#‘we’ll if she said you like her then you like her’ suddenly being true is so fucking juvenile

[spaceshipellie]

omg ellie and mother cain. may i pretty please request you wanna love me right now, you wanna get alone with me + horny dom!ellie x femme sub!reader + tlou!au + where it’s the after party of their wedding ceremony :) but ofc ellie “can’t wait” and just wanna ditch and ofc the reader is h word too cuz of that suit ellie wears like 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

“you wanna love me right now, you wanna get alone with me”

pairing: top!ellie x femme!bottom!reader

summary/warnings: tlou au, ellie and readers wedding, touching in public, bathroom sex, fingering + eating out (r receiving), MDNI

i. can’t. cope.

the feeling that was taking over your entire body was exhilarating. you had just tied the knot with the love of your life whose forehead was currently pressed against yours, an infectious smile on her face. her hands held your hips firmly and swayed them to the music.

laughter filled the barn where people danced around you, totally consumed with the way their own brains swam with alcohol. which was lucky for you because ellie’s hands were travelling around to squeeze the life out of your ass. you yelped and giggled but she only smiled lazily and kissed you. it was a little sloppy and heated as your hands gripped the loose open collar of her shirt, pulling her closer.

“can’t believe i can call you my wife now,” she mumbled against your lips.

“ellie, you did that anyway.”

“i know, but now it’s real.” she dragged out the last word as she ran one of her hands up your body, brushing a thumb over your where your nipple poked through your dress.

you shuddered slightly at her touch. “kinda wish no one was around right now.”

“oh i don’t know, let em watch. this is our day, remember?” her words made your stomach flip.

“that’s..true,” you stuttered as she started kissing your neck.

your head fell back and your fingers tangled themselves in her hair, enjoying the warmth of her lips on your skin. you let out a little groan when her teeth grazed you which in turn made ellie groan.

“fuck,” she mumbled, tentatively slipping her fingertips up your thigh under your short dress.

“ellie,” you whined quietly.

you were so caught up in the sensation of her that you were caught off guard when she smirked against your neck and brushed her fingers over your underwear.

“ellie,” you whined again, in a slightly more warning tone than before.

“what?”

you felt a light touch over your clit then and your head fell forwards and your hands gripped her shoulders hard.

“careful,” you smiled.

“mm i wanna leave,” she said, peppering kisses from your neck to your lips.

“wouldn’t it be rude to leave our own party?”

“fuck the party.”

“ellie.”

“fine, we’ll stay here.”

she suddenly pulled her hands away and stood up straighter, giving your ass a quick slap before ushering you towards the back of the barn. hm, bathroom.

no one seemed to notice, or at least care if they did, when ellie pushed the two of you through the bathroom door, kicking it closed behind her. she was quick to shove you up against the counter, her lips hot against yours again. her hands scrambled with the bottom of your dress, pushing it up to your waist and gripping your thighs to help you jump onto the counter. both understanding that anyone could walk in at any minute, she didn’t waste any time in shoving her shirt sleeves up her forearms and pushed your underwear to the side to run a finger up you to feel how wet you were. you moaned into each others mouths as she pushed her fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out.

the thrill of being in public on top of the euphoria you felt from the entire day had worked you up so much you were eagerly grinding on ellie’s hand.

“you’ve been driving me crazy all day, you look so beautiful.”

“fuck, me too. this suit, you look so hot.” you could barely get the words out.

your foreheads were pressed together as you both looked down at where she was fucking you. she groaned before quickly dropping to her knees, pushing your legs even further apart and attaching her tongue to your cunt.

she ate you out like she’d been starved, her fingers slipping out so she could get a good grip on your thighs. seeing her face buried so deep into you, her tattoo exposed from her pushed up sleeves and her hair all messy from where your fingers had tangled it was almost too much to handle.

you slapped a hand over your mouth, practically biting down on it when your moans started getting louder. your hips were beginning to grind against her mouth and her eyes looked up at you, taking in how beautiful you looked when you were squirming under her touch like this.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” you gasped.

ellie continued sucking on your clit, determined to make you finish before anyone could interrupt. it wasn’t long before you were completely unraveling, your sweet cum making a mess of her tongue and chin. she smirked against your pussy before standing up, wiping her chin on the back of her hand. she adjusted your dress for you, pulling it back down into place.

“i love you, baby.”

“i love you too, els.”

“my wife,” she hazily giggled, kissing you.

“my wife,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“i don’t know i haven’t seen the–oh! sorry!”

the interruption caused both of your heads to snap to the door where two women stood. they nervously laughed and looked like they didn’t know wether to leave or continue going to a stall. you and ellie started laughing as you hopped off the counter to leave, her hands still constantly roaming your body.

“come on, let’s go dance,” she whispered in your ear.

[aethes-bookshelf]

we promised we'd save you || astarion/tav/halsin

This chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. I had to finish my biggest commission to date a few weeks after posting part one. It seems it took a lot out of me ^^"

But! I promised comfort, I deliver comfort. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Tav/Halsin

Warnings: implied/referenced past character death, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Summary: The first thing Tav felt was pain.

ao3 link || part 1

When they came back, Halsin carrying Tav’s dead body, stunned silence washed over the camp. The entire time the party knew Tav, they seemed indestructible. Larger than life, powerful and confident. But now, with their limbs limply swaying with Halsin’s movements, they looked like a little doll; fragile and lifeless..

Their skin was much, much paler than usual, dirty with dried blood and grime. They weren’t wearing their armor; it might have been lost or destroyed at the bhaalist temple. Without their shoulder guards they seemed so much smaller, dwarfed by Halsin’s broad shoulders.

‘What happened?’ said Wyll, eyes wide.

‘Orin happened,’ said Karlach. She had a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’

* * *

The first thing Tav felt was pain. Every single muscle in their body ached with that deep, crushing kind of pain that made even the slightest movement hell. Their head wasn’t doing any better. Their pulse pounded in their skull, each beat of their heart bringing an uncomfortable sensation in their temples. They were parched, their throat so dry and tight they were sure it would start bleeding at any moment.

They were hurting all over. But if they were hurting, that meant they were alive.

That realization slammed them right back into themself. The last thing Tav remembered before everything went black was being thrown onto the sacrificial altar in the middle of the bhaalist temple.

Tav opened their eyes. Above them was the fabric of their tent — they were back at camp. They were back at camp! Relief flooded their system. Their friends must have come for them before it was too late.

Granted, they couldn’t really move much because of the pain, but it probably wasn’t anything a bit of healing magic couldn’t fix. And a little pain was to be expected after whatever the hell Orin did to them. They would manage with a few more healing potions and Shadowheart’s help.

Tav groaned at the ache as they tried to adjust their legs under the covers. A puff of white hair suddenly came into their vision. It disappeared almost immediately when someone crashed into their chest with a relieved sob. Tav made a short, pained sound.

‘Shit,’ Astarion hissed and reluctantly moved away. He settled for holding Tav’s hand instead. ‘You made me forget myself there, my sweet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you must’ve been so worried,’ Tav said, their voice teasing and hoarse. They squeezed Astarion’s hand just a little bit tighter; he squeezed back. ‘Still, there’s no need to break my ribs over it, is there?’

Astarion was strangely silent for a beat too long. Tav tried to rise to get a better look at his face but decided against it after the pain pushed them back into their bedroll. ‘What, no witty banter? Are you okay, love?’

That made Astarion snort, unamused. ‘It’d be quite hard for me to be okay after you went and quite literally died on me.’

