#How To Save Marriage Quotes

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[fraugwinska]

I had some fun with the 'Incorrect Quotes generator and these are my headcanons:

Reader: You saved me! Why? Alastor: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

Alastor: Can I ask you for a favor? Reader: I would literally die for you, but continue. Alastor: We need to talk about you starting sentences that way.

Angel: Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held. Reader: Are you okay?

Alastor: I made tea. Reader: I don't want tea. Alastor: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea. Reader: Then why did you tell me? Alastor: It's a conversation starter. Reader: It's a horrible conversation starter. Alastor: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Alastor: Wow, Reader, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you. Reader: We literally slept together yesterday. Alastor: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

[holylulusworld]

Loophole (1)

Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Roo's Mini Mafia Bingo: Square filled: Grew up in the mob

Summary: You are looking for a loophole to escape your arranged marriage.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, hand around throat (non-sexual), power imbalance, arranged marriage, mafia au, grey/dark Steve

“How long will you take this time to prepare for the party?” Your husband barks from outside the bathroom. He was never the patient kind of man when it came to you.

Steve, just like you and everyone you know, grew up in the mob. Gentleness and kindness are not part of your relationship. It’s strictly a business arrangement. This bond serves to fortify your father's empire.

He grows impatient when you do not answer him immediately. “You know, I hate being fashionably late. My mother doesn’t like it either.”

“I’m not coming,” you answer shortly. No explanation. No reason why. You just state the plain fact that you won’t join your husband at one of his mother’s infamous parties.

It’s not her fault. Not completely. Just like everyone else in his family, she didn’t welcome you with open arms and warmth.

Being one part of an arranged marriage doesn’t make you a family member or even someone they like. She tried to include you, though.

You always joined your husband and tried to join every event with him to build a connection, a bond. That was until he told you a few weeks back that he hates it when you accompany him at parties and events.

According to your husband, you always act like a jealous bitch. In other words, he cannot openly flirt with any woman at his mother’s parties. – As if you could ever stop a man like Steve from doing whatever he wants to do.

“What do you mean? You almost cling to me wherever we go, and now you don’t want to come to my mother’s party?” He scoffs, believing you’re playing one of your little games to get his attention. “Get out and get dressed.”

“I said,” you say and walk out of the bathroom, wearing a tiny towel, not an expensive gown as expected, “I won’t come this time. I already called your mother, excusing myself.”

“What kind of game are you playing today, Y/N? I don’t have the time nor the patience for your nonsense.” Steve grits his teeth. He searches your face, waiting for the façade to drop. “Get dressed!”

“You said,” you make air quotes. “You hate it when I accompany you to events. I don’t want to ruin your happiness or mood. So, from now on, I won’t come with you to events or parties. I’ll stay at home.”

Steve frowns. Something seems to be off with you. “How come?” He simply asks. There’s no compassion or worry in his eyes. “You are a sucker for parties.”

He really doesn’t know you at all. Socializing is a daily struggle for you. Leaving the safety of your home is never easy, but you did it for him. “I told you, I don’t want to be a burden.” You shrug and turn toward the walk-in wardrobe. “Think about all the money you will save when I do not need new clothes for parties.”

“This is not a game,” you quip and drop the towel, ignoring your husband. He was never shy around you, either. Your sex life is nothing to complain about. It’s the only time you and Steve are on the same side. “I just don’t want to spend time with you when I’m unwanted.”

“You just can’t help yourself and have to make things complicated all the damn time.” He’s already on the edge when you turn around, a blank expression on your face.

“Steve, I swear this is not a game nor my attempt to make things complicated.” The truth is you are done trying. Your best friend’s words still echo in your mind.

Know your worth. Do not sell yourself short. If Rogers wants to keep his wife, he has to work hard for her attention. Loki said it and meant it.

“I want you to be happy, Steve. If my absence makes you happy,” you shrug and walk inside the walk-in wardrobe, “I will stay away from any party and event from now on. Go ahead and have fun. I won’t be waiting for you tonight.”

Steve squares his jaw. He still believes you are playing games. You’re too good at it. Maybe you’re not a leader of the mob, but you have your ways to get what you want.

“Y/N, I’m warning you one last time.” Steve follows you inside the walk-in wardrobe. His large hand wraps around your neck, slamming you into the wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you obedient. “I won’t attend the party without you. You’ll get dressed, smile, and look pretty, or else…”

“Or else?” You cough when he finally releases your throat. Rubbing the sore skin, you look at Steve. He has never gotten physical with you before. Steve is a little hot-headed, but it usually only leads to hate sex or make-up sex. This is new, and you don’t like it. “Do you want to beat me into submission only because I wanted to fulfill your wish?”

He looks you up and down, eyes glued to the tattoo inked in your chest. His crest, along with his name. A branding to show off ownership. “You’re mine, and I won’t let you parade around town, claiming your husband doesn’t take you out.”

Steve grabs your jaw, eyes icy blue orbs, as he claims your lips. “Now get dressed. I’ll give you twenty minutes to look presentable, or you will go naked.”

He storms out of the wardrobe, angrily slamming the door shut behind him. You flinch. For the first time since you married Steve, you are afraid of him…

Part 2

[lemurchick]

Another 'wonderful news' from Russia for your consideration! This week, the BRICS forum on traditional values took place in Moscow. And it was fucking insane.

In short, the opening meeting was BRICS countries representatives verbally jerking off on how well they oppress or plan to oppress their people especially women. The only person who bothered to contradict this narrative was Egyptian female writer Doha Mustafa Assy.

I will translate some quotes from the russian article. https://www.kommersant.ru/doc/7311174

Russia: "At some point the roles for women have begun to change towards independence and self-sufficiency. We, of course, love and respect our women very much, but we want them to pay more attention to their families, men and children. We do not want them to strive for business, politics, economics, power, or culture. <...> The main traditional value is the preservation of natural purpose, where a woman continues the family line and a man inspires her to give birth to children."

Pakistan: "Any traditional religion upholds and promotes social values and traditions. No father would want to harm his family. No mother would want to break up or disintegrate her family. This <rejection of family values> is deliberately imposed on us and promoted by some power circles”

Ethiopia: "In our country it is traditionally women who do the cooking, teaching children and other family duties. So the man's role is not as big as the woman's, and this tradition gives the man the freedom to behave like a child." (?????)

Uganda: [This country experience is “extremely important to the discussion of legislative protection of religious values,” emphasized russian politician Dmitry Kuznetsov, referring to the fact that in Uganda same-sex relations are prohibited, and in some cases violators face life imprisonment or even the death penalty.] “We did this to make sure that the country would be preserved. I would encourage countries to behave in such a way that the culture that exists in each country is not imposed on others.” btw Brazil and South Africa representatives didn't say a word here even though their countries legalized same-sex mafrriage years ago.

Brazil: "Marriage in no longer a goal for our citizens and the country has the highest divorce rate in history. Meanwhile, children are most often left with their mothers, with fathers unwilling to take part in their upbringing. As a result, many Brazilian boys are growing up without a father figure and 9% of male inmates in prisons don't even know their father's name. Shifting the balance in favor of women leads to the fact that the position of feminism is growing, and the number of people who identify as LGBT people is growing.” At the end of his speech, he marveled, “This is my first time in Russia, and I didn't know you guys were so conservative. I'm so happy, it's so impressive!” He also admitted that “the people of Brazil know nothing about Russia,” and Dmitry Kuznetsov promised: “We will come to you and tell you all about our saving conservatism.”

Egypt: As I mentioned in the beginning the only person who actively argued against this trend was Doha Mustafa Assy. She said: "We on the contrary has a struggle against patriarchy. Tradition and religion are not on women's side, they help men. A lot of women in Egypt ask for divorce only because they feel like slaves at home. He (the husband) has the right not to let her leave the house according to tradition. BRICS is India, it's China, it's Russia, it's Egypt. We are very different. And maybe what you are trying to do in Russia has already became a problem for us”.

To be honest I don't know what will come out of this forum. Maybe it's just empty posturing, maybe BRICS countries just sent people who had free time on their hand here as a formality. But I despair reading these quotes; twenty years ago we sent a singing duet posing as lesbians to Eurovision; ten years ago I was watching lesbian drama Blue Is the Warmest Colour in a full theater. Soviet Union gave women some attempt in an equal rights in fucking 1917 and we were the first country to send a woman in space. What happened? How has it turned this way? We are now friends with some of the most patriarchal countries in the world and with fucking North Korea. They are planning to remove the Taliban's terrorist status.

What the hell.

[purpleunicornc]

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

“𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀?”

𝘿𝙖𝙮 5: 𝙉𝙤 𝙉𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙋𝙤𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙮

@azrielappreciationweek

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ art by @luxury_banshee

✮♱✮ commissioned by me

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

It’s no secret that I keep @luxury_banshee in my basement. (Don’t worry, she’s fed and gets sunlight on the weekends!), and she makes the most gorgeous stunning, even orgasm inducing Elriel art ever!!! One of my fave Elriel theories is that they are true mates, one designed by The Mother, because we have seen throughout the series just how deeply perfect they are for each other. @luxury_banshee and I have been waiting to do this idea for a while, and we finally get to share it with yall! We know from HOFAS that the cauldron is corrupted, so it’s not out of the realm to think that Elain and Azriel have a secret mating bond that’s been buried. Don’t forget how their mother said that Elain will wed for love and beauty, which so accurately describes her and Azriel’s relationship! A secret wedding for them as well is so perfect, since we already know their love is forbidden. I think it’s definitely possible. Who does Azriel like? Elain. Who does Azriel want? Elain. Who is Azriel losing sleep over? Elain. So here’s a stunning beautiful piece of their true destined bond snapping into place when uniting and binding themselves together in marriage. I think that @luxury_banshee is the perfect person to execute such a wonderful commission, and she definitely nailed it! What do yall think!

Don’t forget to poop today!

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ quote is from A Court of Silver Flames

✮♱✮ characters are Elain Archeron & Azriel

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ likes, saves, and shares are always appreciated!

✮♱✮ no reposts allowed.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

[hauntedfictionland]

❝Forbidden pursuits❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Gwayne hightower x Fem! Reader x Alicent hightower

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, a Cole of Stormlands and one of the ladies in waiting, had been indulged with the green queen for quite a time. It just so happened that her brother came to king's landing and you truly realised the beauty of the hightowers. Something that could get you in tremendous trouble.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Sexual themes, kissing, jealousy, homophobia, mentions of patriarchy and death, class differences and slightly possessive behaviour.

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I had this idea as soon as I saw hotd season two. I mean, I've never done a writing where reader was interested in two characters at once, but there's a first time for everything I guess. And this turned out to be more of a alicent x reader fic, than a gwayne/alicent fic I realised as I kept writing it, but here it is! And yes, I quoted Bridgerton.

You were soaking in bliss.

One of her hands cupped your cheeks, her thumb lazily running circles around them as her other held your waist tightly. Like you would run away and never come back. She always did that, holding you in her grasp so closely, like she couldn't get close enough, as though you both could become one. Alicent Hightower, or rather, the queen, was unable to do anything under your touch, she went so weak and you didn't even know it.

You first met her after the tourneys, after your brother defeated the rogue prince. She had already seen your brother, but stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell on you, so beautiful as you talked with Criston inside the castle walls. Her chest bundling up with feelings that were improper and forbidden for a lady. Especially when it came to another one. After her unfortunate marriage, she did become close with your brother—but you? avoided as if you were the plague. To her, you were always a forbidden thing. Something she can never have.

Or rather never allow herself to have.

But after the infamous engagement night of princess Rhaenyra and ser Laenor, as she saved ser Criston, all she could think about was you. If your brother was banished or hanged, you would be heartbroken. And also, your reputation will also be ruined, she felt this need to protect you—to keep you close to her. And you would probably move away. Considering all of them, she saved the life of your brother.

Afterwards, she allowed herself to interact with you, convincing herself that it was only right that she gets to know his family after doing such a huge favour for him. Refusing to even the thought that it was all just an excuse to see you. And yet, she found herself staring at your lips as you spoke, having the urge to grab you and kiss them so strong it scared her. You scared her. All these things, these horrifying feelings she felt, how out of control her mind because at just your mere presence? well she could already imagine the look on her father. Of disgust.

Especially when Criston started talking to you about marriage, to have a lord from a suitable house be betrothed to you. He had thought Alicent would be thrilled about that idea as he proposed it, now that he had her favour. Little did he know she was nowhere near happy about it. You, who held her fragile heart in your hands without even knowing it, you, who made her skin shiver at even the mere thought of you—you, who was the bane of her existence yet the object of all her very desires. You.

How could she let anyone else steal you and your heart?

She let your brother on, avoiding the subject as long as she could. After all she was being selfish. You were probably nothing like her, you must fawn over knights and lords. Dream of marrying one. You would never share her— those absurd feelings she refused to ever acknowledge. There was no point in keeping you close to her. Until that night took place.

The night you kissed her.

You and her had been sitting in her bed in her private chambers, eating dinner and talking all the gossips about the castle. With you, she felt like a young girl she used to be with Rhaenyra. She had just put baby Helena to bed, well the maids did, but she watched. She never really knew how to take care of her children, when she felt like a child herself.

But with you, there was peace, happiness and a bubbling feeling in her chest. This was the sole moment between you and her, just alone in the comforts of her chamber. This felt oddly intimate to her, but she was sure it was nothing like that to you or any other ordinary lady who liked spending time with friends. She remembers it so well.

“And” you speak, barely able to control your laughter, “her baby looked quite like the Ser Arthur might I add, instead of her husband. She didn't even deny that when I asked.”

Alicent smiles, her chest bundling with joy at the sight of you laughing. She loved seeing you happy, the curve of your jaw and the lashes of your eyes, they were strangely so perfect. Everything about you aligned all so perfectly, she wondered if you even knew. If she herself even knew how much she craved you.

“Your grace?” she hears you speak out, snapping out of her momenterlly thoughts containing you, “are you listening?”

A frown appeared on her face. You had never called her by her name. Always so formal. She never objected since she felt the eyes of her father's little birds everywhere, and it would be inappropriate for one to think that the queen was giving a companion this much liberty. Especially when that companion just so happened to be a lady. But right now? this moment was just yours and hers.

“You can call me Alicent.” She says, a bare softness in her tone, “I tend to believe we are close friends now.

You formed an ‘oh’ shape in your lips, slowly and hesitantly nodding. She waited, to hear those words out of you. To see how her name would sound like from your mouth.

“Okay, Alicent.”

Gods, it was heaven. Her eyes widened, a quick hitch escaping her. You..said her name? and it sounded so sweet, so pure coming from you. Like she has just gotten something she didn't know she had been craving and aching for until now. If heaven existed, it was you for her.

She couldn't help herself before words came spilling out of her mouth, “Say it again.” your eyes widen, a bit overwhelmed and shook. It seemed she herself was surprised at her own request, but didn't convey any further. You gulped, unknowingly a shiver coming down your spine. This felt...close and personal. This felt forbidden.

“....Alicent.”

“Again.”

Your head looks up at her, “I.... Alicent?”You see her sigh, her chest heaving. You notice there's a bite of the stew you both ate a few minutes ago, on her lips. Without thinking, you reach out your hand, her breath hitches as your thumb brushes against her lower lip. You got caught in a haze, your thumb slowly lingering a bit longer than it should. Her eyes, brown and wide, stared at you with a look you couldn't quite figure out. All you knew was that your heart was beating faster than ever, moonlight striking on her beautiful face as the winds seemed to slow down. You did not know what came to you, when your head leaned in so close to her's, your foreheads touching.

And your lips softly brushed against hers.

It was slow at first, but you got the steady—ness you needed when she moved her lips against yours. That she did not pull away, with a disgusted look. If you had kissed her before she had gotten married, perhaps she would have. But at this moment? when she was mother to two and in a marriage with a man twice her age, she wouldn't let go of any chance of happiness. Of love. Of her truest desires. You. She grabbed your neck, pulling you even closer with a surprising desperation and ache. Humming quietly as she felt the taste of your lips, pink and rosemary. It was so, better, and softer compared to Viserys. It was everything she wanted. Needed.

After that day, she told you—or rather asked for you to stay by her side. That she'd make you one of her ladies—in—waiting. It was surprising, that Alicent wanted you all the time after the very moment you both shared. Because of the fact that she used to go to the sept every day after seeing you, praying to the gods for them to rid her of this feeling, this sin. The one she felt every time she saw you. But after that kiss? how could it be wrong if it felt all so right?

So you stayed. And she took it as a blessing. Took you as one. Because to her, you were.

And now there you are, tangled in each other after all these years. It had been a few weeks, since her husband's death. Yet she felt more free than ever before.

You had been laying beside her in her bed, only the sheets covering both your bodies. She turned to look at you, pupils expanding at the sight of you. Alicent nestled her face in the crook of your neck, as you felt a blush rise up your cheeks. This—even after all the chaos of the court and her children, this was heaven.

“Y/N?” you heard her muffled voice speak up, tilting your chin to get a better look.

“Hmm?”

She peaked her head up, the sunlight and its rays coming up to reflect on both of you, the morning was still early and it was her most favourite part of the day. Because you were there, wrapped up in her. Alicent's fingers traced up from your jaw to your cheeks and eventually settling on to caress your forehead and eye brows. She was always so attentive and gentle in how she took care of you, as if you were her most prized possession. She wondered how a breathing living soul could have this much power over her.

“I—” she hesitates, not because she's unsure but because she's afraid you are, “I love you.”

Your eyes blow wide open, lips parting. Of course, it was evident you both cared and lusted for each other, but love? you did feel a brewing in your chest every time you saw your brother looking at her with loving eyes, or her smiling at him in return. And perhaps a sick yet joyous feeling in your chest as she would kiss your cheek while baby Aegon or Aemond had been playing in your lap years ago. A swelling feeling of something you did know would only result in heartbreak.

She was the queen, the very queen of the seven kingdoms. While you came from a steward's house with no land or title to yourself.

And now she was telling you she shared your love? that she was in love with you? No. It couldn't happen. You were a woman, and so was she. Even if that boat sailed a long time ago, it still did not change the fact that this was wrong and frowned upon in so many ways. You could even be beheaded, hanged or much worse. Besides, she doesn't mean it. How could she? you were you, while she was everything. Even if she's saying it now, when she comes out of the daze, she'll regret every thing she said.

