IMPORTANT THINGS MUST BE SAID THREE TIMES!]

System! Why-

[HOST HAS UNLOCKED PAST MEMORIES, +500 B POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO HOST'S ACCOUNT! A NEW MISSION HAS BEEN UNLOCKED ,/(>v<)/*]

But these aren't my memories! They can't be, they're the original's-

[THESE ARE VERY MUCH HOST'S OWN MEMORIES, HOST ONLY JUST GOT THEM BACK AND HE IS SO UNGRATEFUL. THIS SYSTEM THOUGHT HOST SEEMED SO HAPPY HAVING THEM GONE. (^-^?)]

But-

[EITHER WAY! THIS SYSTEM THOUGHT HOST SEEMED TOO HAPPY HAVING HIS MEMORIES GONE. AFTER ALL, THE ☆PLOT☆ MUST CONTINUE WITH A GOOD STORY! AND WHAT MAKES A BETTER STORY THEN HOST'S NEW MISSION?]

["YOUR HEARTS BEEN BROKEN, SO LET ME HELP YOU PIECE IT BACK TOGETHER." COMPLETION OF THIS MISSION WILL RESULT IN ??? ADDITIONAL B-POINTS AND A MYSTERY ITEM! FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION. DOES HOST ACCECPT?]

[YES/NO]

...

When Luo Binghe was chasing after his Shizun, he was not expecting his Shizun to fall through a roof. He was also not expecting his Shizun to fall into Past Consuming Lily Pollen. He was still angry of course with his Shizun running away from him, but this caused some concern to spark up even behind Xin Mo's influence.

Shizun never seemed to remember his past after that qi deviation when Luo Binghe was 14, and even then, he was cruel before it. If the pollen caused his Shizun to remember how he had acted beforehand, it could cause some problems...

...

Shen Qingqiu felt cold upon waking up. He was scared to truly open his eyes but he couldn't tell why. But, he opened his eyes none the less, and screamed.

...

Luo Binghe could tell when his shizun had woken up by the sound of him screaming. A sound that he truly never thought he would hear from his Shizun. He could see Shen Qingqiu looking around the room in a panic. He could hear the uneven breaths coming from his master's body and practically smell the fear rolling off him.

He saw his Shizun stand up from where he had fallen terrified. But, he wasn't terrified of Luo Binghe? It was as if he was seeing something no one else could. Something so terrifying that he couldn't see anything else.

Shen Qingqiu was muttering something that only a madman could ever understand. Luo Binghe could only make out bits and pieces, but none of it made sense. It hurt to see his Shizun seemingly go mad at something that Luo Binghe couldn't protect him from.

(TO BE CONTINUED) fr this time I swear