It was Tav’s turn to go silent. ‘...What do you mean “died”?’ They said after a few moments.

‘I mean “died”.’ He sounded annoyed. Still, his voice shook all the same. ‘You… you died. Orin killed you.’

‘Oh.’ Tav cleared their throat. They refused to let the true weight of that statement reach them. ‘Well, then I’m glad you brought me back. Though we’ll probably have to restock on scrolls of revivify. We’d been running low for a while now, anyway.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Astarion had to grab onto the fabric of his pants to stop his hand from shaking, ‘we couldn’t bring you back. We tried the scrolls, they…’ He swallowed, grief thick in his throat. ‘They wouldn’t work. We had to rush you to that blasted skeleton. For a moment I thought I’d…’

…lost you.

Astarion couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He felt as if he was on the brink of a cliff, staring down a bleak, lonely future. He’d rather not think about what his life would be like if Tav had not come back to him.

Tav wished to sit up and cradle Astarion to their chest. But they couldn’t; and they cursed all the gods, devils and hells for it.

‘Lovely, look at me,’ they said instead.

Astarion did as they asked. He was trying very hard not to cry again; he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left to spare.

‘I’m here now, okay? I’m still here.’ They tried to give Astarion a reassuring smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. He smiled back anyway.

‘I know, love. And am I not grateful for it,’ Astarion said, quietly. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. ‘Give me a moment, I have to tell Halsin you’re okay.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He’ll be now.’

The tent fell into silence when Astarion left it. Tav’s world shrank down to the pull of their muscles and the pounding in their head.

They died. Almost for good this time. The reality of that crashed down on them so suddenly they felt like they couldn’t breathe.

But they were still here. Was Orin dead then? Did the rescue party get her Netherstone? What of Gortash? Had any progress been made while they were out of it? Just how long had they been out of it?

Their racing thoughts stopped when the flaps of their tent parted and both of their lovers came in. Halsin rushed to their side, worry clear on his face.

‘My heart!’ He was by their side in an instant. He grabbed their hand, just as Astarion had before, and planted a kiss on it. He held it to his face like a drowning man would hold a piece of driftwood.

‘Hi,’ Tav smiled. ‘Glad to be back in the land of the living.’ They could taste the copper tang of blood in the back of their mouth.

Astarion settled next to Halsin and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, you big oaf,’ he said, doing his best to sound exasperated, ‘they’re okay.’

‘You say it as if you, too, haven’t been beside yourself with worry.’

Astarion scoffed. ‘Yes, yes, the pot calling the kettle black and all that.’ Despite his tone, Astarion’s eyes, locked on Halsin, remained soft.

Halsin rested his and Tav’s intertwined hands in his lap. ‘How are you feeling, my heart?’

‘Like I just died,’ Tav said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Everything hurts, I can’t really move.’

Halsin’s brow creased with worry. ‘Let me.’ He lifted his free hand and passed it over Tav’s body. The soothing coolness of healing magic did away with some of their pain.

Relief must have been clear on Tav’s face; Astarion perked up almost instantly. ‘I take it you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Tav adjusted their legs under the covers, this time without most of the pain. ‘I wager I’ll be up and about soon enough.’

‘You should rest for a few more days at least,’ Halsin’s voice was firm. Tav suspected there would be no changing his mind.

‘I know, I know.’ They sighed, bored already. ‘And thank you for the healing spell, honey.’

Halsin smiled. ‘The pleasure is mine, my heart.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Astarion. His head was resting on Halsin’s shoulder. The druid laid his free hand on the vampire’s lap. ‘None of the others knew what to do without you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, either.’

‘None of us did.’ Halsin sighed. ‘Until now,’ he said and gave Tav a look so full of pure, unfiltered adoration they had to look away for a moment.

‘Until now,’ whispered Astarion.

‘Rest, my love.’ Halsin’s voice was warm and soft. ‘We’ll be here, watching over you.’

Tav nodded and closed their eyes. Sleep came for them quickly.

Their head was no longer pounding.

[talaok]

can you write actress!reader and their daughter visiting pedro on set or pedro coming back home and surprising his daughter after being away filming please

i just love dad!pedro fluff

Warnings: surprisingly a touch of angst but really just a pinch I promise

“Hi,” you smiled, greeting Craig “Thank you for doing this”

“Of course” he reassured you “he talks about you all the time anyways, and… this way he’ll probably want to get scenes right, right away so it’s a win-win” he joked, making you chuckle.

Suddenly, you felt a tug at your hand.

“Sweetie, say hi”

Your daughter looked up at Craig, her dad’s big brown eyes cute as ever.

“Hi,” she waved, or at least tried to, wave at him.

“Hi there honey, you’re bigger each time I see you”

“‘S not true, I’m always the same,” she said between giggles

“Oh no you’re growing my friend,” he said, crouching down to her level “Next thing I know you’ll be taller than me”

“But that’s impossible“ she laughed

“We’ll see” Craig teased, getting back up to you.

“We should go”

__ __ __

"Heard that sweetie? we have to be real quiet now" You whispered as Craig led you onto the set

"Can you do that?"

She nodded, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself, she would have never been this obedient if not for what she knew was about to come.

"Here" Craig murmured as he closed a heavy white door behind you "We should almost be done with the scene"

You followed him until he stopped right in front of a little screen that showed what the camera was filming.

The scene had already started, and it followed Pedro as he walked around a makeshift apartment.

He had sent you pictures of him in character before, but seeing him in real life was much different.

They had made streaks of his hair and beard white, and he was wearing a black and green flannel that looked approximately a hundred years old.

You liked this rough look, he didn't believe you when you first told him, but seeing him now only made you more sure. He looked hot, and you made a mental note to tell him later.

Your daughter's hand was still gripping yours, but her eyes were wide with amazement as she watched her own daddy at work.

She had been down the whole day. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday and no matter what you tried to do with her, read her her favorite stories, bring her to the park, make the swing fly real high like she begged you do to each time... nothing worked, and only once you set her down to talk, she had confessed what was wrong all along.

She missed her dad.

You already had half a mind that's what it was, but you weren't sure, and when she finally told you, you felt your chest warm a bit.

Of course she did, just as you did,

Pedro had been really busy with this project, and he tried to be home as much as possible, God knows how much it pained him too, but today was Saturday, and he usually never worked on weekends, and as much as your daughter was used to not seeing much of him during the week, they used to spend every waking moment together on Saturdays and Sundays, and she didn't like the change of routine, not one bit.

The recalling of your morning was suddenly interrupted by a loud "Cut!"

The silence that filled the air before was gone in a second, as seemingly everyone rushed on set.

"You wanna go again?" Pedro asked who you assumed was the director.

"no we got it, it was perfect"

"great" Pedro smiled, starting to walk off the set, but the moment he did, something caught his attention.

"Daddy!"

You glanced beneath you, and to your amusement, your daughter wasn't there, instead, she was running towards your husband.

“What?" Pedro's eyes widened, but he wasted no time crouching down to catch her as she ran right into his arms "Peach?" he asked, hugging her tight while standing up.

"Hi" you smiled walking up to them

"Sweetheart!? what is happening?" he said, beaming

You shrugged, caging a grin between your teeth "We missed you"

And at that, he had to pause, his glimmering eyes glancing between the two loves of his life.

"I missed you so much Daddy!" your daughter joined, her pigtails hitting Pedro's cheek as she hid her face between his shoulder and neck.