“I—no!” you get up, shrinking away from her embrace. Alicent follows your movement, a sudden fear and heartache in her eyes. “I..I can't do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, I'm sorry if I upsetted you—”

You interrupt her, harshly, “No!” your chest becomes heavy, breathing ragged. “You have no idea what you're saying and I...I will never share the same feelings.”

Suddenly you regret saying that, saying anything. Because she has a pool of tears forming in her eye lids.

You realise it is because of you. Of course that was a lie, you loved her more than you thought possible. Alicent Hightower had your heart the moment you had seen her, but now? You had possibly lost the best thing of your life. All because of insecurity. You just did not know how much you really did mess up, until it becomes too late. Hightowers don't let anyone get away with hurting them, you should have known that. Especially when another one was about to come in your life.

It had been a month and twelve days since you had not talked to Alicent.

So much had happened in that time. Aegon's son, Jahaerys, a baby, was executed while in his sleep. A period of mourning followed. She did not come to you once, instead being cold to her own son and preferring the company of your brother instead. You knew that when he was made the hand of the king, they both sitting together and even smiling at hallways.

Maybe you were being paranoid, but it was well deserved after what you had done.

However, the aftermath of the little boy's death, and speculation of it being Rhaenyra's hand, Aegon came to you. He knew you since he was a little baby, and saw you as a second mother. Perhaps you were more than Alicent was. He cried, confided how nobody in his council understands him—how his own mum doesn't acknowledge or understand his grief. You knew Alicent had a hard time with Aegon out of all her children, she saw him as all her failed dreams and ambitions. It was wrong. But you didn't blame her. You had seen what happened to her.

You offered him comfort, after what he had been through, it was the least you could offer. Also perhaps because you felt a tinge of guilt after everything that had happened with Alicent and you.

With Aemond, you adored the boy when he was a kid. He was sensitive and kind. That's what you loved the most about him. But, as years passed, with the driftmark incident and now, the stormlands one, he was completely unrecognisable. Cold, sharp and quiet. That's how he was. You did not know how to even approach him, he was smart, and everytime Alicent and you were in his presence, he was always watching attentively. Much like Otto. You did not want more reasons for Alicent to be angry with you any longer.

Much in your thoughts, you did not realise Criston speaking until he shook your arm. You snapped up to him, as he chuckles.

“Wish me luck?” he says, you are suddenly remembered where he was to go. Rook's rest with a pack of king's guards. You wanted him to be well, and alive, of course you did. Yet the small smile you gave couldn't help but be slightly forced.

“Of course,” your head lies low, biting your lip, “I wish you luck and for no harm to come to you, brother.”

Looking around, all the knights were either walking somewhere or getting their armour and suit dressed up. This could be dangerous as well as harming. Capturing rook's rest, the black queen might send one of her dragons. And Criston would be there to face the burn. Your chest tightened at the thought, you did not want your brother to be harmed let alone die.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her, Alicent walking towards your direction. Your breath hitches, looking upwards of an excuse to leave but it's too late; she's already in front of your brother. Not even glancing at you.

“Your grace” he greets, as you cursty in response. She didn't spare you a single look. A bitter taste in your mouth formed at that.

“Ser Criston” Alicent looks at him, a glint in her eyes “may the seven guide you, good knight. And lead you not into shadow and death.”

There's an unspoken tension between them, as you look back and forth in—between the two. It was eating you away, like a knot grew further. Was there something there? even the thought made you want to scream. He thanked her for her prayers, and she turned away. You thought that was the end of it, before he called out to her. Requesting that she grant him her favour. That her lord commander may go into battle with her blessings in her heart.

“What are you doing?” you quietly hissed.

Alicent did not do anything, but as she saw your reaction, perhaps that changed her mind. She had a very light smirk, as she walked towards him. Your eyes widened as she took out a hanky, letter A engraved on it. You saw the whole interaction, their hands touching as he received it with a smile. You were...you didn't know what you were. All you knew was that you'd vomit if you watched a second more. You turn away, tears bubbling in your eyes as you walked away. You didn't see where you were going, only that you needed to be as far away as possible.

Until you bumped into someone.

“For god's sake!” a man with an accent of old town yelps out.

He was a knight. He was handsome, tall and sluggish. Light brown haired just like Alicent. You looked down to see hightower symbol at the centre of his armour. It dawned on you, he was Gwayne Hightower. Otto Hightower's oldest son. He was Alicent's brother. What truly concerned you was that you noticed the freckles on his cheeks to nose, the alignment of his jaw and the colour of his eyes. He was quite gorgeous.

“I apologize, my lord. I did not know where I was heading.”

Gwayne looks you up and down, lips pursued in a thin line as though he was trying to figure you out. His head tilted, and somehow you found the act more attractive than you should.

“The mistake was mine, my lady. I should have seen it from a mile ago.” he says, quite charmingly, “Although I do wonder, I did not catch your name. You see it's daily you see a beautiful woman when you're heading to a battlefield.”

A giggle escapes you, not knowing a pair of eyes that were on you.

“Why thank you, my lord.”

You smile, a genuine one. “I am...well I'm..” you knew the hightowers were quite upset at the revelation of your brother being named hand. It was a revenge scheme against Otto, but you were happy he got the chance. If he were to find out you were a Cole, perhaps he won't like you. But, why were you worried whether he likes you or not? a turmoil forms in your head, hands coming over to clasp themselves. You started in the only way you believed would be appropriate.

“I would first like to apologise for the late dismissal of your father, the formal lord hand. He served three kings very well.” you clear your throat, “I know it must feel, well, surprising and sort of a tiny betrayal. My brother was the least expectant candidate for the role.”

His mouth opens at the realisation, lips parting. He looked like he wanted to speak his mind, but stopped. Nodding modestly.

“I appreciate your kind words, Lady Cole.” he didn't fail to mention the disappointment in his tone. Although, a mischievous glint in his eyes was still there. “I do not mean to be rude, but I did not expect you when I thought of Criston Cole's sister.” your eyes furrowed, a frown on your lips. “What did you expect, my lord?”

Your heart quickens as he smiles, he has a beautiful smile. You think.

“I did not expect her to be so....kind hearted and well mannered.”

“Well mannered?” you repeat.

He's quick to respond, “I only meant, you turned out to be much more to my liking than I expected. Perhaps more than I will ever find your brother. But do not tell him that, my lady.”

A laugh escapes your lips, unknown to the very eyes you were so familiar with watching the whole ordeal.

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lord.” your voice was a whisper, eyes brightened. Gwayne had a smile of his own, only disappearing when Alicent called out for him.

“I should take my leave, my lady. A pleasure talking to you.” you watch him nod politely, walking away where Criston and Alicent stood. Suddenly you realised the butterflies in your chest, how taken you were with him. This was bad, very much so. Even if it was only a mere attraction, and what you shared with Alicent was much more—this wasn't good at all.

The night was moonless, only the stars light to keep you company. You liked to walk in the halls of the castle at night time, with no other to judge or peer at. No sounds of hushed and loud whispers, handmaidens running here and there or guards at every center. This was peaceful. Some would say it wasn't secure or safe, but since you hadn't encountered any accidents yet, you did not see a reason to stop. Although the silence left opportunities for thoughts.

You wondered if Gwayne was married. He was a knight, swore an oath of chastity, so probably not. It did not matter to you, all you were was curious. After what happened to Jahaerys, and Alicent focusing on her own family. Her real one—the one she created. You could say you felt a bit left out, she had a whole family of her own, the royal family. While you were no more than her mistress. It felt like a slap to your face, like reality struck down at you with a thousand bolts. You will never be the apple of her eye, her entire focus. You will always be on the sidelines.

As you walked further into the castle, you did not notice a tail of footsteps following behind before it was too late. A hand grabbed your shoulder, slamming you against the wall with much force.

“Ouch!” you hissed in pain, and immediately look forward to who caused it. Your chest tightened, eyes widening. Alicent stood there with both hands on your shoulders.

She lunged in, her lips attaching yours. This was different, a surprise yelp out of you came out muffled. Alicent was desperate in the way she held your waist, her other hand trailing up your neck. She never did this, in a public place where anyone could see. Hell—you, both could die if anyone were to even walk in the same direction. She was bold, harsh and angry. You could feel that in her kiss. Yet there was just a tiny tenderness in the way she caressed the chin of your face.

You gasped as she pulled away, rage in her eyes, and a little something else too, “You were smiling at him like he was about to charm your dress off?” she scoffs, jealousy in her voice. You realised who she hinted at, Gwayne, her brother.

“I—” you're cut off by the sinking feeling of her lips on your neck, softly sucking at your sweet spot, earning a very quiet moan from you. Alicent knew every inch of your body like it was her's, every scar, every burn and every where she knew you would succumb to her mercy.

You hushed, pleading for her to stop as one could see both of you. She did not. Alicent was being unfair, and you knew that. But you could not let her get away with it, not after she had made you feel such burning pain as well. You push her away, just lightly, enough to send her stumbling back on her feet. Eyes red. She had been crying, you notice, now that you had finally seen her clearly. A ache settles in your heart at the realisation. But you shrug it off.

“You can't treat me like I'm your personal girl at a brothel!” you shout in a whisper, as she scoffs. A malice on her tongue, “Well, seeing you making such affections on my brother, perhaps you are no less than any woman who works there.”

Your eyes widened at her implication, shock coming up you. How could she say that? to call you a...whore? You didn't see if Alicent regretted it, you did not give her a chance to before speaking yourself out of pure anger.

“And what if I did have affections for your brother? he is a charming man.”

This wasn't particularly a lie, and that scared you. Just how much of a beautiful man he was, and the way you felt around him.

“What?” her face drops, and you feel just a little satisfaction at seeing that. You both were furious, and unwilling to step down. She gritted her teeth, opening her mouth to say something more cruel but you beat her to it. —“Besides,” you start, your voice bitter, “you yourself share quite some... fondness for my brother, don't you? so why does it matter?”

That made her go quiet. And your heart even dropped more. Did it mean your words held any truth? that she really has caught some feelings for him? You were uncomfortable, very at that. Now you wished you never went for a walk in the first place. How did she even know this? did she follow you? you did not know.

Her eyes softened, “Do you really believe that?”

Before you answered, she sealed your lips with another yearning kiss. Reluctant to pull away as her lips maintained just mildly in contact with your lower lip as she pulled a bit back.

“I only want you, I've only ever wanted you. Not Criston, or anyone else. You. I thought you would have known that by now.”

She was referring to the morning she said those words. When she told you she loved you. Your harsh words, her tears, you start to remember everything. A pang of guilt comes to your chest, all this time you were afraid. Not just of the world, and the consequences, but of her. Alicent Hightower was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and she was a highborn, a lady, and eventually the queen. You were nowhere near compared to in terms of social class. A steward's daughter. You had always felt shame in that title. How could anyone love you? how could anyone as magnificent and enduring as Alicent love you? the queen of the seven kingdoms.

“I...” you breathe, unable to speak. It's either now or never. And you decide that Alicent Hightower is too deeply longed in your heart to lose.

“I love you.” Alicent's breath hitches at your sudden confession. Like she cannot breathe. She shakes her head, avoiding your eyes. “no you do not mean that. You can't, you're just saying that to ease my heart.”

You feel pain at her words, that she believed you did not love her. When in fact that's all you've been doing since you saw her. You take a hold of her shoulders, pushing her lips to yours. She gasps at the sudden act, but slowly her hands crept up your shoulders. A tear drops up on your cheek, you realise it's not yours. For the first time, neither of you care about the consequences. What would anyone say? the religion, family, society. You didn't care—not anymore, if you could hold her in your arms again and tell her just how much you love her. And neither did she.

Alicent releases an involuntary moan when your leg comes in between hers. Your knee shifting at her. She pulls away, looking for something. Staring directly into your eyes.

“You really, feel love for me?” she whispers, and you smile, pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I always have. Before I even saw you. Your grace.”

She now has a smile of her own. Pulling you closer by your neck, “Well, then tell me again that you love me. It's your queen's order. And the punishment of rejecting it is fatal.”

You giggle at her words, “Oh is it?” she nods, a blush on both sides of her cheek. “Then how can I refuse? especially when I love you.” Alicent immediately kisses you before you could even finish the words. Hands coming up to cradle your face. This, this was love. You knew where it was going. And you were going to relish in it.

That night, you spend time in the queen's chambers. Filled with love and passion. And lust. You were always Alicent's soft spot. Her weakness, yet her power. And so was she yours. You know you love her. But, Gwayne Hightower? her brother. The thought of him brought dread to you, because of how much pleasure it brought. You didn't love him, but gods, you felt a great attraction towards him. Especially when he smiles. No, you couldn't do that. You had to distract yourself, spend more time with Alicent. The only time he did not come to your mind. Because if you didn't do that, and indulged in his thoughts, now that he was about to come back? well it would bring a great deal of trouble for you.

You knew Hightowers were always trouble.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛!

[calisverse]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ENEMIES AND LOVERS AND ALL THE FLAVORS IN BETWEEN. all these quotes, sentences and prompts are based on the topic of enemies to lovers and all the flavors that come with it. antagonistic, enemies and lovers, enemies and former lovers, and more. change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.

“I hate you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

“Every time you glare at me, my heart skips a beat.”

“If I had a dragon for every time I thought about you, they’d burn this kingdom to ashes.”

“You wound me more than your sword ever did.”

“Stop saving me—it’s disrupting my plan to hate you.”

“Why do I feel safe when danger has your face?”

“I wouldn’t trust you with my life… unless you’re the only one left.”

“You’re poison and perfume wrapped in one.”

“I can’t stand you. And yet… I can’t stand to be without you.”

“You’re my greatest rival—and the one I want beside me in battle.”

“Must you always be so infuriatingly right?”

“The more you mock me, the deeper your words carve into me.”

“You destroyed everything I built… and then rebuilt me.”

“I loathe your arrogance—yet your confidence makes my pulse race.”

“I’ve never wanted an enemy’s lips on mine… until now.”

“Your smile is the most dangerous weapon you wield.”

“You call it crossing a line; I call it coming closer.”

“I’ve sworn to break you… but you’re the one who broke me.”

“When you cry, I’ll be the only one to wipe your tears.”

“Our history is written in insults—but our future in whispers.”

“I’d rather fight a legion than admit how much I need you.”

“You make me question everything I believed about hate.”

“I once thought your heart was ice…but it melts at my touch.”

“We’re two halves of the same war.”

“You infuriate me, enthrall me, and haunt my dreams.”

“Enemies on paper, defenders in practice.”

“I hate you with the intensity I’d rather feel for someone else.”

“If I could burn this world down to keep you safe, I would.”

“Your betrayal cuts deeper than any knife.”

“I despise what you did… but I love what you made me feel.”

“You’re a puzzle I never want to solve.”

“I’ll fight you to my last breath—and then kiss you.”

“Your voice is the war drum to which my heart marches.”

“I can’t decide whether to kill you or kiss you.”

“In another life we’d be allies. In this one, perhaps lovers.”

“You dared challenge me—and stole my admiration.”

“Every enemy is just a lover in disguise.”

“I hate you fiercely—and love you recklessly.”

“Your scars match mine—and bind our fates together.”

“For years I’ve trained to defeat you, never to surrender to you.”

SCENARIOS.

Two rival spies must negotiate a fragile truce in a midnight exchange—and discover sparks in the shadows.

After being captured, a knight and the enemy captain must travel through hostile territory together to survive.

Both infiltrating the same corrupt court under false identities, they suspect each other’s cover—until their truths collide.

Stranded in a ruined keep during a snowstorm, a hostile prince and rebel commander share warmth and secret confessions.

At a masquerade, two sworn enemies dance unknowingly—only to recognize each other when the masks come off.

A thief and a paladin must team up to find a legendary artifact; along the way, moral lines blur.

An enemy dragonrider and a knight guard a newly hatched dragon—forcing them to cooperate to escape.

Two heirs to opposing thrones are forced into an arranged marriage to broker peace—whether they like it or not.

Thrown into a magical trial to prove their loyalty, they must protect each other—or perish together.

A diplomat’s child is taken hostage by a warlord; the warlord’s second-in-command questions their orders when the child smiles.

A witch hunter teams up with the very witch he was sent to execute to stop a greater evil.

Two genius inventors compete for the same royal patent—and discover sparks in their code and contraptions.

Decades after slaughter, two spirits—once foes—reunite to set right old wrongs and fall in love amidst the tombstones.

When a new tyrant rises, two leaders who once hated each other must form an uneasy alliance.

High‑school debate rivals forced to partner up for nationals discover their best arguments start with “I love you.”

A naval captain and a pirate queen survive a wreck on a deserted island and learn to rely on one another.

A challenge for swordsmanship at dawn becomes an intimate conversation under the stars after the blades lower.

A ruthless general is injured in battle and saved by the enemy’s most compassionate healer.

Two CEOs battling in the courtroom must spend a week in team‑building retreats and discover common ground.

Each trapped on opposite sides of a talking enchanted mirror, they argue endlessly—until their reflections lock lips.

[soelstress]

It May Have Started As An Act

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x female!reader

Summary: When you suggest a fake relationship to benefit you and a local deputy, little do you know how real it will become.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , non / con , minor language , minor violence , Lee Bodecker being an absolute sweetheart

A/N 1 - This is my submission for @gremlin-girly’s 20 questions challenge

A/N 2 - Prompts

Quote - “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Character - Lee Bodecker

Trope - Fake dating

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - I created the banner on Canva and the pics were sourced either from Pinterest or Google - credit to original creators - divider by the talented @firefly-graphics

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

“Knockemstiff is a Podunk backwater town where greed and corruption are fueled by political influence and powerful people looking to benefit.” Not once in your life had you ever doubted your parents' wisdom. Until now. It was your disbelief that led to your current situation with a sapphire stare burning into your soul.

Your mother was born and raised in Knockemstiff and said that nothing had changed from the time she was born to the day she left after becoming engaged to your father. They moved to Columbus while your grandmother stayed in Knockemstiff. Over the years your grandmother would visit for a brief escape and relish in the progressive city where your mother thrived in the updated fashions and attitudes while teaching you to speak and act as a lady should but never to let anyone mistreat you.

Twenty years that had been filled with laughter, lessons and love. Your mother taught you how to be true to yourself but also how to be a good wife to a loving husband, which was something your father exemplified. He in turn taught you to stand up for yourself and how a true husband and father should act. One day you hoped to find a husband with whom you could have a marriage like your parents.

It was something you held on to when you lost both of them in a car accident. A drunk teen had been drag racing and crashed into their car. Only days after their funerals a lawyer called to advise that your mother’s will stated that you had inherited your grandmother's house since she had passed when you were a teenager. With no other family to consult, it fell to you to decide what to do with the house which your mother had rented out. Though you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay in Columbus, you were reluctant to move permanently to Knockemstiff and decided that the best choice would be to rent out your parents‘ house for a few months while you spent time in Knockemstiff to consider your choices. The earnings you made from working part-time and the money that your parents had saved would allow you time to do this. After notifying your employer who bid you good luck and finding a tenant for your parents house you made the journey to Knockemstiff.

Almost a month had passed since your arrival. Almost every word of the warnings your mother gave was accurate. What she hadn’t warned you about was the difference in treatment you’d receive. There were a few of the elders who remembered your family were one of their own and treated you with kindness. Because you were from a big city where the fashion and attitudes were more advanced than the local ideals the women either treated you with condescension or with concealed fear as if you were a seductive temptress who would steal their men and corrupt their youth. To the men you were a challenge. Several of them had attempted to ask you on a date with some being more persistent than others.

One such man was the Sheriff’s son. Johnny Morton relished in his father’s position of authority knowing any misdemeanours would be overlooked. His confidence in his situation was so powerful that it carried over to the rest of his life. It was no secret that women were disposable to him though some foolishly hoped he’d look their way again. But instead his focus was now on you. Like today when he’d ambushed you working at the local library.

“Aw c’mon doll. Let me take you for a ride in my new wheels. I promise to give you a good time.”

Morton’s tone made your skin crawl followed by his lecherous gaze raking over your body. It took all your self control to hold in the shiver he created as you didn’t want him to know he inspired ANY kind of reaction within you. Unfortunately because he was the Sheriff’s son it also required every ounce of civility and propriety to address him.

“Unfortunately I have plans.”

His dismissive laugh just continued to rile you and that last thread of civility was barely hanging on to your last shred of patience.

“Toots I haven’t even said a day. We could go to a passion pit and play back seat bingo.”

Either he was really oblivious or just didn’t know when to quit. But either way you’d had enough. You’d spent weeks turning him down and still he was determined to change your mind. Or more accurately make you his latest conquest.

“I believe the lady said she’s busy.” The smooth drawl relaxed you instantly, knowing that you’d be able to escape this uncomfortable encounter with a witness.

Though his smirk wavered, Morton's eyes never left you. “This don’t concern you Bodecker so go bug someone else. Maybe you can bug someone to dance with you at the Fourth of July party?”

“I’m already goin’ with someone but that doesn’t change the answer.”

A muscle twitched in Morton’s jaw. “And what’s she busy doing?”

His arrogant attitude pushed you over the edge. “She is washing her hair.”

A snort disguised as a cough made your lips twitch though you saw a flash of teeth over Morton’s shoulder. Before he could answer you cut him off. “I also have a date to the party. Now if you’ll excuse me I have somewhere to be.”

You were glad for another presence as you suspected Morton would linger if you were alone but instead he grunted and stalked off. You turned to face your saviour. “Thank you Deputy Bodecker though I’m sorry you had to get involved.”

His blue eyes followed Morton as he turned out of sight. “Some men don’t understand the word ‘no’. Especially those with situations like him.” The scowl on his face melted as he faced you with a small smile. “I suspect you could’ve handled him just fine on your own. But after all the bellyachin’ he’s done and bragging about how he’d wear you down eventually… Couldn’t help myself Miss.”

Bile rose in your throat as the lack of consideration and arrogance of Johnny Morton. You had no intention of exchanging anything but polite words when required. But this just reaffirmed your parents' warnings. You shook your head before offering a smile in return.

“So who’s the lucky girl attending on the arm of the most gallant man in Knockemstiff?”

Deputy Bodecker blinked in surprise before rubbing the back of his neck. “Not so sure I deserve that title Miss. And there’s no dame. I said that to get him off my back. The Fourth of July party is in a few weeks and all the other deputies already have dates.”

You cocked your head in confusion. “And there’s nobody who wants you to take them? Beggin’ your pardon Deputy but that sounds unlikely.”

A shrug answered you. “There’s some ladies who want me to ask. But they just wanna be seen with potential Sheriff candidate Deputy Bodecker. I wanna ask someone who wants to know Lee Bodecker.”

Sympathy and pity flooded you. The Deputy seemed a good man, wasted in this cesspit of a town. “Forgive me if I seem forward Deputy but I’d like to know what Mr Bodecker likes to drink so I can thank him for fending off unwanted advances.”

Red coloured the deputy’s face and he ducked his head shyly. “Cola or lemonade would be swell. But I couldn’t allow you to pay Miss. My momma would skin me alive God rest her soul.”

Feeling brave you winked at him and giggled as his blush deepened. “What if the locals were the ones who paid?” You walked into the back of the library to open the icebox and pulled out two bottles of cola.

“Thank you Miss.” He held out his hand to pop the bottle cap before handing it back to you and doing the same with his own. You watched as he took a hearty swig and gasped in delight. “That’s so good.” He licked his lips and tilted his head at you. “Didn’t you say you needed to be somewhere?

Warmth filled you as you realised he had actually listened to you. “That was so Morton would make like a banana and split. But I should lock up.” The deputy made to stand. “Don’t rush on my account, Deputy. Please finish your drink. I’ll be a few minutes yet.”

As you walked around completing the last minute tasks you could feel his gaze on you but not once did it feel uncomfortable. If anything it felt reassuring. As you closed and secured the doors you turned to find the Deputy waiting on you and took a moment to look at him. Dark hair was closely cropped to his head which only seemed to emphasise the cherubic cheeks you made blush. His eyes had turned arctic when Morton was around but now those baby blues shone softly in the sun. Pink pouty lips tugged into a soft smile. He wasn’t slight like some of the men in town who looked like manicured bodybuilders. Broad shoulders and muscular arms lead to a belly that looked firm with just a hint of pudge continued down to thick thighs.

The man before you was a good looking gallant gentleman. He deserved to go to the party with someone who appreciated that. Suddenly your brain sparked with an idea. It was risky but could benefit both of you. “Deputy… would you mind walking with me for a bit please?”

“Beggin’ your pardon Miss. You want to do what?” The Deputy’s brows shot up so fast they almost flew off his face while his blue orbs now resembled owl eyes with how wide they’d grown.

“Pretend to be a couple for the next few weeks until the results of the election. First, I think it would help with the election if you were seen to be an upstanding citizen and traditional man with a sweetheart.” Your logic couldn’t be refuted. “Second it gets Morton to leave us both alone.” Another valid point.

His brows had lowered and were now furrowed as Deputy Bodecker tilted his head. “I guess that might work. But why would you want to be seen with a slob like me?”

You couldn’t help the feeling of pity that filled you at his question. Was this really how he saw himself or had Morton and his ilk somehow influenced him? “You said you’d like someone to look past the potential Sheriff. I’d like to know more about the man who’s shown me the first bit of kindness since I arrived.”

Lee shuffled his weight nervously. “And after the election? We can’t keep this up forever.”

You stepped closer and looked up to meet his eyes. “Deputy, I’ll be here until a realtor sells my house which I was told would take a month at least. But I’d make sure the blame wouldn’t fall on you. I’d say I was missing home or something.” Lee nodded in understanding. “One condition, Deputy. If I hear so much as a whisper you’ve been seen with one of those streetcorner girls-”

“No Miss, no chance of that. I’m all in.”

Over the next few weeks you and Lee played the part of a new couple. First you both went to a diner in the next county so you could talk freely away from prying eyes and find out about each other. Armed with basic information that one would be expected to know about their sweetheart so began the first step of your plan.

It started small with Lee bringing you a single flower every time he came to visit you at the library to which you reciprocated by offering a cola or another drink so he would have an excuse to stop and talk for a few minutes. Soon he’d offer to take you on walks in your lunch break and treat you to an ice cream if it was a warm day. Your momma had taught you that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach so you soon brought him food to the station if his shift differed to yours. He had been blown away with the tasty treats you brought him which varied from sweet to savoury and snarled at anyone who dared to try and sneak a bite for themselves.

It had become apparent very quickly that “Miss” or “Deputy” weren’t appropriate sentiments for a loving couple. But you hadn’t felt comfortable calling him Lee unless you were with other people. It felt wrong to use his name in such an intimate manner when it was just a ruse. Lee had readily agreed. Since you enjoyed making him blush you changed his pet name constantly to see which ones he’d react to so fiercely. When you called him “Hotshot” Lee’s reaction had you worried for a moment. He seemed to choke on thin air and his face turned white from lack of oxygen instead of the pinkish hue you’d come to expect from teasing. After a brief panic, Lee couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you and kept you close by for the rest of the day. He in turn called you ‘Pixy’ after you introduced him to your favourite candy.

During this time Lee had been nothing but a perfect gentleman. Not that you expected any less. His gallantry knew no bounds. Holding open doors, opening and closing his cruiser door for you, always offering his arm and being respectful with his carefully placed cheek kisses.

Though being in the public eye was the main intention of your arrangement it was unspoken how both of you seemed to enjoy each other's company and wanted time together without having to pretend. It was during these times that you told Lee about your parents and how you wanted so badly to have a marriage like theirs. Lee’s face had flickered slightly when you first told him that you had never wanted to settle in Knockemstiff but his face then transformed with slight envy as he heard the happy tales of your childhood.

Lee then told you that his father had walked out upon finding out his mother was expecting his younger sister Sandy but his mother had raised and instilled good values in them both. Even after their mother died Lee continued to look out for Sandy and followed her to Knockemstiff after she had a shotgun wedding to local boy Carl Henderson. But life had changed when both were killed in a home invasion gone wrong. He’d joined the police force in the hope of maybe being able to catch his sister’s killers but also to try and make a difference. Your heart bled hearing this. Lee had been dealt a terrible hand but remained a good man despite it all.

Though you knew that Knockemstiff was not where you wanted to spend your future, your stomach and heart sank at the thought of leaving behind the man who had completely changed your visit and so you spent every possible moment with him wanting to create lasting memories. But it was more than that. There were moments when you felt truly safe and cherished with Lee. The crinkle of his eyes when he saw you. The little strokes over your knuckles with his thumb if he held your hand. The way his drawl would become a soft whisper when he spoke to you.

Two days before the party you returned to the diner for a third meal. During the meal you learned that the Sheriff from an adjourning county would be attending the party to meet the hopeful candidates but also to try and build a good working relationship between the two counties. Supposedly it would be him and two deputies. Knowing it was vital for Lee to make a good impression you both discussed and reviewed any potential scenarios that may arise. From the Sheriff questioning him to the local ladies approaching him or Morton approaching you. Everything had gone well so far and you were determined to support Lee as much as possible.

After dinner Lee walked you to his cruiser to open your door and frowned when you didn’t get in. “Pixy, you ok?”

Nerves suddenly enveloped you and you ducked your head before nodding shyly. Quietly you reached into your bag and held out your hands. You heard rather than saw him approach and gently take your offering. There was a moment's silence.

“Pixy… why’d you do this?”

You gulped softly. In his hands Lee held two tickets to a horror movie he’d been talking about wanting to see. After the way he’d treated you and refused to take a cent for any dates you knew you had to do something for him. “I wanted to do something nice for you. Something that was for you alone.”

Lee smiled and offered you his hand which you took before squeaking when he pulled you into a brief but firm hug with respectfully placed hands. For a split second you were dazed by the calmness that Lee's touch left you with. All too soon he pulled back with a big smile and gently ushered you into the cruiser before heading to the drive in. At first when the movie played you were fine until tension built and you found yourself inching closer to Lee. When the monster appeared screams echoed throughout the lot but you were pressed against Lee’s side, face hidden in his neck with one hand gripping his leg while the other had a white knuckle grip on his shirt.

“Is it over?”

When the screams resumed you burrowed further into him. Once the screams stopped for a few minutes your breathing resumed normally and the scent of Lee’s cologne filled your nostrils. For another long moment you let his essence fill your head, heart and lungs before freezing. You weren’t sure what was more terrifying - facing Lee or watching the movie. But when you slowly tilted your head back you found Lee looking right at you, his eyes crinkled from the grin he was wearing.

“You’re safe Pixy. I got you.” One of his hands unwound yours that gripped his leg and entwined your fingers with his while the other squeezed the one that clutched his shirt. “You sure you wanna stay?” When you nodded slowly he turned back to face the screen. Every time you flinched or jumped he would stroke your knuckles or squeeze your hand. Butterflies erupted thick and fast in your belly and continued to flutter even after he drove you home and bid you goodnight.

The feeling lasted through the next two days up to when you were getting ready for the party. Lee had let himself in after knocking as instructed by you.

“Just a moment, Stud!”

All at once the butterflies were joined by shaky hands and a dry throat. Why were you so nervous? It was Lee for goodness sake. You figured the nerves were due to knowing so many people would be watching you and Lee tonight.

As you walked into the living room Lee turned around and your breath caught in your throat. He wore a gray suit with a white shirt and blue tie that hinted to how broad and strong he was while the colour made his eyes pop. His hair had grown during the last few weeks so the ends were starting to curl slightly and your fingers itched to stroke them.

Your heart skipped a beat in surprise. Had you really just thought that? It wasn’t till Lee cleared his throat that you realised you had been distracted by your musings.

“You polish up nicely, Deputy Bodecker. Heads will be turning tonight.”

“You’re correct there Pixy but those heads will be turnin’ for you.” Lee gulped softly. “I think every man will fight for a dance with you.”

Warmth flooded your face and heart while the butterflies calmed considerably.

“Can I count on you to protect me from those hoodlums?” You teased breathlessly.

Lee held out his hand which you took and gasped when he brushed a kiss over your knuckles. “Always Pixy.”

Once you picked your jaw up and collected the food you had made for the party Lee then escorted you to the cruiser and drove to the where the party was being held. When both of you entered the noise level dipped slightly before whispers broke out like hissing snakes. Hairs rose on the back of your neck when you felt dozens of glares aimed your way. Though you weren’t sure if it was because you ‘stole’ someone else’s chance to attend with Lee or because your dress, though modest and conservative by Columbus standards, was more revealing and form fitting than those worn in Knockemstiff.

Your grip on Lee’s arm tightened slightly and he smiled at you with reassurance before spotting a few unfamiliar people standing with Sheriff Morton. Since Knockemstiff wasn’t a big town you figured this was the party from the neighbouring county.

“Deputy Bodecker, good to see you. This is Sheriff Wallace from Pickaway.”

Sheriff Wallace shook Lee’s hand and nodded politely at you with a smile. “Pleased to meet y’all.” You watched as he introduced his deputies before a woman wearing a dress similar to yours stepped out from behind them. “This is Genevieve who works at our station.”

Genevieve giggled softly. “I couldn’t pass up the chance to visit our neighbouring county especially when there’s a dance.”

Lee tilted his head and introduced you to the strangers. This was a chance for Lee to impress the party so you decided to step away. “Honey, I’m going to find the food table. Can I get you anything?”

Lee winked. “You know what I like.” Surprised by his response you blushed and ducked your head as the men chuckled softly. Perfect. It was vital they believed in your charade. You walked over to the food table and placed your offering on the table.

“Oh honey you cooked these yourself? How brave.”

You recognised the voice belonged to Dolores. She was a backstabbing busybody with a holier-than-thou attitude that affirmed her position as the town gossip. Only a slight twitch of your brow betrayed the fact her very existence repulsed you as you set the food you’d prepared on the table.

Dolores’ sweet words were laced with venom. “Oh, little chicken pot pies. That’s… memorable.”

Instead of immediately responding you prepared a plate for Lee which contained your chicken pot pie before looking at her. “My recipes are tried and tested by my Momma who taught me everything. She and Daddy were together twenty-five years before they died and he never ate from any plate that she didn’t make for him.”

Dolores gave a simpering smile. “And just what did your dearly beloved Momma teach you?”

“That the way to keep a man was to fill his belly and empty his balls.”

You watched in satisfaction as Dolores choked on a sip of water and spluttered as her face burned red. For her to try to put you down was one thing but to insult your parents? Ire flicked through you at her audacity. When a small giggle sounded further down the table you saw Genevieve who had followed you quietly.

“Everything ok here?” Lee and the Pickaway men had arrived when they heard the commotion.

As you looked at Lee you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Yes sweetheart. Dolores here just bit off more than she could chew.” Lee’s brow raised but you saw his mouth twitch slightly.

“If it was this chicken pot pie I can't blame her.” Dolores triumphant smirk faltered when Sheriff Wallace started loading his plate with more. “This is incredible! What angel made this?”

Lee’s arm wound around you tightly. “That’s my girl's recipe.”

Even if it was an act you couldn’t help the pride that flooded you at Lee’s declaration. As you nuzzled into his side you couldn’t help feeling envious of the woman who would one day be lucky enough to take his last name after this ended and you left town. She certainly would be blessed with a kind devoted man like him.

Sheriff Wallace tipped his hat to you. As you blushed slightly Genevieve approached and smiled warmly at you and Lee. “Do you dance, Deputy?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“This is my favourite song. Would you mind?”

Lee glanced at you nervously. This was a situation neither of you had prepared for. On spotting a ring on her third finger he relaxed slightly but was still uncertain. “As much as I hate to disappoint a lady, I’d hate to offend her husband more.”

Genevieve giggled, a sentiment that was echoed by her party. “She’s been married a few years and her husband is a level headed fellow. I promise as long as you’re a gentleman you’ll have no qualms with him, Deputy.” Sheriff Wallace winked at her fondly.

Lee glanced at you again. You knew that the point of this whole thing was for Lee to make an impression but you were reluctant to share him with another woman regardless if she was married. With all eyes on you there was nothing you could do but smile and let him go. You watched as he offered his hand and led Genevieve to the dance floor before placing his free hand with careful deliberation on her hip before slowly gliding around. There was a swooping sensation in your stomach followed by a horrible twisting. Why on earth were you feeling this way?

“Seeing as your Deputy has done his duty I should do mine. Miss?”

Sheriff Wallace offered his hand. Though it was the last thing you wanted to do you politely accepted and allowed him to guide you first to the dance floor then around with graceful movement. Your gaze flickered around until you saw Lee smiling at Genevieve who was speaking softly to him.

“Deputy Bodecker seems like a good man.”

A blush stained your cheeks. Of course your mother had taught you dancing etiquette and that your focus should be on your dance partner, single or not. Though you didn’t think her teachings quite covered this scenario.