"I missed you too angel" he promised, stroking her back and kissing her hair "Missed you a lot" You took a step closer, taking his free hand in yours and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"hi," you repeated yourself in a quiet whisper

"Hi" he smiled, kissing you again

"Hey!" your daughter suddenly interrupted, making both of you chuckle.

"sorry baby" you excused yourself, leaning away "he's all yours"

She made a satisfied sound before her eyes started attentively examing Pedro's face.

"you look old" she stated, making you snort.

Pedro feigned a gasp, clearly stifling a smile "What did you just say to me?"

Your daughter giggled “you look old, daddy”

“I can’t believe this! You don’t see me for a day and already think I look old!?”

“Your hair is white!” she laughed pointing at them.

“I can't believe this!” he kept up his farce, obviously entertaining her “I’ve always looked like this! Since when do you not like my hair?”

“‘S not true” she shook her head, still chuckling ” This is not your hair”

“It sure is”

”No it's not, you have brown hair like me daddy!” She protested ”tell him mommy!” She called for your help, turning to you.

”You’re right baby” you reassured her

”See? Mommy says I’m right”

”Alright, alright, you caught me” Pedro smiled, giving up ” You’re too smart angel” he kissed her cheek, starting to walk towards some chairs off the set.

Your daughter stayed gripped around him like her life depended on it even as he sat down.

”so did you have fun today?” he asked, setting her on his knees.

“Me and Mommy went to the park”

“That’s nice” Pedro smiled, stroking her hair.

“I wanted you to be there” she suddenly pouted, and you saw the look in your husband’s eyes. You saw how much those words affected him, how much they pained him.

“I know” he said “I’m sorry”

“I’ll make it up to you sweetie”

“How?” she asked, with that sassy tone she had recently discovered.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do whatever you want”

“Anything?” her eyes sparked with mischief

“Anything, peach” he promised seconds before she nestled into his chest again, hugging him even tighter.

— — —

In just twenty minutes, your daughter's soft snores started making their way to your ears.

You smiled, watching her sleeping so peacefully on her daddy’s shoulder.

“You spoil her too much” you teased, your fingers gently playing with Pedro’s ones as you set beside him.

“How could I not, have you seen her?” He whispered, still petting her hair.

A familiar smile spread on your face, but before you could fully take it in, a small sigh fled your lips.

“She misses you, Pedro,” you said, your eyes finding his, and in them, a somber understanding.

He already knew. And it destroyed him every day.

“I miss you” you added with a small frown.

He turned his palm to hold your hand, a small gesture, a small -I’m here-

“I know” he spoke after a brief moment “I miss you too”

You nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you.

“I’ll never work on weekends again,” he said

“Pedro that’s not in your control” You shook your head

“I don’t care, I’ll stand my ground” he murmured, his thumb drawing patterns on your hand “I can’t go on like this sweetheart, I want to be there for you, for both of you, and I’m tired of not doing that, I’m tired of missing you all-day baby” he whispered, frustration tracing his words.

You rested your head on his shoulder, a small -I’m here- of your own.

“I know” you spoke, softly rutting your head against his shoulder “It’ll be alright, we’ll find a way”

“Thank you for doing this” he murmured, feeling like the luckiest man in the world sitting between you “I love you”

“I love you too baby” you smiled, leaning up to give him a quick kiss.

And immediately, even if still asleep, your daughter's small arms tightened around his neck possessively, a small “daddy” escaping her lips.

You chuckled, as Pedro absolutely melted at the image

“She’s such a daddy’s girl”

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 3

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Pegging. Strap ons. Divider by @benkeibear!

The next morning, Choso is up earlier than usual, excitedly moving around the room, making sure the place is neat with no “toys” in plain view. Now you know why he keeps them in a nondescript drawer, right below his sock drawer. 

You watch him with a smile on your face. You know exactly how he feels. Your own sister has visited you a couple of times, and both times it made you very happy. Family is such a precious thing. 

When ready, he leaves to go pick up his brother, and you look forward to a fun Sunday. 

Choso isn’t gone long. Yuji’s grandfather must not live too far away. The little boy runs in through the front door, beating Choso inside, looking perfectly at ease in what is essentially a brothel. He looks just like his picture, pink hair and big bright eyes. He stops right in front of you and grins as he asks, “Are you Choso’s new girlfriend?”

You grin back. “Yeah, sure. And you must be Yuji!”

“That’s me!”

Choso walks through the door, carrying a bag of, you assume, Yuji’s things. He’s beaming as he watches his little brother chat with you, asking your name and how long you’ve been living at the Doll House. Then Yuji smiles and says, “You’re really pretty!”

This kid! Such a charmer! “Thank you! You’re a very handsome young man yourself!”

He turns to Choso once he notices his big brother has caught up to him. “Is Megumi here?”

Choso shakes his head. “Not today. He only visits every now and then, remember?”

Yuji is quiet for a moment, as if thinking hard, then he suddenly says, “I’ll go ask Toji to go get him!” And then he runs toward the hallway. 

“Who’s Megumi?” you ask as the two of you follow him down the hall. 

“Toji’s son,” Choso replies. “He’s Yuji’s age, so they play together when they happen to be here at the same time.”

“I didn’t realize he’s a dad,” you say, thinking of the somewhat gruff but friendly older man. 

Yuji knocks on Toji’s door loudly, his small fist pounding the door until you hear it open from down the hall. Then you hear Toji’s voice. 

“Oh, hey Yuji. What do you need?”

You see Yuji lean to the side, as if looking around Toji, into the room. Then you hear his cute little voice say, “Why is that lady naked?”

“Ah, shit!” Toji blurts out, stepping quickly out into the hall, finally coming into your view as he slams his door shut behind him. “Uh, she’s gettin’ ready to take a bath.”

Yuji stares up at him, his face blank. “You said a bad word.”

Toji’s face seems to twitch slightly. “I’m a grownup. You’re allowed to say bad words when you’re a grownup.”

“Really?” Yuji asks, then looks down the hall toward you and Choso. “Is that true?”

Choso gives him an uneasy smile. “We’ll talk about that when you grow up.”

Toji leans against his door and crosses his arms. “So what do you need, kid?”

Yuji returns his attention to the huge trainer. “Can you go get Megumi? I wanna play with him.”

Toji scratches the back of his head. “Megumi’s with his uncle right now. I don’t even know what he’s up to today.”

“Please, Tojiiiii?” Yuji asks, looking up. “He’s my best friend!”

You get the impression that Yuji has a lot of “best friends” but you find this scene too cute to say anything. 

Toji sighs. “Alright. I’ll call and see if he wants to come over.”

“Thanks, Toji!” Yuji says, hugging the man’s thigh. 

Toji pats the boy’s head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”

A little later, Toji leaves to get his son, and you, Choso, and Yuji grab a snack in the kitchen before sitting down in the welcome room to wait. 

Yuji is chatty, telling you about his classmates at school and the soccer team he plays on. 

“I’ve scored more goals than anybody else!” he exclaims proudly. 

“Really? That’s amazing!” you tell him.  

“Yuji is very good at sports,” Choso says. “He’s a lot more athletic than I ever was.”

You glance at Choso, thinking of his well sculpted body and the flexibility he’s shown during your sessions. “You’re pretty athletic though,” you say to him, “and you have a lot of stamina.”

Yuji perks up. “Have you guys been playing together?”

Both you and Choso blush and avert your eyes at the innocent question. “Uh, yeah, we play games sometimes,” you say.

“What kind of games?” Yuji asks. 