“I beg your pardon, Sheriff Wallace. That was rude of me.” You braved a peek and saw what appeared to be an understanding expression on his face. “But yes, Lee is a good man. Though it might be a bit prejudicial to ask the woman he’s seeing. Especially when I’m new to the area. You might be better asking the local folk.”

Sheriff Wallace shook his head as he twirled you gently. “Miss I’ve been a Sheriff for three years and an officer of the law for nearly three times that. I find that I learn more about a man in a position of power by how he treats his inferiors rather than his equals. From what I’ve observed Deputy Bodecker is polite and courteous to most, barring those who don’t deserve it and I cannot say they are undeserving.” Something crossed the Sheriff’s face. “I think he would make a fine Sheriff especially with someone like you supporting him.”

Your face heated as your heart twisted at the kind words. This was a means to an end. But it was promising that Lee was being recognised.

“I think I’ve kept you from him long enough.”

You glanced up in surprise and squeaked when he suddenly turned so you were next to Lee and Genevieve.

“Your sweetheart is a good dancer” she smiled at you. “But I think it’s time I returned Romeo to his Juliet.” They somehow moved effortlessly so you were now dancing with Lee as they swayed next to you.

“Miss me Pixy?”

Glancing up you saw the polite smile for Genevieve evolve as Lee’s face lit up as you started dancing with him. Instead of answering you hid in the crook of his neck. Lee kept swaying but one arm moved across your back to rest his hand on your waist while the other secured your free hand over his heart. As you felt the gentle thud of his heart you melted against him and inhaled the mixture of his cologne and the soap he used. As the song's final notes played you leaned back slightly to see Lee very close to you, his lips a mere breath away.

“Pardon me, would you mind coming with me to powder my nose?”

Despite the fact there were several officers in attendance you could have quite happily committed murder for having your moment interrupted. Lee looked slightly lost but smiled and grazed his lips across your knuckles before turning to face Sheriff Wallace. Cursing inwardly you smiled at Genevieve and followed her towards the restrooms.

“Sorry for interrupting your moment but I really wanted to talk to you.”

Any response was cut off with a growl when you saw the swarm of women descending on the two Sheriffs. They might have been cooing like pigeons but all you could see were a bunch of vultures. When you saw Dolores rubbing Lee’s arm you were seriously considering strangling her.

“I wouldn’t worry about those harpies, honey.” You blinked with surprise at Genevieve’s words. “That man is head over heels for you. Looked like someone had kicked his dog when he saw you dancing with Sheriff Wallace.”

She laughed and guided you towards the restroom. “I wanted to ask you two things. First, I can have that chicken pot pie recipe because it was divine. And second I liked what you said to that witch about how to keep a man.”

Blood rushed to your face. “Oh. I um-”

She laughed as she applied her lipstick. “It’s true though. I’ve been married three years and it’s how I’ve kept my man. He’s never had an appetite for anything another woman has ever offered. My Momma also taught me that.” She flashed a grin at you and winked with approval.

Suddenly a hand wrapped around your throat as you left the restroom and forced you outside. Despite your best efforts no amount of wriggling and fighting lessened the iron hold on your neck. Once at the edge of the property you realised it was Morton holding you captive and glanced over at Genevieve who was also struggling with one of his corrupt friends.

“Let her go Morton.” When his hand tightened around your throat you gasped “She’s with the Pickaway police. You hurt her and I bet they’ll raise hell for your daddy.”

There was a pause before Genevieve was released. When she glanced your way you smiled in reassurance and she took off before you looked at Morton. “What the hell do you want?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Heard what you gals were saying about how to keep a man. Wanted to see how well your Momma taught you.”

“Why don’t you take a long walk on a short pier?”

Suddenly your cheek stung viciously and you slumped to the ground from the force of his slap. Tears sprung to your eyes from the stinging but above that rose anger. Your parents had never laid a hand on you. Who the hell did this parasite think he was?

“Listen honey, the moment you arrived I called dibs. I tried being all sweet on ya, offering to take you for rides and I got the royal shaft. Now I hear that you’re easy for that wet rag Bodecker? Nu-uh. Not in my town.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Morton stood with a twisted smirk on his face and his hands resting on his belt as his friend roughly lifted you to stand before Morton.

“Stop with the bit. Now you’re gonna show me just what your momma taught you honey. Do a good job and my friend here will go easy on ya. He loves leftovers.”

You shuddered slightly at the sound of slurping lips but stared Morton down. “Sit on it Morton.”

His face twisted with anger. But before he could raise a hand a grey blur blew past you and tackled Morton into the shadows. From the slivers of moonlight you could barely see but then a growl rose from the dark.

“Don’t. You. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.”

With each word Lee punched Morton who tried to escape but it wasn’t until his friend stepped in that you launched forward to help Lee by kicking and scratching where possible.

“Woah woah woah! Wuss goin’ on here?!”

The loud voice cut through the chaos and you all separated though Lee quickly shielded you behind him. One of his arms was thrown out towards you as if warning you to stay back so you gripped his wrist and squeezed it to reassure him.

“Hey! I asked what’s going on here?!”

It was the person you knew was least likely to help. Sheriff Morton. He glanced around as if expecting an answer but when he saw you behind Lee he hummed softly.

“I see. Well I think that’s enough fun for one night so you oughta head home.” He turned to Johnny. “Son, why doncha-”

“No.”

It took you a moment to realise that Lee was defying his boss. For you. And the elder Morton didn’t look happy with it.

“Cool it Bodecker. Johnny here can run her home while we talk about that scuffle.”

Indignant that Sheriff Morton seemed to imply Lee was at fault you spoke up. “He’s the one who started it because he couldn’t deal with bein’ clutched!”

Lee shifted closer to you as Sheriff Morton took a step forward. “Now you listen here-”

”Trouble in the ranks, Sheriff?” A quick glance revealed one of the Pickaway deputies walking forward.

Sheriff Morton eyeballed you before waving towards the deputy. “Just a lil misunderstanding son. I’ll handle it.”

”Well I’m sure it’s nothing a lady needs to see.” You detected an edge to his words but you were too busy watching the Mortons. When the younger didn’t meet his father’s eyes the Sheriff nodded reluctantly. “Miss, why don’t you come with me?”

When you didn’t react Lee tried to tug his wrist free but you held on. “Go with ‘im Pixy.” Lee didn’t face you and instead kept watching the Knockemstiff men. Your grip moved to squeeze his outstretched hand and relaxed slightly when he squeezed back. “Go on.”

The deputy escorted you to a car where Genevieve was waiting. “C’mon Miss. We’re gonna take you home.”

You shook your head in confusion. “No, I can’t leave him. He-”

“Wallace knows” she murmured softly, catching your hands. “We’re all too aware of how things work here in Knockemstiff. I promise he’s gonna help your Deputy. But we don’t know how long that’s gonna take and you don’t need those harpies judging you. We’ll take you home and you can wait for him there.”

Silently you knew that it made sense and allowed them to take you home. On arrival you began to pace back and forth with uncertainty whether to try and find Lee but you didn’t want to risk crossing paths with the Mortons. As the name crossed your mind you cursed them, Everything had been going so well before the younger interfered. What would happen to Lee now, especially as he had refused a direct order from his boss for you and fought the Sheriff’s son?

You heard a soft tread on the steps and held your breath. Three gentle raps. You knew that knock. Bolting to the door you yanked it open and gasped. Lee had a split lip and the shadow of a bruise forming on his face. Guiding him inside you quietly sat him on the couch before getting a chilled bottle to place on the bruise and gently dabbed at his lip. He hissed slightly but didn’t move apart from his eyes which swept over you a few times.

“Are you alright Pixy?”

Blinking you stared at him before letting out a laugh of surprise. “Me? Have you seen yourself Deputy? What happened?”

“Morton got in a few licks before his daddy arrived.” Lee’s eyes darkened. “They thought they’d get to keep goin’ once you’d gone…”

Lee never once turned as he heard you walk away, his glare at the three men before him never lessening as they watched your progress. Only when their eyes landed back on him did he concentrate on his own current predicament.

“Startin’ a brawl over a girl Bodecker? I expected more of you.”

“He’s whipped. Little hussy has him on his knees. Or maybe she’s the one on her knees for him.”

“You’re cruisin for a bruisin, Morton” Lee snarled, his fists flexing restlessly.

“And you’re done Bodecker. You can kiss the badge and your job goodbye.” Sheriff Morton smirked at him. ”Might wanna take care with those public displays you have with your little sweetheart. Could get you both into some trouble.”

Over the derisive laughter and taunting threats from the other two, Lee felt a thud of panic. Not for him. But you. How could he protect you from his former boss and his sleaze of a son without his job?

“I think you’ll find that you’re the one in trouble, Sheriff Morton.” Lee turned to find Sheriff Wallace with his remaining Deputy standing close by. Both wore identical grins.

Sheriff Morton straightened as his eyes narrowed. “All due respect but this ain’t your concern nor your county.”

Sheriff Wallace chuckled though there was no humour in the sound. “I think you’ll find that it is my concern. Who owns the maroon ‘49 Mercury?”

“It’s actually Midland Maroon. That’d be my ride.” Johnny’s chest puffed out, not noticing the warning glare his father shot. “Ain’t she a beauty?”

Wallace grinned and tilted his head. “Sure is. You wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. Especially when the passengers are engaged in repeated acts of public indecency. Unfortunately it always seemed to vanish by the time the police arrived.” His grin widened when he saw Johnny freeze with realisation lighting his face. “So I asked all Sheriffs in the surrounding counties if they knew about this vehicle. And most tell me they have the same issue. Except you, Sheriff Morton. You said you’d never seen it before. I wonder how well you can do your job if you can’t see what’s right in front of you?”

It was abundantly clear that Wallace’s words held heavier meaning and belied his knowledge of the true corruption in Knockemstiff.

“We’re gonna take your boy to our station. He’s in a lot of trouble.”

His deputy walked up and cuffed the younger Morton who was threatening about what the elder Morton would do. But Sheriff Morton’s face just paled. This was a man whose palm he had never greased and from the sound of things would never even have the chance to try.

Wallace’s eyes softened when they landed on Lee. “Walk with me Mr Bodecker. We need to talk about what happened with your lady.”

“I don’t know what lies that little hussy told you but she’s been leadin’ on my boy since she arrived here!”

Wallace’s brow raised. “Which hussy do you mean? Mr Bodecker’s girl who’s been a delight compared to the scum I’ve seen, or my wife who told me that this lowlife here manhandled her out of the bathroom for his own pleasure? Only the fact that she’s from Pickaway saw her being released. My other deputy heard the threat about leftovers.”

Wallace then slapped a pair of cuffs on Johnny’s lackey. “You best get these boys a good lawyer, Sheriff.”

Lee fell into step as they headed towards a cruiser with a Pickaway sign. Once the two were settled in the back, Wallace turned to Lee. “You ok son?”

Lee nodded, unable to believe what had just transpired. But suddenly it was like a fog lifted from his face. “Sir, my-”

“She’s safe. Gen and my other deputy took her home. I trust him with my life and Gen’s. I promise no harm would’ve come to her.”

Sheriff Wallace smiled at the man before him who didn’t seem to know which way was up.

“You got caught in a brawl and lost your job yet your first concern is for your girl. That’s commendable. That’s what I’d like to see in a fellow Sheriff.” Lee ducked his head from the praise, unused to hearing such a glowing review. “Mr Bodecker, I know you were set on becoming Sheriff here. How would you feel about becoming joint Sheriff for Pickaway county?”

Lee’s head snapped up. “Sir?”

“My deputies are happy in their roles. None of them want the job, not that I blame them. But I’ve been wanting to step back for a while and try for a family with Gen. I wanna be able to take days off and see my kids be born and grow up.”

Sheriff Wallace placed his hands on his hips. “I reckon come our next election you could be wearin’ a Sheriff’s badge. Whaddya say?”

”I need to think about it.”

“WHAT?!” Poor Lee looked startled by your raised voice but you couldn’t believe what he’d said. “Please tell me you didn’t say that. You’re wasted in this town! Why on Earth would you stay?” You frowned as a smile began to grow on Lee’s face and banished the dark look he’d arrived with.

Lee chuckled softly. “Sheriff Wallace asked me the same thing.”

You were baffled. “And what could you possibly have said in return? Lee, I swear-” When his pearly whites flashed your exasperation grew. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Lee shifted closer to you. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name when we’re alone.” His blue eyes sparkled as he murmured. “I said that I couldn’t leave without knowing you were safe. But it’s more than that. I want you to come with me.”

You opened your mouth but he took your hand and hushed you gently. “Pixy… This may have started as an act… but I fell for you. And I think you fell for me too.”

He nodded towards a box that sat on the coffee table. A box where you’d stored keepsakes of your time with Lee - the ticket from the drive in, every flower he’d given you carefully pressed and lovingly preserved.

“I want that future with you, the one that your parents inspired. And I don’t care if it’s Pickaway or Columbus or even the moon… but I want to be with you.”

As his free hand cupped your cheek his eyes darted between your eyes and mouth as he leaned in and kissed you softly. Surprised by his confession you froze momentarily. Mistaking your lack of response Lee almost pulled back before your free hand gripped his shirt and held him still before pressing your lips against his.

In your little bubble your senses were all centred around Lee - his cologne, the faintest metallic tang from the cut on his lip, blue orbs gleaming as he slowly pulled back and the reverence of your name leaving his lips as he brushed his nose along yours.

When Lee’s thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek you squeezed his hand affectionately. As you let him pull you into his hold and press a kiss to your forehead you giggled quietly.

“What’s so funny Pixy?”

You tilted your head back and found Lee’s sapphire gaze piercing you and filling every inch of you with warmth. “I wasn’t looking for love but I found it in the place I least expected.”

[jvnluaa]

“To Love the Void”—A Life with Chrollo Lucilfer

Your marriage to Chrollo Lucilfer does not begin with a kiss.

It begins with a choice.

A gaze across a blood-slicked floor.

A voice that spoke like scripture unraveling in the dark.

A hand outstretched—not to save you, but to ruin you beautifully.

He didn’t say “I love you.”

He said:

“There is a place beside me. Cold, yes. But eternal. Come, and I will make you part of the story.”

And you went.

Because some people don’t fall in love.

Some people drown in it.

─────────────────────────

Morning in the House of the Spider

The room you wake in is not warm.

Minimalist. Stark. High windows where moonlight lingers far longer than sunlight dares.

He sleeps next to you like a king fallen from grace—shirtless beneath black silk, pale skin against ink-dark sheets, a rosary still looped around his wrist. He doesn’t sleep often. But when he does, it is near you. Always near you.

Chrollo wakes with no startle.

No groggy disorientation.

Just presence.

His eyes open, and they see you—truly see you. As if he’s trying to memorize your soul before the day strips it from you.

“You’re awake,” you murmur.

He leans forward, presses his lips against your collarbone, lingering like a prayer.

“Of course. I dreamt of you.”

He doesn’t mean it romantically.

He means it philosophically.

You are his dream.

His obsession.

The last thing in this world he cannot dissect or fully predict.

─────────────────────────

The Way He Moves Through the Day

Chrollo moves like a man who owns every room—but mourns each one he walks through.

He’s always in black.

Not for fashion.

But because he considers mourning a lifelong discipline.

He reads before speaking.

He watches people like a god amused by ants.

But around you?

There’s a reverence in his gaze.

He touches the small of your back lightly in public. Not to show affection, but to remind you: You are not forgotten. You are always known. Always claimed.

The Phantom Troupe often watches you two in silence.

They don’t understand how he can kill with a smile one moment, and hours later, sit beside you with his head in your lap, quoting ancient texts about fate, entropy, and the meaninglessness of life… with his fingers tangled gently in yours.

But they don’t need to understand.

They just accept:

He doesn’t bleed for them.

He bleeds only for you.

─────────────────────────

When He’s Gone

When Chrollo leaves, he doesn’t say goodbye.

He leaves a page open in one of his worn books. A message hidden in poetry. A single glove folded over your favorite mug.

He disappears for days. Weeks.

You don’t question it.

Because you understand the paradox of loving Chrollo Lucilfer:

You are both everything to him—and nothing.

You are the final tether to something real, and yet he could vanish into the void at any moment without looking back.

But when he returns?

He never walks in.

He appears.

Black coat, blood-slick boots, eyes void of guilt.

And always—always—he says:

“I missed you. Or at least, the shape your presence makes in the silence.”

He doesn’t ask if you missed him.

He already knows.

─────────────────────────

When He Touches You

Chrollo is not rough.

He is precise.

His fingers trace your throat like a sacred path.

His hands are cold, always, but they warm only for you.

When he kisses you, it’s not with lust.

It’s with thought.

As if each movement means something. As if each brush of lips is one verse in a holy text only the two of you understand.

He whispers things like:

“If I lost you, I wouldn’t rage. I would simply burn the world in silence.”

“Your heartbeat is the only rhythm that breaks through the noise.”

“You are the only variable I never wanted to control.”

He does not possess you.

He includes you—in his madness, in his rituals, in his universe of scripture and slaughter.

And when you say his name—truly say it, with devotion, not demand—his eyes close, and for one moment, the chaos in him quiets.

─────────────────────────

Night – Ritual, Power, Worship

You once asked him why he sleeps beside you when he could be anywhere, alone in the dark, building plans inside his head.

He answered:

“Because gods do not sleep. But men do. And I want to remember I am still human while I have you.”

He doesn’t hold you like a lover.

He surrounds you like a religion.

One arm draped over your waist.

Fingers ghosting your pulse.

Always listening for your breath.

Always tracking your dreams.

Sometimes he wakes before you, watching.

Always watching.

Reading you like scripture.

And when your eyes meet his, he doesn’t smile.

He says, softly:

“You’re still here. Good.”

─────────────────────────

To Love Chrollo Means…

Accepting silence over promises.

Being the one place he returns to after death dances in his shadow.

Being quoted poetry instead of affection.

Watching him kill and knowing he does it with full control—and no regret.

Feeling his gaze like a cathedral collapsing over your body.

Knowing he would destroy everything if the universe took you.

But most of all?

Being the only thing he cannot understand.

And yet, the only thing he cannot be without.

─────────────────────────

Final Whisper Before the Next Chapter

One night, he murmurs against your bare shoulder:

“I was never supposed to belong to anything but death. But now you sleep beside me—and I fear I have become real.”

And you answer:

“Then let me be the only lie you ever believe.”

And in the dark, you feel him smile—for the first time in weeks.

[nevernonline]

✧.* must love dogs; csc one shot.

✧.* synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

part of my seventeen movie series.

paring: seungcheol x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.)

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lovers

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes.

word count: 3.7k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. I hope you enjoy my lil must love dogs inspired fic, its one of my fav movies!! xo.

“So how was bachelor number five?” 

With a roll of your eyes, you gazed at your friend Seungkwan resting his feet on top of your shared glass coffee table, ticking the tip of the city guide book and magazines rested on top. 

“Boring. He was nice or whatever, good looking, but he wouldn’t shut up about league of legends and his job. Other than that he asked me no questions about myself or what I do. A failure as most would call it.” 

“So I take it you wouldn’t want to go out with him again?” 

“God, whatever gave you that impression? I thought you could tell we were headed for marriage?” 

“Hey. I’m doing you a very nice thing, you don’t have to be so sarcastic about it.” 

“Look, I know. But just because Jun is getting married and I still haven’t moved on doesn’t mean I need to be dating all of the sudden.” 

The boy patted the seat next to him. Scooching over from his spot, making room for you on the couch. 

“ It’s been nearly three years since you ended it with him. At least fuck someone before you dry up.” 

“That’s fucking gross and what vibrators are for.” 

A small scream left your friend's mouth as he covered his ears trying to remove what he had just heard coming out of your mouth. 

“Y/n his wedding is in two months, we need to find someone to bring that’s not me. You don’t want to feel the embarrassment of his pity party and everyone feeling sorry for you.” 

“Why can’t you just be my date?” 

“Too obvious. Plus your whole family will be there, just do it or you know your parents will be in your case again. This ‘ secret man’ you’ve been seeing doesn’t exist and I think your Mom is starting to catch on.” 

He was right. Your parents come from a high status, as do your ex boyfriends, they were the reason you both had met and became friends in the first place. But, when your relationship ended you lied to them, it was working well until you got a call from your very upset mother telling you Jun showed up to your house with his family and a girl on his arm that wasn’t you. 

“Okay, then why can’t I choose my own date?” 

“The men you chose to quote on quote date are literally disturbing, I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Like that one dude you brought here last time? Whatever the fuck his name was literally was wearing a necklace vial of his own blood and claimed drinking your own urine and reusing water is the only way we can save the planet.” 

“Okay, but he was nice.” 

“He literally didn’t flush the toilet because he only went number one. That’s fucked, no.” 

“Can I at least, like at the very least have some approval over the men you match me with then?” 

“Maybe.” 

“ Kwanie, please. Come on, don’t make me use the what goes around card, it’s my turn” 

“No, it's absolutely my turn.” 

“Not true, you wasted it two months ago when I had to bail you out of that strange house party orgy thing by saying your dog died and coming in crying to a bunch of naked strangers. You owe me.” 

“Valid.” 

“How did you not realize what that party was anyway?” 

“This is not currently about my life failures, but yours my beautiful friend.” 

Laughing at Seungkwan's major mishap, you forgot to greet your dog, Lucky. She was waiting and crying at your feet, finally waking up from her sweet slumber to greet you. 

“Hello my baby, do we have to go outside?” 

“She went for a walk this afternoon, but after her dinner she crashed so she probably wants a walk. I can go if you want to change or shower.” 

“No it’s alright, I can take her, you're already in your pj’s and after my date I need a distress, want anything from the mart?” 

“Ice cream?” 

With a small nod you jumped up, taking the small curly creature in your arms and grabbing her harness before heading back outside into the warm spring air. 

Ten minutes into your evening stroll, you decided to sit on the green wooden bench overlooking the water, the same bench your grandmother always spoke about when you asked her the same story about how she and your grandfather got engaged. The gold plaque with their names rubbing off sitting behind your back. 

Suddenly you heard a man yelling from behind you, running through the green grass lit up with fluorescent lights. 

“Hey, Kkuma, no come back.” 

A small white dog came up behind Lucky sniffing her and starting to play, you noticed her cute hairclip and ran your hands through her fur. 

“God, I’m sorry. She normally doesn’t run off like that.” 

“It’s okay my dog lov-“ 

As you turned around to look into the round eyes of the owner, you were stunned with how beautiful he was. 

His dark hair pushed under a cap, a white t-shirt too big for his frame sitting beautifully in his toned shoulders, and his red sweatpants matching his shoes. 

The unfamiliar man was bending down now petting your precious pet and his own at the same time talking to them in sweet baby voices. 

“This is Kkuma by the way, and you are?” 

“Y/N” 

“Hi y/n, you’re so cute, you and kkuma can be best friends if your mom lets you.”

You let out a roaring laugh realizing he thought you had introduced your pet and not yourself.

“Oh sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just I’m y/n this is Lucky sorry my fault.” 

“Oh god, cool. Sorry Lucky, I’m Seungcheol. You can call me Cheol and this is Kkuma.” 

“Nice to meet you Cheol and Kkuma.” 

“You too. Look I know I just met you and all, but I’m new to the area. I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee and let the girls hangout sometime?” 

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Let me give you my number.” 

Seungcheol handed you his cell phone with a new contact page pulled up giving you full reign to type your name and number into his list. 

Handing the device back to him your fingers touched, creating an electric shock, to not like you to believe in signs, but for some reason it felt like the universe trying to tell you something. 

“Thank you, I’ve actually got to get going, but if you're free tomorrow would you want to grab coffee and hangout at the dog park?” 

“Yeah, totally. Just text me a time, we can just meet here. What kind of coffee do you drink? There’s a good spot by my apartment. I can just pick it up for us.” 

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. Just a black americano is cool or a cold brew whichever.”

“No fun I see.”

“How would you know that? Just because I don’t like sugary drinks doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.” 

“I don’t know, we will see.” 

“We will. I’ll catch you tomorrow girls.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” 

Seungcheol left the same way he came running through the grass with Kkuma on his heels, following him all the way back to their home. 

Strolling back down the pathway back to your apartment, you could help but feel butterflies in your stomach, you knew nothing about the man you just met other than his name and his cute dog, but there was a lot of unknown. 

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat, you unlocked the front door and watched Lucky sprint back into Seungkwan lounging on the couch, eating for the ice cream you had forgotten. 

“Where’s the snacks? Also why are you smiling like an idiot you’re freaking me out.” 

“We met a guy with his dog, a very cute guy might I add, who actually asked for my number and wants to get coffee tomorrow.” 

“ What the fuck, it’s late tell me he doesn’t live in the park?” 

“No he said he just moved to the area, he was clearly not a park dweller he had keys, and smelt amazing actually.”

“Smelling strangers? A new low even for you”

“Oh my god, fuck off.” 

Seungkwan pulled his phone out and opened various social media apps preparing himself for best friend stalking duties. 

“What’s his name?”

“Seungcheol, not sure about his last name, but he goes by Cheol and his dog was Kkuma.” 

“Great.. okay, found him I assume?”

“What the fuck, how? Let me see.”

“Eager aren’t we?”

“Fuck off?” 

Grabbing Seungkwan's phone from his grip, you scroll quickly through the new faces' social media.

“Yeah, it’s him.” 

“Okay, let me see. Wait, he's actually hot AND seems to have his own business?” 

“Oh my god.”

“Here, look” 

After the next few hours, you and your friend stumble on into your separate rooms preparing yourself for slumber, which never seems to reach you and before you know it dawn is creeping its way through your curtains, and your backup preparing yourself for a day with you and Lucky's new friends. 

Something about your energy was excitable and nearing frantic, you could wait to step outside into the fresh air with your pocket sized princess at your side, but it was still early. 

You had decided on pampering yourself for this morning, finding the need to make yourself up, you spread on your skin care with glee, drew perfect lines of eyeliner and strained your hair, pulling it up into a nice tight ponytail the hair tie matching the taupe tone of your sweat suit perfectly.  Before you knew it it was 9:45 a perfect time for you and Lucky to step outside the door. 

Placing her in her tote bag, you stepped inside of your favorite coffee shop, the light pink walls covered in photos and paintings, the smell of the espresso seemed sweeter. 

“Morning, y/n you look beautiful today. Would you like the usual?”

“Thank you, for me, yes. But can I also get a large americano, just black and he didn’t tell me iced or hot, so iced is good I think? Or maybe hot with a cup of ice on the side? If that’s okay?” 

“He? Did you finally start dating someone?” 

“Oh no, just a friend of mine. Seungkwan told you shit about me didn’t he?” 

“Yes. Sorry.”  

“No worries, can I actually get two of the plain croissants and two of the flower dog cookies too?” 

“No problem, it’ll be right out.” 

“Thank you.” 

Taking a seat next to the pick up counter you scrolled through the instagram of the boy you’re meant to be meeting, telling yourself it’s just to remember his face, but really it was to get a peek into what else he’s into or if he was single. 

“Y/N” 

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank you guys, see you tomorrow.” 

Picking up the paper coffee carrier and pastry bag, you waved goodbye to the baristas and briskly walked back to the bench you were at yesterday, your bench, spotting the back of Seungcheol’s head watching the water with his dog. 

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” 

“Oh, no problem. I just got here.” 

Placing your items down on the bench, you freed her bag and greeted Kkuma alongside her before taking your seat. 

“Here’s your coffee, I wasn’t sure if you wanted hot or iced so I got you a cup of ice too just in case, a croissant, and a little treat for your girl too.” 

“Wow thank you so much, hot is fine actually. How are you?” 

“Good, nervous. I mean it’s not every day you meet a stranger for coffee.” 

Seungcheol laughed, tipping his head back slightly before taking a bite of his pastry. 

“Sorry. I know it’s weird, you just seemed like someone I wanted to get to know, and Kkuma liked you so I figured you’re good people.” 

“Well, thank you. You too. Lucky generally does not like men other than my friend Seungkwan, my dad, and my ex-boyfriend so consider yourself special.”

“I do.”

“So what brought you to this neighborhood? Work, a relationship?”

“No relationship, but actually my business partner is from here. We decided to open our warehouse and stuff here because it’s much better than doing it in the city. We have a spirit company and we’re planning on opening a brewery and bar, so that’s why I’ve been working late nights. I guess it served me well, I made a friend on my first day.”

“You’ve only been here for a full day? What the hell? You already know the best spot in town. What kind of stuff do you guys make?”

“Beer and soju mainly, we’ve been working on it for five years now and are finally at a spot to open up and start selling it to people, which is cool. But what about you? What do you do?” 

“I’m a medical student actually, my parents are both doctors, I used to really want to be one too, but I don’t know, I don’t really have the same passion for it as I used to.”

“Well what would you do if you had the choice?”

“I always wanted to design stuff for dogs, start a rescue, anything like that. I got so happy seeing Kkuma as an accessory girl.”

“Yeah, she’s very stylish. I think you should go for it, you know? Why waste time becoming something for someone else and risk being unhappy just for their sake?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t even know how to start a business on my own, let alone tell my parents.”

“Hey, I didn’t either and look where it’s gotten me.”

You turned back to the water, staring into the calm blue waters, trying not to go into your own head. 

“You’re oddly inspiring, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you, y/n. You’re oddly sassy, I’ll give you that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“You already tried to clock me by saying I’m no fun because I drink black coffee and you said oddly inspiring like a back handed compliment. You definitely are, but I like it. 

“Good.”

You had continued your twice weekly hangouts with Kkuma and her dad for two weeks now, getting excited whenever the days roll around to see the two of them again, but you haven’t hung out once without them around, which made you wonder if your friendship or crush rather on this boy was only due to your dogs being friends themselves. 

Seungkwan tried setting you up on more and more dates with more and more duds, he was starting to lose hope himself, knowing that the one person he could set you up with was Seungcheol but he didn’t want to overstep. 

Strolling home from another failed connection, you decide to stop and have a beer before going home to give the dirty details to Seungkwan about who you had just met. 

Pulling open the tab of one of your drinks from your six pack, you took a deep breath and sat down, feeling your eyes welling up with tears. 

Another can opened as you went to take the first sip. A hand comes on your shoulders, whispering a boo in your ears. 

“What the fuck!” 

Jumping up from your seat the hand on your shoulder belonged to Seungcheol, the look in his eyes went from happy to concerned as he saw the small streaks of tears on your cheeks, you top now dribbled with spots of beer. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Want a beer?”

“Sure, thanks. I’m sorry I scared you, I thought you heard me behind you.”

“It’s alright, I was in my own world anyway. You look nice, where are you headed?”

“Soft opening for my bar actually, I texted you, but I figured you didn’t respond because you were busy.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I would’ve loved to come. I was a bit preoccupied on an awful fucking date.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“Well the good news is you technically didn’t miss it, it doesn’t start for another twenty minutes and you’re dressed very nice. It worked out. 

“Fuck I wish I paid more attention, I could’ve got you some flowers or something.”

“Next time. Will your roommate be alright taking care of Lucky?”

“Yeah of course, he knew I would be out tonight. I’ll text him just to be sure.”

“Cheers to hanging out without our kids?”

“Definitely.”

With that suddenly your awful night and doubts about your relationship with the raven haired boy went out the window. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” 

Seungcheol lent his arm out for you to wrap your own around, and you both stayed out that way for a few moments, before discarding your cans and walking the way to his new venture. 

“Here it is, you ready?”

“When you told me you were opening this up I thought you hadn’t even started? But it looks like it’s fully ready.” 

“Ah, well we had planned to wait a bit, but we’re getting too antsy, so here we are.”

“It’s beautiful, holy shit.” 

“Thanks, sit here, I’ll be right back.”

You took a seat on the green leather booth, looking around and taking in the ambiance of the custom lighting and ribbon like wallpaper, when a blonde gentleman walked over sitting down across from you. 

“Y/n? Right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you…”

“Jeonghan, I’m Cheol’s business partner.”

“Jeonghan, right. Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot.”

“Likewise, you’re so much prettier than Cheol let on actually.”

“Oh?”

Without a chance to interrogate the new face further Seungcheol walked back over to your table, setting down a few bottles of various spirits for you to try, including a couple of cocktails. 

“He didn’t scare you too much did he?”

“Not at all, he was just telling me actually how much prettier I am than you alluded to.”

“Jeonghan, don’t do that to her, come on. You know very well I told you she was pretty, I even showed you her instagram, you agreed.”

“I know, I just wanted to make you tell her yourself and my job is done, see you around y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As Jeonghan left the table you felt your cheeks growing with heat, unsure if it was the alcohol or the fact that Seungcheols friend made him confess he thought you were good looking. 

“Sorry about him, he’s a menace.”

“No need to be sorry, I have my own menace at home and I don’t mean my dog.”

Seungcheol laughed, pouring you a shot of his very own soju to taste, filling with anticipation hoping you enjoy the drink he’s serving you, looking for your approval became a big part of his mind lately. 

Lifting your glass up to his and clinking them together, the liquor poured down the back of your throat filling your mouth with sweetness and warmth. 

“Holy shit.”

“Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“No, very good. That’s actually delicious. It’s so clean and fresh.”

“That makes me so happy to hear.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Okay, beer next. This is just a standard sour, some lime and sea salt, sort of beach vibes.” 

“Sounds amazing, okay.”

Tipping your head back you sipped at the foamy top of the glass, savoring the flavors in your mouth. 

“I hate you so much.”

“What? Why?”

“Seungcheol, you're way too humble when you talk about your business, this shit is amazing. I said I hate you because I’m going to crave this shit and I’ll have to see you all the time.” 

“I thought you liked seeing me all the time?”

“You’re okay.”

“I have to say it’s cool to be here with you without the dogs, not that they distract too much, but they definitely take away giving you my full attention.”

“I mean how could they not, they’re cute as fuck,”

“So are you.”

“Wow, two drinks in Cheol and you’re already calling me cute? I wonder what else you’ll say the more you drink?"

“Technically we’re four drinks in, but I guess I remember the time I spent with you more than you do. Did those drinks on the bench mean nothing to you?”

“Oh fuck, I did forget. I guess technically I’m five drinks in then, catch up, bitch.”

You and Seungcheol spent the rest of the night being greeted by his friends, most of them already assuming who you were, letting you know that Seungcheol talks about you more than you realized. 

Feeling your blood alcohol content rising, you decided to take a step outside and refresh. 

The bell of the door opened up behind you, putting you face to face with his cherry lips once again, watching them light up a hand rolled cigarette to his lips. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to step out for a second. Are you good?”

“Very. Want a cig?”

“No, I’m good for now. Ask me again later.” 

“So will there be a later? You’re not ditching me now?”

“I’d never do that.”

“So, y/n does this maybe get me a chance to take you on a date? I’m kind of drunk so I’m feeling oddly bold.” 

“Is this not sort of a date?”

“I was hoping you thought so. Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Before we go on our date though, y/n. I have one final question?” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you still think I’m boring?” 

“A little.” 

Seungcheol grabbed your waist and spun you around, causing his perfectly rolled tobacco to fall on the sidewalk. 

Blissfully you were giggling and laughing under the red led lights of his bar. 

“Take it back.” 

“Nope.” 

“Please.” 

You looked into his puppy dog eyes and did something out of your comfort zone. Wrapped your hands loosely around his neck, placing a deepened kiss onto his lips. 

His mouth tasted of cigarettes and salt with a hint of vanilla from the lip balm he always had on him. 

“Is that a good ‘sorry I called you boring’ kiss?” 

“It’ll do for now.” 

“Good. They’ll be more where that came from.” 

“Promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” 

You and Seungcheol unwrap from each other, finding Jeonghan standing and  cheering in the window watching the two of you. 

“Can’t believe I got a hot date and a sister for Kkuma all in one.” 

“You lucky dog.” 

[cheesepeese1017]

more Cecil dating/marriage HCs (sfw)

Cecil's issues, how you deal with them, and the ways he compensates.

I feel like the old hag is super conservative about dating. He’s not a very eligible bachelor and he knows it. It’ll take a good three years before he considers dating, then another year to confirm and officialize it, then you’ll date for five more as he debates proposing towards the last two, THEN he gives you the Netflix password, and you finally get married at the decade mark.

Cecil’s style of attachment is avoidant 100%. He struggles immensely to bring down the self-protective walls he’s built up over the years even when you’re twenty years into marriage. In the weird middlemost lull of your initial dating phase, it often felt like he was just there to lick the icing off the cake. He wanted the humor, exclusivity, intrigue, and emotional crutch of a romantic relationship without putting the in the effort. When you got sick, he didn’t bother to come visit. Rather, he sent store-bought soup. When you told him about how a particular problem was slapping the shit out of you, he would listen stone-faced and offer painfully obvious advice on how to fix it, not understanding that you’d already figured it yourself and just wanted him to be there and nod along.