Choso looks at you awkwardly, opening his mouth to give some kind of answer, but at the same moment, you hear the front door swing open. Yuji, realizing his friend has most likely arrived, jumps up and runs to the lobby, completely forgetting his question. 

You and Choso both exhale, then glance at each other. He laughs, and so do you. “What were you going to tell him?” you ask. 

“I was going to say Twister,” he says with a grin. 

“Good idea.”

Just then Yuji appears in the welcome room again, smiling as he pulls along another little boy by the hand. This must be Toji’s son Megumi. He has dark messy hair and a somewhat sullen expression, but he’s making no attempt to pull his hand free. 

“And I brought a new game,” Yuji is saying as he walks toward the hallway, “Curse Fighters 3! It’s awesome! There’s a guy who can shoot his own blood across the screen! And another guy who doesn’t have special moves but he uses all kinds of cool weapons! And one guy fights while wearing a blindfold!”

As their voices fade down the hall, you hear Megumi say, “Who would fight while blindfolded? That’s dumb.”

Toji is standing in the welcome room, looking a little exasperated. Choso looks up at him and smiles apologetically. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Toji shrugs. “It’s fine. Megumi won’t admit it, but he loves playing with Yuji. I think your brother pulls him out of his shell.” Then Toji heads toward the hall. “I’ll go tell the others we’ve got kids here today.”

“Thanks,” Choso says. 

Whatever Toji told the other trainers must have worked. When you walk into the dining hall at lunch time, all the dolls you normally see are dressed in regular clothes, even Geto’s and Gojo’s. You don’t see the kids, and wonder if they’re still playing video games as you and Choso begin fixing your plates. Just as you’re about to ask him if you should go get them, the door leading to the kitchen bursts open and Gojo limps into the dining hall. 

Megumi is wrapped around one of Gojo’s legs, being dragged along by the tall trainer. Yuji is hanging from Gojo’s neck, and there’s an orange toy arrow stuck under Gojo’s arm. 

“Help! Help!” Gojo is shouting dramatically. “The little goblins are attacking!”

Everyone else watches the scene with amusement, aside from Sukuna who simply looks bored. Gojo drags himself to Geto’s table and practically throws himself across it. “Suguru! You have to help me!”

Geto gives him a wicked grin as he crosses his arms. “Help you? Who do you think told them your weakness?”

Gojo pulls himself up, Yuji still holding onto his neck, and looks at Geto with shock as he screams, “Traitor!”

Yuji hops down, pulling the toy arrow free. “Now we know you’re weak to arrows!” he yells as he pokes Gojo with the foam tip. 

Megumi disentangles himself and pulls another arrow out from behind him. It must have been stuck through the belt loop of his shorts. He wordlessly jabs the arrow against Gojo’s thigh. 

Gojo yelps and jerks away from them, finally collapsing onto the floor. Yuji hoists his arrow into the air and declares, “We did it! We defeated the white haired demon!”

Megumi doesn’t yell, but he does mimic Yuji’s motion, holding his own arrow up. Most of the people in the dining hall, including you and Choso, clap and laugh. 

Yuji bows as if he’s an actor on a stage, then he and Megumi are at the food table, already filling plates. Choso walks over and supervises them, making sure they don’t make a mess. 

Surprisingly, both boys elect to sit at Nanami’s table with him, chatting animatedly. Choso seems to notice your confusion. 

“They like to play with Gojo, but they like to talk to Nanami,” he says. 

Looking across the room, you can’t hear what’s being said, but the blonde trainer is looking at the kids with a warm expression while they seem to ramble on to him. 

“It’s nice that the other trainers are friendly to them,” you say. 

Choso’s smile is lovely. “I’m really thankful to them for being so kind to Yuji. I know he can be a bit… rambunctious. But no one complains.”

Your eyes shift to the table a few feet away with a lone occupant. Sukuna is eating his dinner like usual, taking no interest in the kids. 

“Even Sukuna?” 

Choso wears an uneasy expression. “Well, he doesn’t complain, but-“

“I don’t like Sukuna!” Yuji suddenly says beside you, seeming to appear at your table out of the blue. “He’s mean!”

You glance nervously at the tattooed trainer, knowing he’s close enough to hear. He looks at Yuji and gives the child a menacing grin. He doesn’t say a word, but from the look on his face, you can practically hear him saying, “The feeling’s mutual, brat!”

Yuji flinches, but doesn’t flee or back down. 

“How is he mean?” you ask, curious. 

Yuji frowns at the man before turning his attention back to you. “He says bad words all the time without apologizing. He won’t play with me or Megumi, and he never lets me meet his girlfriends!”

Before you can respond, Yuji is already heading back to Nanami’s table. Choso gives a somewhat apologetic wave to Sukuna, who shrugs. 

“He never complains, even though Yuji antagonizes him sometimes,” Choso tells you. “But he’s not friendly with him either. I can’t expect everyone to spoil Yuji, so I’m just glad Sukuna puts up with him.”

You relax slightly as the dining hall calms down. Both boys are eating beside Nanami and his doll, and all the other trainers are chatting and eating like normal people. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to look at the screen. Your sister has sent you a message to let you know she finished all her paperwork for starting classes. You send her a happy, cheering emoji and smile as you put your phone away. 

************************

Hours later, after dinner, Choso and his doll are walking down the hall, toward the kitchen. Yuji and Megumi said they want a “snack for dessert”, so they ran ahead to pick something. 

As the two adults approach the door to the kitchen, his doll suddenly freezes and holds up a hand, silencing whatever Choso was saying. 

“Did Yuji just say he could climb to reach something?”

Choso is momentarily confused. He didn’t hear anything. But the doll dashes through the door at top speed, Choso following after her. 

As they burst into the kitchen, they see Yuji on top of the counter, in the process of falling backwards off it. Choso’s immediate reaction is to try to dive for him, but his doll is closer. She rushes forward and catches Yuji in her arms, the two of them falling to the floor. She lands on her ass, cradling Yuji, protecting him from the impact.  

She barely takes a moment to wince before she’s looking the child over. “Are you okay?”

Yuji looks stunned for a few seconds, but quickly recovers. “I’m fine!”

She sighs with relief, then her face becomes stern. “Don’t ever do that again! Climbing on the counters is dangerous. You could’ve been hurt!”

Yuji looks shocked. He’s not used to being scolded by anyone besides his grandpa. Choso is well aware that he’s way too soft on Yuji, and perhaps a strong scolding is good for him, especially in a case like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says, looking dejected as he climbs out of the doll’s lap. 

She gets to her feet and smiles down at him. “It’s okay. Just be careful from now on, okay? You scared me. Think about how sad your brother would be if you got hurt while visiting him.”

Yuji looks at Choso, his big eyes glossy. “Sorry, Choso!”

Choso walks over and rubs Yuji’s hair affectionately. “I’m not mad. I’m just relieved that you’re okay.”

“I told him not to,” Megumi says, his arms crossed. When he stands there like that, he looks just like his father. 

Yuji turns sharply to look at his friend, as if he’s been betrayed. 

Megumi’s slightly smug expression falters. “What? It’s the truth!”

Choso pats Yuji’s head again. “Don’t be mad at Megumi. It sounds like he was giving you good advice. You should listen to him. Now, what were you trying to reach?”

Yuji is such a sweet, bright young man. He doesn’t linger on negative feelings and never pouts. So he’s almost immediately back to normal, pointing to a box of chocolate snack cakes in the top cabinet. Apparently he’d seen Gojo get some out earlier, so he remembered where they were. 