When you told him that, he snorted. “Go get a shrink if you need someone to listen to you that badly.”

Yeahhh, the seven year mark of dating Cecil was highkey insufferable. I’m sure at this point you were mostly staying for the money, and even that might not have been enough.

One night after another aborted date, you issued an ultimatum before he could leave. Either he started genuinely investing in the relationship or it was over because quote “I can’t stand the way you treat me like an emotional cumrag, Cecil.”

Firstly, pop off! Secondly, slay! He stood there blinking for a moment, jacket in hand. Then he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not in the ‘God that’s the fifth time Invincible screwed up today’ kind of way, but in the ‘No, no, you’ve got a point goddamnit’ kind of way.

“I don’t want this as a concession,” you continued. “I want it as a fullhearted effort. I want you to deal with all the aspects of this relationship that I have to deal with – the hard times as well as the good times – because it’s not fucking fair that you can walk it off like a high school fuck and I’m left bitter over a fifty year old.”

That got him good. You were too frustrated to laugh at how he gaped like a fish, then got more frustrated that you couldn’t find humor in it, that you should even have to be in this situation with a full grown man.

“No, you’re right. You’re right. I’m… I should’ve paid more attention to you.” He tried to play it cool but you could hear the waver in his voice. “I was busy with work, and I neglected to consider your end of the deal. I’m sorry.”

You nearly rolled your eyes, this was so overdue. “I accept. But it doesn’t mean shit if you don’t follow through.”

He shook his head heavily. “I will, I promise. God, I’m sorry to have put you through all that. What was I thinking?”

He actually sounded pained. “Hey, let’s not make it about you now, Mr. Director,” you half-joked half-warned. “Now go save the world.”

As he walked out, you slapped his ass for good measure. His aloofness and unavailability have stayed constant fixtures in your marriage, but both of you have learned to work around them as a unit, designating times to talk or eat or play or just be together. Later, he told you he appreciated you standing up to him.

“It’s a quality I appreciate, conviction.” You wiped the sweat off your brow with a gloved hand. Summer had descended on your garden with a vengeance. “Yeah, is that so?”

“Yeah,” he sipped lemonade, his shades mounted high. “It seems so.”

Don’t even mention work around him, he’ll explode. There’s about a dozen things for him to worry about at any given moment to the point where most nights for him are spent at the GDA putting out fires. He counts snatching three consecutive hours of sleep as a win. At least if you somehow have a baby, he’ll be ready for the night shift.

Speaking of babies, this man does not want a freaking baby. Last thing he can afford to worry about. Encourages you to get on the pill if possible and uses protection like a priest wears his cross.

It’s such a struggle to get him in anything but his formals. You guys regularly vacation in Geneva and Cabo and he SLAYS various bodies of water with his suit and tie. As a surprise one time you packed a loud Hawaiian shirt and khakis for him in his suitcase. As the days went on without a hint of flowery orange, you grew more and more dismayed. You found them in your luggage at the end of the trip with a note.

“Not in a million years.”

(You got him to wear it for your most recent birthday. You snagged a picture. He deleted it off your phone with his super secret government powers.)

(He keeps it on his own phone for your next birthday present. He knows how much it means to you)

Cecil doesn’t feel sorry for like 90% of the things he ‘has’ to do. But he really really really overthinks the rare things he does regret. That’s when the Immortal-age wine gets broken out from his private study retreat (man cave). He’ll duck and weave but when push comes to shove he goes to you like he always has, his sanctuary, his rock. On the unfathomably rough nights, when he gets lost in his own head and he stares bleakly at you like he’s stuck in the worst moments of his life, you’re the one who bears the burden of being the most important person in the GDA. It’s not Donald who washes Cecil’s unmentionables, it’s you.

A bath is in order. You worried he’d try to drown himself the first few times but it turns out he’s actually incapable of slumping that low because his shoulders automatically lock up from old scar tissue. His eyes widen when they do. You can tell it scares him a bit in this state to not have control over his body, and it seems he knows as well. He just watches you quietly as you shake unscented bubble bath solution into the tub, scatter sweet honeysuckle from the garden, check the warmth of the water, gently rub his aging body. He sighs from time to time.

You try not to let him drink too much; justify it with the risks of high temperatures and old age and alcohol and such, but it’s mostly because you’re worried about what would happen if he did.

After the bath, you help him out and wipe him down. It’s clumsily unromantic. His leg hair alone could reforest the Amazon. It’s funny because he does nothing but sit around all day and still manages to get the thickest callouses on his heels. You frequently joke about him strutting about in high heels to achieve this level of dermal encrustment, which earns you an exasperated groan. You quip back. You’d rather have this weariness than his self-inflicted horror.

Once, he spoke.

“It helps.” He mumbled thickly.

It startled you from where you were pressed against his front. “What?”

“The baths,” you felt his throat quaver as he swallowed. “They help.”

A heartbeat later, he finished with, “Thank you.” And pressed a weak kiss to your temple.

The next morning, Cecil is gone as usual. He leaves a Post-It dusted in perfume letting you know that the Whole Foods near you has a good deal on essentials and ‘the early bird is able to buy more eggs in this failing economy’. You snort and roll back over, lazing in the sun as you write a response which you snap to the fridge, ‘birds lay eggs grandpa’.

Mandatory Debbie appreciation!!!

Debbie is supremely used to dealing with grumpy, overworked, stubborn old men. She actually sends you care packages every Christmas as a thank-you for being Cecil’s emotional chew toy, and they always make you laugh because it’s filled with things only a mother would pack: high SPF sunscreen for the garden, cute notes tucked in between instant noodles, plenty of Asian snacks, buns, and chocolate, an outfit or jewelry she thought would look good on you, emergency care supplies (even though you’ve got emergency private care), a journal or two, good pencils/pens/erasers, and books she’s finished already and wants you to read so the two of you can discuss them at length. The ramen comes in handy when Cecil’s private chef gets his paid time off and the snacks readily disappear throughout the year.

In response, you schedule times to meet with her between her familial obligations and work. At first Cecil was more than a little combative about his spouse spending time with the divorcee of Omni-man – nothing against divorcees, he said, just Omni-man – but you wrestled him into agreeance by threatening to withhold cuddles. You and Debbie talk about mundane things that you both miss, back when the biggest issues in your lives were what to make for dinner. You talk about how hard it is to live in the periphery of superpowered spouses. Her life has been shattered since Nolan left, and your presence has begun to fill in those cracks. You get the feeling she enjoys your company as much as you enjoy hers.

Back to our regularly scheduled bitchy old man media!!!

This goes without saying but he’s extremely accommodating of your hobbies. Do you like writing? A fully set up typewriter, new laptop, and paperback Scrivener tutorial show up on your bed. He’ll sign you up for workshops if you want. Got a thing for skydiving? 24/7 private jet just for you, baddie. Do shelves upon shelves of Funko Pops please you? Fuck it, drain his paycheck.

Cecil will do damn near anything to keep you happy. He tries his best to spend as much time with you as possible even with the GDA’s vice grip on his balls. As you’ve seen before, he leaves notes for you around the house as an endearing way to communicate with you, even if the contents aren’t all that endearing. He encourages you to see your friends under the condition that he’s always got your location – otherwise your imperceptible absence bugs him all day.

He fantasizes about just dropping it. Running away with you into some corner of the world, a sundrenched treehouse hideout looking out over seas of rustling, rolling prairie grass and creeks cold enough to steal your breath, the same way as it was when he was young. Before he got tough, before he got smart. Just two people in love sharing air and laughter and dreams.

Then his alarm goes off or Donald barges into his office. Cecil comes unwillingly back to reality, a dog collared every which way.

here's something wrong with this man and i really, really like it.

[misahyochaeng]

“C'est la vie”

Jihyo x Fem!reader.

Chapter 1-(?)

Other chapters here:

tw: angst, cursing, mentions of violence, NOT PROOFREAD.

—

Jihyo tapped her pen on her dark colored meeting table, she had her legs cross as she analyzed the company stat numbers on her file paper.

She found herself at a high-stakes meeting about the company’s flagship luxury brand. The company in financial trouble due to increasing competition, declining market share, and a terrible PR scandal that left the whole company in practical shambles.

She radiated authority, control, that’s all she needed—all she wanted in life, she bit on her customized pen as she stared at her workers who had fear in their faces. Almost like a bomb was about to go off in seconds, one of them spoke up.

“Ma-Ma’am, last quarter's revenue dropped 15%. At this rate, we won’t make it through the next fiscal year without drastic measures." they stammered, fiddling with their note pages and scribbling down rather stressfully, trying to scan Jihyo’s face for any sign of approval.

“Stop staring” she bit back at the worker “S-sorry ma’am..” they jolted as they put their head down in shame, shoulders hung low. “We’ll cut back on unnecessary expenditures. Focus on high-margin products and reduce reliance on underperforming lines.”

Yoo Jeongyeon, a close friend and other worker in the meeting stood up, a bit of authority in her words; she knew Jihyo, she knew how important the company was for her and how stubborn she was— she retorted in a scolding tone. “That’s not enough, Jihyo. The competition is eating into our market share. Investors want results.” she stared into her eyes, Jihyo’s darkened and narrowed, her patience was wearing thin.

Jihyo cursed under her breath, taking a heavy sigh before speaking up. “Then we remind the market who we are. Revamp the flagship brand. Launch a bold campaign that no one can ignore. If we can dominate the luxury sector again, we’ll be sure to pull through”— she bit the inside of her cheek.

Another worker interrupted, Sana, the company manager, almost like a relative to Jihyo, “How do you plan to finance this ‘bold campaign’? The bank rejected our last request for additional credit.” she used air quotes.

Jihyo clenched her fist, gritting her teeth as she spoke up, voice husky with annoyance. “Fucks sake, we don’t need them. I’ll negotiate with new partners.” her pen snapped lightly from the tight grip she had on it, the ink bleeding into her palm.

That’s when someone slammed the door open, “Jihyo-ssi… about that,” her mother walked in the room, the atmosphere growing even more tense. “What the hell are you doing here” Jihyo uttered with resentment “Have you been overhearing this entire conversation? This is none of your business.”

Her mother slid a file to her end of the table, “That’s not the point. I want to talk to you about that... There’s an alternative. We’ve been in talks with the Beaumont Group.” Jihyo’s eyes widened, she tried maintaining her compuse, not allowing herself to be vulnerable infront of anyone.

“The Beaumont Group? The one we've been competing with for years?” Jihyo’s eyes widened as she closed herself off more, the pen still staining her hand—a quiet mark of the decisions she could no longer avoid.

“They’re willing to partner with us... under one condition.” Her mother took off her sunglasses, i look of worry and slight guilt in her eyes, Jihyo knew something was off. “And what’s that?” her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

Her mother hesitated. "A marriage. Between you and Y/N Beaumont. It’s non-negotiable."

Jihyo stood up abruptly, the disgusting name leaving her mother’s mouth was her last straw, and knowing she’d had to marry that putrid woman made her blood run warm, the pen finally snapping in half, it fell to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You want me to marry someone for the sake of this company?!”

“This isn’t just about you, Jihyo. It’s about saving what your family built” Jihyo’s mother muttered, this time more sternly.

Jihyo sighed, her coworkers stared at the commotion in fear.

“Get out.” she mumbled as everyone stood still.

“Get the fuck out!” everyone picked their bags in a rush as the room fell empty little by little. Jihyo’s mother sat down next to her

“Listen to me…”

—

Three clicks of a camera.

Multiple flashes.

“Y/N over here!”

“Move your hands more to the side”

“Perfect!”

“You’re so beautiful, Ms. Beaumont! A true doll!”

You smiled, moving to your best angle, adjusting your head and giving a picture perfect smile.

“That’s it, Y/N! Hold that pose—turn your head slightly to the left. Perfect. You’re killing it!”

You shifted effortlessly, your chin tilting just enough to elongate your neck, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile. You knew you were untouchable—at least, you liked to think so.

From the corner of the studio, your manager—and childhood friend—, Momo, approached hesitantly, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The lines of worry etched on her face stood in stark contrast to the polished, almost ethereal scene before her. “Love, we need to talk, it’s important.”

You didn’t flinch. Eyes stayed locked on the camera as if her voice had no place in your world, “Momo, dear, can’t you see i’m a bit busy right now? Unless it’s about booking Paris, it can wait.” you said inbetween your smile.

“This can’t wait, Y/N-ie.”

The photographer lowered his camera, a hint of irritation crossing his face. "Can we get five minutes? You’re ruining the shot here, ass-face.”

“First of all, who are you calling Ass-Face?! It better not be her cause the only ass-face you’re getting is yours when you see your paycheck after this shoot, cock sucker.” You exhaled sharply, the sound of your frustration cutting through the studio hum. With a flick of the wrist, you waved off the crew and turned on your heels, the hem of your gown trailing behind you like a stormcloud.

"Fine. Five minutes, Momoring, what is it?."

You said as to stepped off the set, towering in stilettos, every inch of you still radiating the effortless control of a goddess. Yet, as you faced Momo, the faintest flicker of annoyance darkened your expression.

Momo hesitated, looking anywhere but directly at you. She ran a hand through her hair, the tension palpable. "Your parents have been in talks with the Park Family. They’ve come up with a... plan to strengthen both families’ positions."

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “What kind of plan..” a pit grew in your stomach as your anxiety grew. “An arranged marriage. To Park Jihyo."

For a moment, you blankly stared, the words sinking in like a hollow stone dropped into a body of water. Then, you laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the studio like glass shattering. "You’re joking, Momoring. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard." you slapped her shoulder playfully.

Momo didn’t laugh.

"You’ve met Jihyo before. At the charity gala last year."

Your laugh cut off abruptly. Eyes narrowing as the memory surfaced—Jihyo, stiff as a board, barely speaking, radiating cold disinterest; that was until the most expensive luxury piece of her brand snapped off your neck, falling to the floor and shattering in pieces. The argument you had blared your ears, and tears swelled in your eyes as you thought about it again.

"Oh, that Jihyo. The one who spent the whole night glaring at their phone and avoiding eye contact, until i ‘broke’ her shitty brand necklace!? You’re telling me I’m supposed to marry them? I didn’t even fucking break it!!" Your voice cracked slightly at the end, the weight of the word "marry" pressed down on you like a stone.

Momo tried to speak up, a hand caressing your side to comfort you, "I know this isn’t what you want, but—"

"What I want? You think I want any part of this? I don’t even know them, Momo!"

You ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of you that even Momo looked startled.

"Y/N, this is bigger than you. It’s about your family, your legacy—"

You pulled Momo close, going to whisper in her ear, voice breaking slightly, "It’s always about them, isn’t it?" Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out your body. For once, you didn’t have a quick retort or biting comment. You looked down at your shaky hands, noticing the faint smudges of makeup from touching your face, you wiped them on your gown without caring.

"I need a minute." Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back to the set. The photographer called out to you, but his voice barely registered. You slipped back into position, forcing a smile onto your face. The camera flashed, capturing her perfection.

But in that moment, you felt anything but perfect.

[cosmicfandomvegan]

The love between Kakashi and Obito is real:

1. Kakashi's Entire Value System Was Rewritten by Obito. That’s not normal. That’s transformative. Obito dies and Kakashi changes his entire life, ideology, and identity based on a single speech—then quotes it for decades. Like... yall, that’s not just grief, that’s bonded for life.

2. Obito’s Entire Identity Revolves Around Kakashi.

Throughout Shippuden, when Obito reflects on his past, Kakashi is always present in his memories. Even his mask, his goals, his trauma—it all links back to losing Rin and clashing with Kakashi. And yet, during the war, when everyone is calling him evil, he still seeks Kakashi’s understanding (no one else's), debating philosophy, showing vulnerability, and expressing how much he was hurt. If Kakashi truly meant nothing to him at that point in time, he wouldn't waste his breath.

3. The Forgiveness Was Immediate and Unquestioning. Obito started the war, killed their friends, and helped in the murder Kakashi’s father-figure (Minato)—and Kakashi STILL forgave him faster than anyone in the series. That’s not logic. That’s love. Romantic or not, that is soulmate-level loyalty.

4. Obito Imagined an Alternate Universe Where They Could Be Together Forever. His Infinite Tsukuyomi dream was literally just Kakashi and Rin alive, chilling with him. He imagined saving the world, sure, but his heaven was just Kakashi. And Rin. Forever. On loop. //dies//

4. "I'll Be Your Eyes." Obito gives Kakashi his eye before dying. Like some kind of symbolic marriage proposal if you squint a little. And Kakashi cries over him, behaving like a widow, and keeps his memory alive every day, in tiny but important ways.

5. That Ending Scene. That wasn’t just bros. That was the “we could’ve had a life together” moment. The what if. The goodbye. The "I would’ve stayed by your side forever if you hadn’t gone down this path" type of heartbreak.

7. “You remind me of myself.”

Kishimoto mirrors the Naruto/Sasuke dynamic with Obito/Kakashi. The obsessive bond, the “I’ll bring you back” arc, the emotional entanglement—Obito is the Sasuke, and Kakashi is the Naruto in reverse.

But Why Didn’t It Go Full Romance?

Because shonen rules. That's literally it. lol

TL;DR

Is there a canon romance? No. Just strong brotherly I'd-die-for-you-in-a-heartbeat-even-if-you-destroy-the-world vibes. (Because I love you, but no homo. 😭)

Is there a clear undercurrent—a vibe, a what if, an intensity that goes beyond platonic friendship? Yes. Hell yes. Absolutely.

Whether you ship it or not, it’s undeniable that Kakashi’s love for Obito is the deepest, most enduring connection of his life. And Obito loved him back (dude sacrificed himself unasked, twice...)

[ozzgin]

Yandere werewolf is such a bbg if we ignore the fact that he killed almost an entire village.. such a bbg behaviour. I bestow you a kiss on forehead <3

The man has a lot of pent up anger. On the bright side, he’s found a better outlet now that he has Reader. Why ravage a village when he can ravage the small, horny human instead?

Reader just saved Lord knows how many people from being viciously murdered and got laid while doing so. To quote an old comment I saw on the Arranged Marriage story, another win for the monster fucking community. 👑

[sagevalleymusings]

An Overly In-depth Analysis of Spinning Silver Many Years Late

`When I first started writing this in 2022, I had recently finished reading Naomi Novik’s Spinning Silver for the first time. I wanted to remember a particular quote in the book, and stumbled upon some reviews from 2019, when the paperback was released.

The quote I was looking for: You will never be a Staryk Queen until you make a hundred winters in one day, seal the crack in the mountain, and make the white tree bloom.

The reviews: 

…read Temeraire and Uprooted at least ten times, but couldn’t reread this. The relationships between the two main men and two main women are abusive. Certainly, there’s trauma involved, but it’s not a woman’s job to heal men’s trauma through sacrificing themselves…

…I adored Uprooted (had some issues, but still loved it completely), however Spinning Silver just felt off – not as magical, terrible “romances”, too many POVs, etc. All in all, it just wasn’t as gripping. I liked Miryem’s character, but the other two protagonists were very bland “strong female characters…”

I hate this. I hate this so much. I hate this enough that I’m going to write an excessively long post defending Spinning Silver for three years. For everyone that doesn’t want to read a masters-student dissertation of an essay or who hasn’t read the book yet and wants to go into this spoiler free, here’s the TL:DR version. There are no romances in this book. The two reviewers above are trying to apply the enemies to lovers tropes they loved so much in Uprooted to a grimm fairy tale about politics, feminism, and Jewish persecution. There are no romances in this book. This is hard to grasp, because two of the main characters are married, and that marriage is a major part of the plot, but no one in those marriages including the men wanted the marriage in the first place. To call it “abusive” is to read modern expectations onto a historical political marriage that, while not inaccurate, fundamentally misunderstands the point and the context in which the story takes place. 

Also, I would recommend the audio book, if you have trouble with multiple points of view. They are all in first person, and although it starts out with just two, we add more and more POV until there’s 5 or 6 total. The reader Lisa Flanagan does an excellent job distinguishing POVs which will make this aspect of it easier. Read the book, particularly the audiobook. But if you are reading this book looking for romance, you’re going to be disappointed. It’s still one of the best if not the best re-imagined fairy tale I’ve ever read. Here’s an excessively long post about why.

The Introduction

The very first thing we’re introduced to is Miryem as our narrator explaining that stories aren’t about “how they tell it” but getting out of paying your debts. So how do “they” tell it? The introductory story is about a girl having sex out of wedlock who is left in the lurch because the “lord, prince, rich man’s son” has a duty. 

It’s about saving yourself for marriage. Even in how “they” tell it, who the man is doesn’t matter and no one is in love. Your duty to your family comes first. 

This story is not about romance. The story this story is subverting is not about romance. Even in how “they” tell it, romance isn’t a good thing. 

In actual fairy tales, not Disney princess stories, romance often has nothing to do with it. These are stories for little children to get them to obey their parents. Rumpelstilskin is about ingenuity and perseverance. Even in a story like Cinderella, the romance is entirely incidental - the story is about hard work, strength through adversity, and moral superiority. The marriage itself isn’t romantic in the sense that the two main characters fall in love. These stories are older than the modern concept of love. For authors with a strong sense of familial duty and nationalism, writing about something as subversive as romantic love would go against their goals.

This is the setting that Spinning Silver takes place in. It’s a modern fairy tale set in a regency era. The fairy tale Miryem tells in our introduction paints romance as a bad thing. You marry out of duty. 

But Miryem from the start tells us that filial duty isn’t what the stories are really about. They’re really about paying your debts. Within the first 2 minutes of this book, it’s already told us three times that this story isn’t about romance. Once in the setting of a fairy tale about filial duty, once in the denial of how they tell it, and once in the revelation of the real interpretation.

The Power of Threes

The power of repetition and specifically of threes comes up over and over again in the book. In many cultures across the world, three has special significance. From the fairy tale side of it, Rumpelstilskin itself contains layers of threes within threes. Rumpelstilskin makes a bargain for the miller’s daughter on the third night. The queen has three days to guess Rumpelstilskin’s name, and guesses three names each day.

It’s likely that these repetitions of threes in fairy tales come from the Christian backdrop they were written in, which at times focuses on the third path in the middle of two binaries, or the significance of building power, though it’s difficult to make any sweeping, central claims about why three is significant because fairy tales are so widespread across countries, time, and religion. But it’s important that Novik is writing this from a Lithuanian Jewish perspective, so there’s a subtle shift in the interpretation and meaning of the rule of threes. I’m not Jewish, so what specifically this is as grounded in Novik’s ancestry is something I can’t be clear on.

During my research, one explanation that seems to resonate with the symbolism of this book is a Chabad interpretation. From chabad.org: The number three symbolizes a harmony that includes and synthesizes two opposites. The unity symbolized by the number three isn’t accomplished by getting rid of number two, the entity that caused the discord, and reverting to the unity symbolized by number one. Rather, three merges the two to create a new entity, one that harmoniously includes both opposites. 

Lithuanian Judaism is majority non-Hasidic, so this is just one tangentially-related explanation of the importance of threes. I’m sure there’s other interpretations I’m missing because I can’t possibly begin to know where to look. But I like this explanation for grounding the story because I think it fits well with the symmetry of our protagonists and their husbands (or lack thereof), and the way the story is building to their creating something new.

So when the very first thing we are shown within the first two minutes of the book is a thrice denial of romance, we need to take Naomi Novik seriously when she says that the book is about getting out of paying your debts. Or, at the very least, this is what Miryem thinks the book is about. The way in which the characters grow and change does reveal some of the original cynicism in this thesis, but ultimately this is a story about what we owe each other, and how that debt comes for us if we don’t pay it. And on top of that, Miryem describes the love interest of the miller’s daughter as “lord, prince, rich man’s son” (3 possibilities). Who this love interest is doesn’t matter in the slightest.

All this to say that within the first two minutes of the book, if you are still reading this expecting a romance, you aren’t listening to the author.

Jewish Heritage

Also within the first few minutes of the book, we learn that Miryem is a Jewish moneylender in a fantasy version of Russian-occupied Lithuania some time in the Middle Ages. I’m not going to get too deep into this. I am, as I said, not Jewish, and these characterisations edge very close, on purpose, to deeply anti-Semitic tropes. But understanding what Novik is saying about her heritage and her family’s persecution is critically important to understanding the book. 

Naomi Novik is a second-generation American. She’s Lithuanian Jewish on her father’s side, and Polish Catholic on her mother’s side. In many ways, Spinning Silver has been treated as a spiritual successor to Uprooted. Uprooted is set in a fantasy version of Poland, Spinning Silver is set in a fantasy version of Lithuania. Both stories are about Novik’s heritage, and the stories from her ancestors. Spinning Silver is a lot more obvious about this, but there’s a non-zero amount of Catholicism in the way the Dragon structures his magic, and in the older folk magic that lives in the trees.

Spinning Silver is much more explicit, and Novik has said as much, that Miryem’s family is supposed to reflect her father’s family and his experience as a Lithuanian Jew.

Our book takes place in a fantasy version of Lithuania in 1816. That’s a very specific date I’ve picked out for a book that otherwise appears to be ‘the ambiguous past.’ How did I come to that conclusion?

I did a little bit of research to try and determine when and this is what I came up with: Lithuania didn’t exist until the 13th century. Lithuania didn’t have a tsar on the throne until Russian imperialism in the late 1700s. Restrictions on Jews’ ability to work in craft or trade began around 1100 in Europe, and began to wane around 1850. In Lithuania, this fluctuated depending on the specific time period, so we can a little further narrow the timing down to after the mid 1600s but before the 1850s, probably during early Russian imperialism. Leadership is religious, either Eastern Orthodox or Catholic, who at the time believed that charging interest was sinful, so employed members of other religions, specifically Jews, to do their money lending for them. Because of the association with sinful, dirty work, and previous oppression as a religious minority, this led to a significant rise in anti-Semitism, coming to a head with a series of Jewish pogroms in Russia from (officially) 1821-1906, leading millions to flee and thousands of deaths. So we can narrow our estimation down to about 80 years, between 1820-1900.

Then my historian partner started reading it with me and exclaimed, "is that a reference to the Year Without A Summer" so actually 1816, but you can also see how easy it is to narrow that date down even as an amateur just by examining the exact flavor of anti-Semitism in the text. Which is why, even after I learned about the year Without A Summer, I left my aimless searching in.

Most audience members probably don’t know this much detail about history, but Spinning Silver is very clearly written with an audience understanding of this history in mind. We’re supposed to see the rise in anti-Semitism throughout the book which adds a layer of tension because at any moment, the politics in the wider world and rising anti-Semitism might catch up to our protaginists, and Miryem and her entire family could be killed. 

That’s it, book over. Anti-Semitism sweeps through, destroys everything it touches, and none of the clever problem-solving of any of our heroines matters. It’s over.

This dark possibility looms over the story like a storm cloud the entire time. The most explicit reference is when Miryem uses the tunnel her grandfather dug.

“I pulled it up easily, and there was a ladder there waiting for me to climb down. Waiting for many people to climb down, here close to the synagogue, in case one day men came through the wall of the quarter with torches and axes, the way they had in the west where my grandfather’s grandmother had been a girl.”

The fear of persecution isn’t just something of the past. It is something that people in this community are actively thinking about and planning contingencies for.

We’re five pages in and I’ve barely gotten through the first five minutes of the book. I could do this for literally the rest of the book if I wanted to - five minutes later, Miryem as narrator starts talking about a festival at the turn of the seasons between Autumn and Winter, which she calls “their festival” and resents the townspeople for it because they’re spending money they borrowed from Panov Mandelstam on it. Meanwhile, Panov Mandelstam is lighting a candle for the third day of their own festival, when a cold wind sweeps in and blows the candles out. Her father tells them it’s a sign for bed time instead of relighting them, because they’re almost out of oil. Panov Mandelstam is reduced to whittling candles out of wood because, “there isn’t going to be any miracle of light in our house.” I didn’t catch this the first time around, because I’m an ignorant goyim I wasn’t thinking about this book as an explicitly Jewish fairytale. But Novik is obviously making a reference to Channukkah, and the fact that Panov Mandeltam doesn’t relight the candles for Channukkah is powerfully unsettling. And then on the eigth day, Miryem takes up her father’s work and collects the money he’s been neglecting, and there is light in their house for Channukkah after all, but the miracle is hard work, not magic. The entire book is like that, layers upon layers of meaning with every sentence. Subtle clues before the curtain is pulled back. I want to teach a seminar using only this book on the definition of “show, don’t tell.”

Good and Evil

But at some point I’m going to have to move on, and so let’s talk about trauma, poverty, and morals.

Novik introduces the townsfolk as Miryem sees them, but not all the townsfolk. Each person introduced by name winds up coming back later, enacting some kind of harm. But it seems to me that this harm is foreshadowed in each instance.

First, we’re introduced to Oleg. Oleg’s wife is described as being Oleg’s “squirrelly, nervous wife.” This isn’t the only time it occurs to me to wonder if Oleg beats his wife, but I think the description is intentional. Oleg eventually tries to murder Miryem, for explicitly anti-Semetic reasons, but I think this violence is foreshadowed in the way we see him interact, in brief flashes, with his wife and son, and how they’re always described as being a little withdrawn, a little afraid of Oleg, and not very sad that he’s gone, except in the part where this is going to be a financial burden on the family.

Next introduced is Kajus. Kajus who had borrowed two gold pieces to establish himself as a krupnik brewer (the krupnik he brews would lead to Da’s alcoholism). His solution to Miryem banging on their doors is to offer her a drink. Clearly getting people hooked and indebted to him is a tactic he’s used to success more than once. 

The last person introduced in this sequence is Lyudmila. Again, we are given a set of three. Lyudmila is different. Lyudmila never borrowed money. She doesn’t have a direct reason for despising the Mandelstams. Or at least, she shouldn’t. And yet, her distain jumps off the page. Lyudmila is the quiet, insidious voice spreading lies and rumors about the Jewish family in town. Her violence is not explicit. But it is the same.

The last person we’re introduced to, given an entire separate section to his own, is Gorek.

Good and Evil part 2 - is Wanda’s Da an evil character?

Gorek, who’s better known for the rest of the book as Wanda’s Da, is also introduced to us first as a borrower trying to get out of paying his debts. Gorek is a violent drunk. This is established repeatedly. Gorek is not a good man.

But is he evil? Certainly he seems to be the antagonist of Wanda’s story, and there’s no love lost when he dies. But I think it’s interesting that even Gorek, in many respects, is sympathetic. He’s not very different from any of the other men in this town. Oleg is violent. Kajus profits off the many people in the town that drink their troubles away. Gorek is not uniquely awful even if he is particularly awful. And even for Gorek, the text takes pains to remind us that he buried his wife and five children. His life is hard. Their plot of land is sat next to a tree where nothing will grow. How much rye did they waste before they learned that lesson? And when Mama was alive, they had enough to eat in the winter, but only because she was very, very careful to divide everything up. On his own, Gorek couldn’t make that math add up, even before he started drinking his troubles away. Gorek is facing a life where unless something drastic changes, he and his children will slowly starve to death, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

So he sells his daughter for one jug of krupnik a week. Gorek has made his bed; he doesn’t want to keep living. He’s drinking himself into the grave he dug for his wife. But in the meantime he does still need to take care of his children.

I don’t say this to forgive his actions; I do think Gorek’s actions are unforgivable. Some people cannot be redeemed, they can only be defeated, and Gorek is one of those people. But at the end of the book, Wanda and Sergei and Stepon still bury him when they go back to Pavys, next to the rest of their deceased family.

Gorek is a product of his environment, and that environment is cruel and cold. The people it produces are by and large cruel and cold. No one in the town bothers to bury Gorek. No one stops him from hitting his wife and children. There’s nothing at all strange, according to the rest of the town, about his selling his daughter for drink.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Gorek is not evil, but I also think that this book is taking pains to present with sympathy the kind of environment which creates people like Gorek. Like our Staryk king, who was entirely prepared to force himself onto Miryem even though neither one of them wanted it. Like Mirnatius, who did not himself commit any acts of violence, but who was perfectly willing to benefit from the violence being committed with his face. The world is cold and cruel, and it is very, very easy to become cold and cruel from it.

The Power of Threes revisited: Miryem’s magic

Even Miryem says that she’s had to be cold and cruel to be their family’s moneylender. We don’t see very much of this. But she does after all agree to have someone work in her house for essentially no pay. We don’t necessarily realize it, because it comes at our own turning point, but Miryem has to learn empathy just as much as her Staryk king does. When she agrees to allow Flek and Tsop and Shofer to help her with her trials.

I read Novik’s new anthology Buried Deep and Other Stories and in that collection she says it’s a line from the Staryk king about Miryem’s magic that made her want to expand what was originally a short story into a full book. “A power claimed and challenged and thrice carried out is true; the proving makes it so.”

Fairy tales are about hard work. This line from the Staryk king isn’t just a way of constructing magic, it’s just literally true. If I get a job as an accountant, despite not knowing anything about accounting, and I don’t fail, then by the end I will be an accountant. I love this, that the magic in Spinning Silver is just hard work.

Miryem’s magic is another rule of threes. The Staryk king challenges her to turn silver into gold three times, to make the magic true, and she does it – with mundane means, through ordinary hard work, but it’s done. She barters freedom for a day by turning three storehouses to gold, and she does that too – with wit and hard work, but it’s done. The Staryk king challenges her that she’ll never be a Staryk queen, unless she can do three feats of high magic, and she does each one. Or rather, each one gets done, and Miryem has a hand in it. But the first feat of high magic requires the assistance of one other person. The second – the assistance of three. Much like each trial before it grew in magnitude – first 6 coins, then 60, then 600 – so too do all three stories grow in magnitude. It would stand to reason then that the third test of magic would require at least three upon three people. But Miryem is not the only protagonist in this story.

Circling back to Romance: Arranged Marriage is Bad That’s Obviously The Point

In addition to the rule of threes woven repeatedly in Miryem’s story, the entire story itself is a Triptych. One story is the story of the girl who could turn silver into gold. One story is the story of the children who find themselves lost in the woods and stumble onto a witch’s house full of rich food. One story is the story of the duke’s misfit daughter who marries a prince. They are all of them different fairy tales. And at the end of the story, they all come crashing into each other. The white tree belongs to Wanda’s story, bought with six lives.

Three sets of three people in each story

There are many, many examples of threes woven throughout this story, but it was only three years into writing this essay that I realized that the marriages themselves are a set of three as well. After all, only Irina and Miryem get married, right?

But Wanda is offered a marriage proposal. In a story with less magic, Wanda would have married Lukas, and been yet another generation of poor, miserable women that died in childbirth. But Wanda says no, a thing entirely unheard of in this era. Women didn’t say no to marriages arranged by their fathers.

And at the end of the story, Wanda is still unwed, with absolutely no indication that this will ever change. Wanda’s agency, this rejection of marriage, is treated with the same weight as the marriages themselves. Saying no is just as valuable as Irina’s political marriage, or courting for a year and a day and marrying for love, as Miryem eventually does.

And Miryem does marry for love. She originally has no choice in the matter, but that contract is rendered void when the Staryk king is forced to let her go. We don’t see the year’s worth of courting because it’s not relevant to the story because this is not a romance but I really don’t want to lose this point because I think Wanda’s story sometimes gets forgotten precisely because it doesn’t have a marriage. But Novik is explicit about this through Wanda’s story. Irina had no choice, not really. So it never occurred to her to say yes or no. She kills the man who sought to marry her – Chernobog wanted to marry Irina, not Mirnatius. Irina murders her would-be husband, Miryem divorces hers, and Wanda says no. Yes, the arranged marriages in this book are abusive – Novik knows that and tears them down one by one and rebuilds them into something with far more agency, that our women protagonists chose.

The Story

So we’ve come all this way and learned that Spinning Silver is not a romance, not really. The married couples in the story do come to love each other, after a fashion. But that love blooming was not the point. The point was…

Well it was about getting out of paying your debts, wasn’t it? Novik told us very explicitly that it was about getting out of paying your debts right on the first page. It’s not how they told it. But she knew.

Miryem spends the entire book making her fortune from nothing. Wanda takes over the work from her. Stepon takes over after Wanda. The debt that the town owed to Josef was a major thread over and over again throughout the whole story. Oleg tries to kill Miryem over it. The Staryk king seeks Miryem’s hand because of it. Raquel had been sick because their dowry had been spent. Wanda comes to their house to pay off the debt. Nearly everything in the book can be traced back to the debt against Josef Mandelstam.