Choso’s doll pulls the box down and gets out a small, individually wrapped cake for each of the boys. They take them, thank her, and then they both run back out of the kitchen and toward the empty room they’ve been using to play in. 

Once they’re gone, his doll turns to him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have scolded Yuji. It wasn’t my place. I think my big sister instincts just kicked in when I heard him say he was going to climb.”

Choso gives her a warm smile. “No, you were right to say what you did. He can be a bit reckless at times, and it worries me. But I’m too easy on him to say anything. Thank you for catching him.”

She smiles back. “Anytime.”

Later that night, Toji drives both boys home. He’s done this a few times now, so he knows where Yuji lives, and it’s on his way. Choso thanks him when he returns. 

“No problem,” Toji replies. “My kid actually talks to me when your brother is around.”

After the other trainer goes to his room, Choso’s doll stands beside him. “Sounds like he and Megumi have a complicated relationship.”

“I suppose they do. I had a complicated relationship with my own father,” he says. 

“Same here. I guess that’s pretty common.”

He glances at her, wishing he knew more about her, wishing he knew everything about her. But she’ll be gone in a couple of weeks, and he’ll never see her again. She said she wanted them to be friends, but how would her new owner react to her remaining in contact with her trainer? It would be highly unprofessional on Choso’s part. 

Actually, he wishes she could just stay with him. 

***********************

Several days later, you walk into the welcome room to find Choso accepting a package from the delivery man, bowing slightly as he thanks the man. 

You look at the plain brown box in his hands, your heart beginning to race as you approach him. “Is that it?”

Choso notices you, blushes, but then grins. “It is. Want to open it now?”

“Definitely,” you say, and the two of you return to his room. 

In the early days of the training, Choso told you to order whatever you wanted to use in the training sessions and he would pay for it. You’ve ordered a few items but nothing really special. A few days ago you spotted this item, and after asking Choso if it’s something he’d be okay with using, you ordered it immediately. Since then, all you can think about is trying it out. 

Choso sits the box on the bed and gestures for you to go ahead and open it. You feel like a kid at Christmas as you tear the box open and remove your prize. 

It’s a bright red double-sided strap on. There’s an impressive silicone appendage sticking out from the front, and an equally impressive one sticking out from the inside of the strap, which is supposed to go inside you. 

When you first approached Choso about the idea of pegging him, you were a bit nervous. But he told you he enjoyed it under the right circumstances (plenty of lube and a careful partner). 

“I think it would be amazing with you,” he told you, his eyes shining with excitement. 

So after some prep work, you find yourself standing naked in his room, him on his knees in front of you, eating you out to get you slicked up. When you’re ready, he helps you pull the strap on up and into you. It’s a snug fit, and the thought that the same thing will be going inside Choso makes you clench. 

You stand with the bright red dildo hanging over Choso’s face, and he looks up at you expectantly. 

“Suck me off,” you tell him, and he begins licking the dildo, his tongue moving over it in such an erotic way, you imagine you can feel it. When he takes it into his mouth and moves his head back and forth, the motion causes the dildo inside you to move, stirring you up. You moan and grab his hair, guiding his head to a rhythm. 

It feels so good, and Choso looks so fucking hot on his knees, deep throating the dildo, you’re on the edge of cumming within minutes. But you hold back, and instead gently push him back and then lead him to the bed. 

He slips his black pants down his hips and steps out of them, along with his boxers. He’s already hard, a pink dusting on his cheeks as he climbs onto the mattress and gets into position, on his knees, facing the foot of the bed. You climb on behind him, a bottle of lube in your hand. 

Looking down at him, you find yourself mesmerized by how tight and smooth his ass is. He’s definitely put some work into getting such a fine, toned body. You rub and squeeze his ass for a moment before drizzling the lube liberally over him and the strap on. You rub it in, taking care to do it thoroughly. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. 

You spread his firm cheeks and press one finger into him, testing to be sure he’s nice and slippery. He seems to tense up slightly, and you grin as you give his ass a light, playful slap. “Are you ready?” you ask, removing your finger and watching his cute asshole clench the air. 

“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, eyes forward. There’s a bit of a crack in his voice that sends a shiver through you. 

Satisfied that you’re both prepared, you line the silicone dick up with Choso’s hole and slowly, carefully, ease it into him. He makes a small gasping sound as it goes further in, but otherwise remains calm and quiet until it’s all the way in. 

You experiment with a few shallow thrusts, enjoying the way your end feels inside you and the way Choso’s muscles ripple beneath you. Leaning forward, you put your mouth close to his ear and say, “How does it feel?”

“It feels good, Mistress,” he says, in that shuddering voice you love so much. 

Gradually, you begin thrusting deeper and harder, listening to his grunts and moans to determine whether it feels good or hurts. He agreed beforehand to let you know if he felt any discomfort, but you still want to take care with him. 

As your thrusts speed up, the dildo on your end moves back and forth, thrusting into you as well. You find yourself moaning along with Choso as you fuck him. 

You notice his body is quivering with pleasure, his strong arms trembling as they try to hold him up. His hair is loose, the way you like it, spilling over his face in sweaty strands. You reach around him and gently grip his hard, leaking cock. He moans as you begin stroking him, using the same rhythm as your thrusts. His cock feels lovely in your hand, all hot and slick and throbbing. Your thrusts become faster as chase your own pleasure, the silicone rod inside you making the perfect amount of friction with every move. 

“Mistress,” Choso’s strained voice says between groans, “m-may I cum? Please?”

The pulse of his cock is faster now, the appendage twitching in your grip. You stroke him a few moments longer, thrusting deeply into him, before finally moving your hand down to give his balls a squeeze. “Cum for me,” you whisper into his ear, pushing into him as far as possible. 

He moans loudly as he cums, shooting his load onto the sheets, his body shaking. Seeing and hearing it is enough to bring you to your own orgasm, and you keep thrusting as the pleasure overtakes you. 

You’re left panting, collapsed on top of Choso, the dildo slipping out of him and hanging between your bodies. When you have the strength, you draw back and begin unfastening the strap on. Choso turns around and helps you remove it. The inner dildo, that had been inside you, is sticky and glistening. Before you can reach for it, Choso holds it up to his mouth and begins licking it clean. 

Fuck, he’s amazing. How are you supposed to just move on to some other man after being with someone so perfect? No one is ever going to compare to him. Choso not only pleases you sexually, but he’s a kind and responsible man who makes your heart flutter. You’re starting to seriously dread the end of the training. If only you could just… stay here. 

*****************

The following evening, Choso is getting ready to take his nightly shower when he notices something amiss. His doll is looking at her phone, and instead of the usual bright smile she wears while texting her sister, her face is becoming increasingly distraught. 

She looks up at him, the phone now trembling in her hand. “I have to go home, right now,” she says, her voice shaky. “My sister is in trouble.”

Choso feels a spike of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes are full of anger and fear as she says, “Yosaku broke into our house. He said if he can’t have her, no one can! She’s hiding in the bathroom!”

Tag List:

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[srjlvr]

enha hyung line! — as parents <3

hyung-line!enha x fem!reader ! | genre: fluff ! | wc: 1.8k+ ! | warnings: enha as fathers, kids, mentions of food, not proofread ! | note: i thought about it while having some of our family members over and watching them taking care of their (vv annoying) kids !

— ✧ heeseung ♡

“IM GONNA BE A FATHER” would literally scream this out every time he’s outside.

took him a while to really realize the fact that he’s going to be responsible for a living soul and suddenly he freaks out.

did everything to be prepared and finally after 9 months he held his daughter in his hands.

would probably use his angelic voice to sing lullabies to the baby.

tells you he hopes her first words would be ‘mama’ but secretly whispers “say dada” to her whenever you’re not listening.

would send you off to work so he could stay together with the baby and even would take her to his work as well.

he would be tired as hell at nights when the baby wakes up crying, but he’d always get up before you and would force you to lay down and fall back asleep while he takes care of the situation.

he’d be the coolest dad ever! would teach his daughter basketball even at such a young age, and would support everything that she wants to do.

would be so overprotective and will go like “dont talk to my daughter like that!” whenever someone speaks badly about her.

he’d be so openly with her and would talk about whatever! when it comes to question about ‘how to make kids’, he’d just say that it’s not the time to explain.

as she grows older, he’d get too emotional all the time and would take pictures of everything his child does.

each morning would help her get ready and send her off to school with kisses and “i love you”s

so so so supportive and comforting person, as a father he’d do everything to make his daughter happy.

would be a little worried and overprotective about parties as his daughter grows older, but he trusts her enough to let her do what she wants. as long as she’s being safe.

“hey dad, can we go play some basketball?” your daughter asked. “but i prepared dinner already” you frowned a bit, expecting to eat with your family already.

“eat some snack in the meantime baby, we’ll be back in an hour” heeseung pecked your lips and hugged you. he then grabbed the ball and tossed it to your daughter.

“bye mom!” “bye love!” they both said. “wait!” you stopped them. they both froze and looked at you, you quickly got closer and put on your sports shoes, “the loser washes the dishes for a week” you smirked.

heeseung ended up loosing, watching his daughter and the love of his life getting so excited over playing together had always been his weakness.

— rest of the members under the cut !

— ✧ jay ♡

*insert shocked af emoji* — that would be his reaction after realizing he’s going to be a dad.

“i’ll cook you everyday and style you each morning, we’re going to have so much fun!” literally speaks to your tummy all day.

gets super excited and thrilled to the due date, prepared everything from A to Z and even asked his parents for some tips.

“i know nothing about babies but i can cook and i have good style…?” like 😭✋🏻✋🏻

almost fainted holding his son after 9 months of talking to him through your tummy, but held on a big smiled finally realizing his biggest dream came true.

before you’re coming back home he made sure the house is fully secured and safe for babies.

he’s just worried for the new family member that’s all :(

the softest dad ever! won’t stop snapping pictures and talking about his son with whoever he can.

would wake up early everyday to prepare breakfast for the little one, and would slowly and surely wake up him and help him eat.

wouldn’t give you a chance to overwork yourself, he’d tell you to rest and he’d take care of everything.

ngl i think he’d spoil his son so much and he would buy him anything he wants just bc he wants to see his son happy☹️

MATCHING OUTFITS is a must!! being the best stylist that he is, he LOVES to dress up his son and would match with him as well.

would teach him how to treat people (esp women!) right since basic manners is hella important.

tbh i also think he’d be like so chill about his child going to parties and all when growing up and he’d even drop him off and pick him up whenever he needs.

“how’s the food?” jay asked after setting his plate next to your plate, in front of his son. “good as always” your son smiled warmly at you.

“also, can you drop me off at (friends name)’s? we’re just gonna go out later, i’d be back before 1AM” he added. “sure, me and your mom are going on a date today so we’ll drop you off on our way” jay said, looking at you lovingly and pecking your nose.

“disgusting” your son rolled his eyes and you giggled. “you’re just jealous aren’t you?” “let’s show him some love”

both of you and jay got up and dragged your son to the sofa, tickling him and laughing about his cute reaction, but ending up the fight with a tight family hug.

— ✧ jake ♡

his reaction would be so precious when he’d found out about the pregnancy. literally called his mom and the rest of his family a second after you decided it’s time to officially tell everyone.

“do whatever you feel like doing as long as you’re not overworking yourself and putting yourself in danger” type of person.

would be so hyped up and would prepare himself mentally every day that in a few months he’d have a new family member.

after nine months he let out some happy tears, watching his son sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“you took care of him nine months now let me take care of him” — would use it as an excuse to be alone with the baby.

bought so many baby clothes beforehand and doesn’t know what to do when the baby is growing so fast and the clothes are already tiny on him.

cries every time something emotional happens, as if his hormones are higher than yours😮‍💨.

really wants his son to have an australian accent so he’s showing him australian baby-friendly videos.

he’d be the funniest dad ever! the one that even his son’s friends would like because he’s so easygoing and funny.

oh and let’s talk about the gaming station he’d build for him and his son to play together, they’d spend all day in the room without getting out, leaving you all alone.

as funny and easygoing he is, i think he might be a little overprotective as well. as his son became a teenager and started going to parties, he became a bit scared, so he texts every once in a while to check if his son is still alive.

i think he’d also be super thrilled when his son would get a significant other and would make sure to have a conversation with him about “how to treat your significant other right”.

he would also take his son to late night walks, just to talk about his concerns and everything he needs, he always makes sure his son knows he’d do pretty much everything to see his smile.

“nice one! go to your left!” jake yelled as his fingers moved fast on the keyboard and his eyes roamed around the computer screen. “they’re attacking from everywhere!” your son groaned.

as another game ended with a fail, jake looked over his son and pat his shoulder, “it’s okay, it doesn’t mean we suck at this game” he hugged his disappointed son.

“boys! i prepared some snacks! get out and let’s hang out!” you called them out for the hundredth time today. “your mother is looking for attention” jake giggled.

“let’s play one more game and then go” his son plead and jake smiled, “how can i say no to you?”

— ✧ sunghoon ♡

“so you’re telling me,” he froze, “that there’s a human being growing in your tummy right now?” *insert dumbfounded emoji*

oh this boy would be so scared for his life, i think he’d mostly be scared of the thought that he wont be able to take care of you right.

that’s why he prepared himself in any kind of way. he read books, went to get some tips from his mother and even his grandma, he wants to be so perfect and he wants to make everything more comfortable and easy for you.

so when he finally held his daughter’s tiny fingers, he cried happy tears. he cried because now his job is to raise his beautiful daughter and protect her from any costs.

since he’s so well prepared, he wasn’t even worried a bit once she started crying and waking up so late at nights nonstop.

would tell her stories and talk to her all day, entertaining her as much as he can, it’s also not his fault, his daughter is just so cute and adorable.

“i can’t believe i’m a father” he goes around the house giggling and playing with his daughter.

would tease you so much when her first words are ‘dada’ and not ‘mama’ — would be like “what can i say? she loves me more” with such a huge smirk on his face.

just like him, he hopes his daughter would take interest in ice skating, so as she grew old, he took her to one of the nearest ice rinks, and singed her up for classes when he saw she was actually enjoying it.

he’d be so supportive and so understanding, would always take her to practices and you two would always show up for her shows and would even skate with her if you’d feel like it.

likes to do different hairstyles and would just go with the flow, one day it can be ponytails and the other day it could be a simple braid.

he’d actually also go around and be like “do you see her? she’s my daughter, she’s so cute isnt she?”.

in general he’d be the softest dad ever! as his daughter grows old, he’d plant some morning kisses on her cheeks and would tell her that he loves her dearly and would send her off to school.

“dad! i have practice in about half an hour!” your daughter noted and sunghoon immediately gasped, “right right! let’s go!” he said and grabbed your hand as well.