And then, in Chapter 25, Josef sends Wanda with many letters to the people of the town forgiving all the remaining debt that was owed. The people of Pavys get out of paying their debt.

But… how do they get out of it? Not through any trickery of their own, not really. There is a stated implication that fear was a big part of it. Sending Wanda with letters of forgiveness would mean that they would not be harried or harmed while they were wrapping up affairs in the town. But Josef also doesn’t need the money. They have a home of their own, many hands to make light the work, blessings from the Sunlit Tsar to establish their place in the world, and blessings from the Staryk king that will ensure their safety even through a hard winter. They want for nothing, so they do not seek to reclaim what is theirs.

And in a way they got all those blessings through paying their debts, but in a way they did not. The Staryk way of paying their debts teaches us something very important about what a debt really is. The Staryks don’t keep debts. They make fair trade. And if they can’t make fair trade, there is no deal. Or at least, they say they make fair trade. They didn’t trade for the gold they steal from the Sunlit world, though I suspect they would argue that the pain that is caused to the people of that world is trade for their putting a monster on the throne. And Miryem rightly points out that they had been raiding for gold and raping the people of Lithvas long before Chernobog sat on the throne. They make fair trade. But only with those they view as their equals.

But the Sunlit world is even worse. The Tsar doesn’t make fair trade. He spends magic like water and steals the lives of people that didn’t bargain with him to pay for it. In the Sunlit world, people take as much as they can with as little return as they can get away with. Not everyone, of course. But it is of particular note here that in this story, Jews are vilified particularly because they ask for fair trade in return. And the people they loan money to don’t want to give it to them.

But fair trade can only go so far. The Staryk king is trying to make a road back to his kingdom, and he can’t, because there is nothing of winter that they can find in the warm summer day. And he cannot take Stepon’s white tree seed, because it was bought with six lives, and given to Stepon alone, and there is nothing that the Staryk king can barter with that would measure against a mother’s love. But Stepon wants to see the white tree grown, so they find a way to plant it. Irina digs hard soil in apology, and the Mandelstams sing a hymn to encourage growth, and although none of this was done for the Staryk king, he still uses the work to create his road.

Sometimes, fair trade isn’t enough, and one must trust that it is to the benefit of all to aid each other.

The truest way of getting out of paying your debts… is to abolish the concept of debt.

That’s right, motherfuckers, eat your kings and burn the banks to the ground, love is the anti-capitalist manifesto we made along the way!

This section was going to be a little bit of a joke, but the more I think about it, the more it really isn’t. Miryem’s magic makes wealth meaningless in its magnitude. Wanda’s magic is having food and shelter to spare. And Irina’s magic is having just leadership that rules for the people, not for power. Novik’s fairytale ending is collectivism. She tells us three times, through three stories of hardship. And it isn’t even about becoming a princess, because Wanda marries no one, and lives in a magical house that seems to always have everything they need. So long as they do what they can to take care of it.

The real magic is community. Doing for yourself what you can, and reaching your hand to another when you can spare, so that they might do the same. And so long as we all do that together, the darkness cannot come in to feast.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Faith (Soap / Reader)

CW: Catholic!Soap, religious guilt, dry humping, vaginal and anal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex, overstimulation, edging?

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 3.2k

John McTavish was a good man. He went to church every Sunday from the moment he left the womb. He could sing every hymn from memory. He could quote passages with ease. It was almost as if the text was etched into his mind. 

John McTavish was a good man. Even as he left home and joined the military, even as his faith wavered, he’d always say his nightly prayers just as his mother instructed him. He kept a cross over his heart, held up by a thin silver chain. It was an heirloom of sorts, entrusted into his calloused palms. 

John McTavish was a good man. The type of man who gave me flowers on the first date. He opened the door for me, pulled out my chair for me, and draped his jacket over my shoulders when a chill settled into the night air. Despite my persistence, he footed the bill for dinner, sliding his card toward the server. As he walked me to my apartment, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. A gentle goodbye for a gentle man. 

John McTavish was a good man. He zipped my dress up for me, letting his hands settle on my waist. He cooed soft affirmations by my ear. Gentle reassurances I’d be perfect. I laced my fingers with his as we sat in the pews. His mother smiled at me as the priest started his sermon. As worries flooded my head; how do I read sheet music, when do you kneel, what prayers do I say; he simply squeezed my hand.

John McTavish was a good man. A good, God-fearing man. And an obedient one at that too. I held my tongue when he said he was saving himself for marriage. He held his when I told him I wasn’t a virgin. And while he obeyed, he did everything in his power to skirt around the rules. 

John McTavish was a good man. A man who would let his fingers wander to my cunt as we sat on the couch. A man who would eat me out for hours if I didn’t stop him. A man who would rut his leaking cock against my drenched underwear, threatening to slip inside of me when he slid under the thin fabric. But he never did. 

John McTavish was a good man. A man who I loved. But I needed more. I could feel a hollow pit in my stomach whenever he pulled his fingers out of me. I found myself grinding away on his tongue, hoping for more. 

John McTavish was a good man, but I needed him to fuck me.

The soft clicking of the lock drew my attention to the front door. With a grunt, he pushed the mahogany door open. Two olive green duffel bags hung over his shoulders. Faded scribbles in permanent marker adorned the canvas. I rose, stepping toward the man. A grin crept across his face. His toned arms wrapped around my body, pulling me tight to his chest. His hoodie smelled faintly of diesel and sweat. It captivated me, drawing me further into his warm embrace. 

“Missed y’ goddamnit,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to my cheek. He pushed his foot against the door, shutting it with a loud thud. I pulled away, just enough for his blue eyes to meet mine. He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip, urging me to open up for him. I parted my lips, whining into his mouth when his tongue slipped into my mouth. 

He took a step forward, guiding my body with his large palms. His fingers dug into my hips as he inched me backward, not daring to break our kiss. The couch brushed against the backs of my legs. With a soft grunt, he pulled away, leaving a silver trail of saliva between our parted lips. 

“Missed you so much.” He eased me back onto the couch, slotting himself between my parted legs. “Missed how you feel against me.” I caught my lip between my teeth as he slowly rocked his hips against me. His thick sweats against my thin sleep shorts. 

“Someone’s eager,” I smirked, gripping the hem of his hoodie. In one movement I pulled it from his body. My eyes raked over his toned chest. The silver chain and cross rested against his sternum. 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me.” He spoke through heavy breaths as he rutted against my core. His palms slid up my sides and beneath my oversized shirt- his shirt. He bunched the fabric up, tugging it over my head. Without another thought, he tossed it aside.

His blue eyes locked onto my bare body, drinking every bit of my frame in. My back arched off of the couch when he brought his fingers to my chest. He pinched my nipple between his fingers, watching as I squirmed beneath him. It was methodical. He knew every inch of me at this point. Every little button he could press to get me riled up. 

The sweatpants were too much of a barrier between our hips. I needed to feel his stiffening cock. Needed to feel the damp spot of pooling precum in his boxers. 

“Take the sweats off, please,” I whined, rolling my hips against his. He shifted his weight, using his free hand to shove the thick cotton over his hips. My eyes latched onto his cock, straining against his thin boxers. So hard he must’ve been aching. 

He leaned back in, skin hot against my own. He rutted his stiff cock between my thighs. His eyelids, framed by thick brown lashes, fluttered closed. Hushed noises fell from his plush parted lips. As if moving on their own, his hips rocked at a steady pace. With every brush of his cock against my throbbing clit, he pulled a whine from my chest. My head spun, want pooling in my core. I needed more. Craved it like air. 

“Johnny,” I whined, looping my arms around the back of his neck. He brushed his fingers over my clothed core, laughing at the desperation I exhumed. 

“You’re dripping,” he said with a smirk. His sharp canines sunk into his bottom lip. “Pretty pussy needs some attention, huh?” He tucked his fingers into the crotch of my shorts, forcefully tugging the fabric to the side. The cold air of the apartment met my heated cunt. I sucked in air through my clenched teeth, tensing at the anticipation. 

He circled two fingers around my clit. His blue eyes remained locked on me, unwavering in their intensity. Every twinge of my eyebrow, and scrunch of my nose, he took in. My squirming and babbling only seemed to spur him on. I couldn’t help my reactions, not when I’d been thinking about this moment for weeks. 

His fingers slid down my core until they reached my entrance. I pursed my lips, holding back the moans that swelled in my chest as he slipped two digits inside of me. My cunt fluttered around his fingers with a lewd squelch. 

“Suckin’ me in,” Johnny cooed beside my ear. His stubble brushed against my cheek, tickling my skin. 

My vision grew unfocused, fading into a haze of static. With every thrust of his fingers, he ground his palm against my clit. My thighs squeezed around his waist, pulling him closer to my aching core. 

“Wanted it bad, eh?” He said with a laugh. With a. Wet pop, his fingers slipped from me. Furrowing my brows, I watched as he pulled back, only to pamper my cunt with soft slaps. I chewed on the inside of my lip, biting back the moans that threatened to spill as immense pleasure shot up my spine. It was rare for him to get aggressive during sex, but when it happened it was irresistible. 

“I’ll treat you right. Make you cum.” I tossed my head back against the cushions, crying out his name as he sunk his digits back inside of me. His pace was rough, knuckles thumping against my core with every thrust of his fingers. 

The cushions shifted as he moved to lie between my legs. Leaning in, he licked a stripe up my cunt. He moaned against my core, sending jolts of heated pleasure up my spine. 

“Johnny- fuck!” I cried, fingers entangling in his curls. My hips slowly rocked against his fingers, pushing his digits even deeper inside me. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly. It was as if his thirst for me was unquenchable, he didn’t relent for even a moment. Even when I could tell he was struggling for air, he kept his face flush to my twitching cunt.  

Pressure pooled in my stomach, swelling like steam, threatening to break through. My jaw went slack. Pain welled in my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head. Johnny whispered soft praises against my skin, his lip tugging up into a smirk. My head spun as he pulled the air from my lungs, draining my alveoli with every flick of his tongue. 

Sweat oozed from my pores as my orgasm washed over me in waves. His fingers slowly rocked me through the pleasure with his other hand splayed across my stomach. He pressed kisses across my inner thighs, soon turning into fevered bites and licks. His soaked stubble left behind thin trails of wetness. 

He pulled out, thin silvery strands of my arousal following his digits. He moaned, bringing the sodden fingers to his lips. Droplets of my essence clung to his beard, coating the lower half of his face. He stared at me with dilated pupils as his tongue laved over the digits. 

“Johnny,” I stared at him with half-lidded eyes, chest still heaving as I steadied my breath. “I want you to fuck me.”

His blue eyes widened, lips parting as if about to speak. Not a sound came out. His thumb gently stroked my stomach. He looked away, pursing his lips into a thin line. I could feel my heartbeat quicken as he stayed silent. Glancing at the cross resting on his sternum, I sat up. 

“I’m sorry. I know you can’t. I- I don’t know why I asked.” I sputtered, my lips curling down into a frown. His hands reached toward my face, cradling my cheeks in his warm palms. His lips, still damp with my arousal, met mine in a soft kiss. 

He pulled back, gaze meeting mine, softer than before. 

“I want to,” he mumbled, bringing his hand to my thigh. “So bad.” 

He trailed soft kisses across my jaw, slowly trailing down my neck. His fingertips dug into the flesh of my ass. Slowly, he rutted his hips against me. Almost instinctually, I wrapped my legs around his hips. He smirked against my skin, fingertips sliding even closer to the hem of my shorts. 

“What if I fucked your ass?” My hips bucked as he slipped beneath my shorts, slick fingers circling my hole. I nodded, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asked, palm landing harshly on my ass. He smirked as he watched me recoil. Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I nodded. 

“They gave me some at my last Pap smear, hang on-” I pushed past his grip and rose to my feet. The hardwood flooring creaked behind me as he followed me, hand skimming along my waist. I stepped into the bedroom, pulling open the bedside drawer. Placed neatly beside a bottle of lube was a strip of condoms. 

My body met the plush covers of my bed. The mattress squeaked beneath our weight as he kneeled at the edge of the bed. His broad hands gripped my hips, turning me onto my back. His fingertips slipped beneath the waist of my shorts and began roughly tugging the fabric down my hips. My body jolted as he pulled them over my plush thighs. 

He leaned in, lips meeting mine in a hasty kiss. His tongue bullied its way into my mouth, pushing past my lips. I tangled my fingers in his curls, tugging him impossibly closer. I moaned into his mouth, tongue twirling against his own. Breathlessly, he pulled away.

The gaze he gave me was dripping with lust. His breath was heavy as if even the thought of what was about to happen compressed his lungs. His deep eyes dropped to my core.

“Y’ sure you want this?” He asked, thick fingers wrapping around the bottle of lube. 

“Yeah, just go slow,” I nodded. 

With a soft click, he pushed the cap open. My eyes locked onto his hands, watching as he spread a thick stripe of lube over the length of his fingers. A soft noise rose from my chest as he pushed my knees apart. I let my head drop back, falling against the thick duvet as he slowly circled my hole.

He slowly pushed his fingertips past the tight ring of muscle. He groaned, bringing his free hand to my dripping cunt. 

“So tight,” he grunted, circling his thumb around my clit. His palm met my inner thighs as he pushed knuckle-deep inside of me. My heart pounded in my ears. Blood swirled around my head, drowning out any semblance of a thought. The only thing I could focus on was the feeling of his fingers stretching me, and the thumb roughly toying with my clit. 

“Feel good, love?” He cooed. I nodded, sputtering out incoherent praises. He chuckled lowly, eyes still fixated on my core. “That’s it, open up for me.”

“Johnny!” I cried, legs closing on his hands. With a small huff, he pushed my thighs apart, splaying me out for him. His fingers kept roughly pumping in and out of me. Wet squelching echoed through the room, melding with my moans. 

“Nae, keep your legs apart. Show me how well you’re taking my fingers.” I clenched around his digits, biting back a moan. My head spun with every perverted sentence he said. The sensation, his tone, even the anticipation of what was to come was too overbearing. 

Pain sparked behind my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head. My face contorted into a grimace, lips parting in a silent scream as I came on his fingers. 

“Fuck-” he drew out the word, voice shaking with the force of his fingers. “Didn’t know you were so into anal. I’d’ve fucked your ass ages ago.”

“Johnny, add another finger,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows. Without any protest, he slid another digit in alongside the two others. A breathy moan fell from my tongue as the dull burning of the stretch settled in my core. 

He roughly pumped his fingers in and out of me. My fingers dug into the duvet, knuckles going pale at the force of my grip. I could feel myself falling into the stimulation, a heavy pressure growing in my stomach. My vision blurred as tears of overstimulation welled in my eyes. It was too much, and yet I craved more. 

“I’m gonna-“ I paused, exhaling a shaky breath “cum-”

He pulled out with a soft pop, pulling a whine from my strained voice box. The building pressure fizzled out into nothing but a full spark. Slowly, he came back into focus. Only he wasn’t kneeling before me this time. His boxers were now discarded on the floor. I watched as he hastily rolled the condom over his length. The corners of his lips turned up into a crooked smile as he caught my gaze. 

Biting down on my lip, I watched as he spread a generous about of lube over his cock. At this point, I knew what he felt like in my throat, in my hand. I could feel my stomach fluttering at the thought of him inside of me. 

With one hand on the back of my thigh, he gently pushed my knee toward my chest. My eyes locked onto his cock as he lined himself up with my entrance. He slowly pushed his hips forward. I pursed my lips, swallowing back the discomfort of the stretch. He groaned, his hips jerking forward and nudging the head of his cock inside of me. 

“Oh fuck-” he slurred, gently inching forward. With every inch I took, throbbing pressure built in my stomach, growing hotter with every little twitch of his hips. “You feel so good-” 

He rolled his hips into me, bottoming out. Without giving me a moment to adjust he started a rough pace. My back arched off of the bed. Crying out his name, I gripped his shoulders tight. My nails dug into his skin hard enough to leave a trail of red marks. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own. Desperate pants fell from his chest. Like a dog in heat, he thrusted into me. His eyes, glazed over with pleasure, were half-lidded. His cerulean irises were now a deep navy, tainted by his dilated pupils. 

“I’m not gonnae last- feels too good-” his words were a mumbled mess, punctuated by short grunts and groans. “Oh fuck I’mgonnacum-”

His hips stuttered, pace growing erratic as he spilled inside of me. He bit down hard on his lip. Small beads of blood rose to the surface of his flushed skin. I reached out, grabbing his chin between my hands. 

His kiss tasted of iron as he leaned in. He mumbled soft apologies against my lips. His hands feverishly pawed at every inch of skin within reach, gripping my thighs, my chest, my stomach. 

“I’m sorry-” he spoke through heavy breaths. 

“It’s okay, Johnny-”

“No, I want you to cum,” he said, pulling out of me. His fingers slipped beneath the condom, quickly pulling the latex off of his length. He was still hard, almost twitching in his hand. My lips parted as he lined himself up with my cunt. He pushed inside of me, quickly bottoming out. 

“Johnny!” I cried out. 

“Fuck- cum for me, please.” He drew sloppy circles against my clit, fast and relentless. His thighs met my ass with every thrust. Slapping echoed throughout the room. My head spun, worsening with every drag of his cock against my nerve endings. 

“Oh my god-” I babbled, clenching around his cock. My muscles tensed as my nerves pulsed with electricity. Static washed over my body, consuming me as I came around his cock. Tinnitus subsumed my hearing, leaving nothing but faint ringing behind. My senses depleted as my limbs dipped further into overstimulation.

“Hey, hey,” Johnny softly cooed. 

He tugged me into his chest, fingertips skating down my sides. My skin was sticky, covered with layers of sweat. I would’ve felt disgusting had it not been for the warm embrace I was basking in. I tilted my head back to look at him. His eyes were wide. Any trace of smugness was gone from his face. His brows were furrowed, blue eyes feverishly flicking across my face. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, tucking stray strands of dampened hair behind my ear. 

“Yeah,” I hummed, nuzzling my face into his chest. The cool chain dangling from his neck brushed against my cheek. 

“Why did you…” I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave my tongue. 

“Actually fuck you?” He asked, chuckling. I could feel the deep vibrations in his chest as his voice bellowed out. “There’s no way I wasn’t going to hell for fucking your ass, so why not just go all the way, huh?” He cradled my face with his palm. I pulled away abruptly, propping myself up on one elbow.

“So you’d be down to do it again?”

Masterlist