“huh? aren’t you just dropping her off? why do i need to come too?” you asked, “because,” he smiled, “she’s our daughter and we need to watch her practice”

“i also wanted us to have a dinner date today, all of us together, it’s been a while since we went to hang out all three of us” he said, “because you always take her to grab some ice cream after practice” you teased and he shrugged.

“we got the best daughter ever” he smiled. “i know” you replied and he then pecked your lips, “thank you, for making me become a father”

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

in plain sight masterlist | family dinner | tiana | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to. 

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you. 

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close. 

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember. 

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him. 

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure. 

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling. 

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40  minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the 

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough. 

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age. 

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge. 

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat. 

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship. 

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame. 

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury. 

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him. 

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him. 

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him. 

“Are we sleeping here?” 

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly. 

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had  lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello. 

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be. 

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water. 

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it. 

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts. 

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan. 

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you. 

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you. 

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago. 

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this. 

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more. 

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine. 

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock. 

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp.  Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you. 

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you. 

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands,  “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more.  “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. 

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed. 

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs.  “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off. 

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum. 

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth. 

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more. 

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?” 

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.” 

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions. 

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight. 

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you. 

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.  

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours. 

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your  fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins. 

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony. 

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you. 

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner. 

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey. 

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him. 

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows. 

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved. 

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him. 

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly. 

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

[tonowaritrash]

I’ve never done an ask before, but I’d love to see a smut fic of young Tonowari with reader. Where she thinks he’s going to be with Ronal so she tries her best to avoid him, no matter how hard he tries to get her attention. Then her heat starts unexpectedly when he finally gets a hold of her so she runs away, but he follows her fed up with the running. Finds out she’s in heat and wants to mate with her but she thinks it’s just a duty to him as future chief. Hopefully this makes sense in some way.

A HEAT FIC! YES! nonny i hope your dreams come true

slightly different turn of events at the end, for added drama, but the spirit is the same methinks.

pairing: tonowari x reader

tags: heat, feelings of inadequacy, p in v sex, praise, gentle dom!tonowari if you squint, porn with feelings

a/n: this fic…it ran away from me

minors dni

it’s not that you’d wanted to avoid tonowari, not truly anyway. you’d grown up together as your parents were close to each other, and he’s always been protective over you. fussing over whether you were truly ready for joining the others for hunts, giving other men a glare when they’d approached you, soothing you when you cried about whatever had hurt you that day. but he was like that with your siblings too, and all his friends really. the treatment you got wasn’t special but every softly spoken assurance, every gentle smile, every soothing touch, even, had taken a hold on your heart.

but you couldn’t do anything about it. he would soon take over as olo’eyktan and all the tribe whispered and gushed about how ronal would be the perfect tsahik. and who could blame them? she was fierce, intelligent, loyal, loving and dedicated to the tribe. the younger members often sought her out for guidance when they were too scared to go to elders.

it only made sense, then, that tonowari spent less time with you as time went on. as you got older and more mature you’d noticed how he and ronal were often nowhere to be seen. you wouldn’t dare impose yourself upon them. it just didn’t feel right. no matter how much your heart ached for him.

so when he appeared in front of you while you and the tribe were deciding hunting parties for the day you were surprised. he was smiling, turquoise eyes sparkling. “looks like we’ll be together for the day,” he said.

you nearly frowned, having not heard the olo’eyktan’s announcement of parties during your musings. ronal had apparently been assigned to another one.

“just like old times, eh?” he asked.

you nodded, forcing a smile. you couldn’t hunt with him. it would hurt too much to have him fuss over you when you were like this.

he gave you an earnest look and placed a hand on your shoulder. “listen, i-“”

suddenly someone called out to him and he turned to see his father, a dear friend of the oloeyktan, motioning for him.

tonowari looked at you apologetically. “we’ll talk on the hunt,” he promised.

again, you could only nod and sighed in relief when he left. the place he had touched you burned and your heart seemed to think your chest was a drum.

quickly you ran to find another close friend of yours before the hunt started.

you found him sharpening a spear, face contorted in concentration.

“not now,” he muttered, immediately knowing it was you. “i gotta get this ready before we head out.”

“switch hunting parties with me,” you blurted in a rush.

ralak sighed and placed the spear down. “what’s this about?”

“nothing, i…” you paused and gulped, nothing how shaky your breath was. “i just…the west side of the reef isn’t that pretty this time of year is all.”

ralak studied you steadily before sighing and continuing with sharpening his spear. “fine. but you owe me.”

you beamed and hugged him. “thanks!”

“yeah, yeah.”

-0O0-

the hunts were successful and without incident. tonowari had managed to catch a large fish that would feed the tribe well for two nights. the celebration was boisterous and the cheerful sounds of your fellow metkayina floated into the night sky.

there were drums being beaten on steadily and flutes were played as the tribe danced. you were sitting next to ralak who was telling you about the hunt and how tonowari had led them, speaking above the roar of the fire and the songs being chanted.

you laughed along at his tale, only to be distracted by a glimpse of tonowari who was making his way through the crowd as though looking for someone. your eyes caught each other and a smile graced his face before he made his way to you, causing your good mood to sour immediately.

“i need to go,” you said suddenly, standing up.

ralak was surprised but didn’t say anything, only offering a small wave. you smiled back reassuringly and melted into the crowd. the whole tribe was there so it was easy to blend in and have tonowari lose track of you.

you turned and saw him speaking to ralak with a quizzical look but saw ronal approaching them as well. you heart lurched and your eyes burned, hot tears threatening to fall. you looked away before you could see them talk to each other and made your way back home.

the night air was cooler now that you were away from the flames, but you noticed your body was still quite warm. a dull ache, barely noticeable, sat at the bottom of your stomach.

it was early symptoms of a heat, but it was still days away. your scent hadn’t changed yet, ralak would have pointed it out if it did, so it wouldn’t be a problem for another few days.

-0O0-

“so will you tell me what’s wrong now?”

two days later you were sitting with ralak at a cliff, taking in the breeze and watching the waves crash into stone below you. the day was warm and you were sharing fruit between the two of you.

“i don’t know what you mean,” you said coolly before taking a bite. the fruit was juicy and you wiped your mouth when you felt some of it trickle down your chin.

ralak gave you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed. “i’m not stupid, you’ve been avoiding tonowari for months, now. what’s going on?”

you frowned at him. ralak was always so observant, wise beyond his years it seemed too. “i haven’t been avoiding him.”

he clicked his tongue and shook his head as he stared into the horizon. the sea was so beautiful like this, glinting under the bright light of the star in the sky. he was concerned, but he didn’t prod.

“your heat’s coming,” he murmured now.

you choked on the fruit that was currently in your mouth at his bluntness. “you can’t just…a little tact, please!”

he chuckled. “there’s no one here, and i can guarantee everyone in the tribe will be able to smell it on you in about a day too.”

the only reason ralak knew was because he was around you so much. when people were close to each other it was far easier to smell the subtle differences in scent.

“so? any plans to have someone help you?”

“are you volunteering?” you teased, but the look he gave you was a serious one. you shook your head. “i’m used to going at it alone.”

“you sure?” he asked. “you were joking but i don’t mind helping you, you know. i get…i just…” he trailed off, wringing his hands.

you knew what he would say, and you were flattered really. heats were a difficult time and usually it was encouraged at an unmated woman have a trusted friend help her through it until she was bonded. going at it alone wasn’t impossible but it was harder.

“i’m used to it,” you reassured. “don’t worry about me, ralak.”

he shook his head again, though not at you it seemed. perhaps at something he himself was thinking. “alright. but you’re gonna have to find a mate soon.”

when the two of you arrived back at the tribe, eclipse was close at hand. ralak left, mentioning something about spears again before giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as though to reassure you.

you were alone in the bustle of the village and tried to find something to keep your mind busy for the rest of the day.

before you could even think however, you bumped into tonowari who steadied you before you could fall. his hands were hot against your skin and you jumped away.

“you alright?” he asked. “i was looking for you.”

you looked up at his concerned eyes and could feel your stomach curl in on itself. “i…i’m fine. i need to go—”

“i wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, quickly grabbing your wrist before you could make your escape.

that touch seemed to burn through you, your heart raced and you could feel your skin getting hotter by the second.

no, this wasn’t right. your heat wasn’t due for another couple days at the very least. you didn’t even have a strong scent yet. what was this? what was happening?

“i really need to go,” you said again, fighting with yourself to move away from him.

his eyes narrowed in concern. “what’s…” but after a moment he inhaled deeply and his eyes widened.

you used this moment to break away from him and ran to the other side of settlement where the heat huts were. your heat was coming early and since you were unmated, it would be difficult to handle it at home especially because you were so unprepared.

seeing ronal at the front, tidying up almost made you trip in surprise.

she looked up at you and frowned before ushering you inside without another word, closing the curtain behind her as she did. this hut was in the shade for most of they day, making heats somewhat bearable, and you were relieved at the cool air against your skin.

“it’s early,” she said muttered, smelling you.

“i was fine thirty minutes ago, i swear.”

she tutted and fussed about you, bringing you water and a plate of food, ever the picture of calmness as you fidgeted, already feeling a wetness soak through your clothes. the cramps were beginning and you squirmed and the uncomfortable sensitive feeling you had in your intimate parts.

“relax,” she said. “i’ll leave in a moment but i’ll be close by. do you have anyone helping you through this?”

you shook your head and she nodded. normally people didn’t go there if they had someone to help them.

“i’ll come in every few hours to give you food and water,” she said. “if you need anything, tell me.”

she left you then and you were alone inside a hut in the early throes of a heat. it didn’t take you long for you to start touching yourself, eyes pricking at the feeling of pressure against your clit. it didn’t take long for you to come either from how sensitive you were, slick gushing out of you as you gasped.

it wasn’t nearly enough, you knew that, and you whined, lying back now and putting two fingers inside. you were burning everywhere, and it was almost unbearable.

the world around you because a blazing haze as your thoughts melted together. your fingers thrust into you pathetically and you whined as you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to think it was someone else doing it. imagining soft words of praise and affirmation and strong arms cooling away the burning as you were thrusted into.

“that’s it,” the imaginary voice said, softly. “take my cock. that’s a good girl.”

you sobbed, you walls squeezing around empty space sound your fingers. “wari, please,” you said softly. “wari, need you please. please.”

and you came again. but something was clearly wrong. everything still burned. there wasn’t the usual respite, the moments of calm in a frenzy. your mind was foggy and your cunt still dripping and wanting. it burned, it all burned.

-0O0-

it was like this for two days. you could barely sleep from the heat and eating was difficult. ronal expressed her concern the first time she checked in on you and noticed you hadn’t touched the water, and now she seemed genuinely frightened.

you were too. your heats usually calmed down after the first three days, but it seemed only to worsen as time went on.

you whispered tonowari’s name repeatedly, his figure was the only one you saw when you fell into one of your fantasies. but he wasn’t there and every time you realised this, you cried.

right now, though, you were on your hands and knees, ass up as you fucked your fingers. vaguely you heard loud whispers floating into the room. you couldn’t tell what was being said, and you didn’t care as you whined at the burning feeling.

“need you, wari,” you mumbled as imagined him taking you from behind. “hurts so bad.”

you could hear the sound of cloth moving and footsteps somewhere far away. you didn’t pay it mind, however as slick gushed out of you once more and tears fell from your face. it just wasn’t enough.

you heard your name being called and you looked, peering through the haze at the voice. it sounded so real, was your imagination really that strong?

“look at you,” the voice said, concerned. you saw tonowari kneeling next to you and you squinted.

“wari?” you asked and you reached out. his skin was cool under your palm, soothing, like a gel on a burn. “you’re here?”

“i’m here sweet girl,” he said, cupping your face. “gonna take care of you.”

something in your brain raised alarm bells and you would have protested but his hands were so cool, they offered the only respite you’d had from the burning from the last three days.

without any delay, he replaced your fingers with his own and —oh!—it was…it felt…

you sobbed at the way his fingers felt inside you, stretching you and curling into you. it was infinitely better already, they were so thick and long.

he swore at the slick that came out of you and licked it off your thighs. you shivered as he trailed it up, lapping at everything before giving you cunt a long lick.

it was like an explosion erupted through you as he circled your clit with his tongue. then he gave it a tentative lick and you came, the haze and the fog in your mind clearing somewhat.

he licked you clean before straightening himself behind you. “gonna fuck you now,” he promised. “gonna make it feel better, okay, sweet girl?”

you barely answered before he thrusted into you. the feeling was incredible, you had no idea that you could feel like this during a heat.

“fuck,” he said softly. “fuck, you’re so perfect around me. you’re so tight.”

you felt him grip your hips tighter as though to control himself.

“wari, gonna cum,” you sobbed. “wanna cum on your cock.”

he grunted at that and gave two particularly hard thrusts which made you cum harder than you’d ever in your life. he swore as slicked rushed out of you and came inside you soon after.

the fog cleared enough that you were lucid and you blinked, turning to tonowari who lay down next to you in exhaustion.

“wari? it’s you?”

he nodded. “it was easy to convince ronal since your heat had gotten bad. why didn’t you ask for help?”

“i…” you trailed off. “ thank you, for coming here.”

he nodded and helped you sit up. a bowl of water was at your lips before you knew it. “you need to drink.”

you did so happily, but the ache in your heart came again. he was once again fussing over you. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“ronal is kind,” you said, “letting you come here.”

he looked at you quizzically. “it’s to be expected. we look out for each other as a tribe.”

again your heart panged. you couldn’t bear to look at him as he fed you some dried fruit from the bowl, but the familiar tingle began to rise again. soon your body burned once more and you are panting and whining.

the bowl was put aside as tonowari grasped your hips and manoeuvred you onto his lap. his hands cooled the unbearable heat on your skin as he reassured you.

tonowari took you while you were on his lap this time, rocking into you as you whined at keened. soft words were shared in your ear and you swore as he thrusted up into you. “good girl,” he said. “take what you need from me. there you go…”

you gripped his shoulders as you rode him, back arching as he rubbed your clit. you came again and collapsed into him as he stroked your hair.

“ralak said you were avoiding me,” tonowari said after some silence. “he didn’t say why but…” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “i was worried, truly.”

“you and ronal need to focus on each other.”

“ronal and i?”

you nodded and he frowned. “you’re just as important. you should have said your heat was going to be bad.”

you smiled now. “even now the future olo’eyktan thinks of his people. i’m impressed.”

“i’m not…this isn’t…” he paused to collect his thoughts. “i’m doing this because you’re…i…fuck. i want to.”

you’d never seen him look so frustrated and you were all the more confused for it.

he saw your expression and furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. then as though he’d made up his mind, he kissed you.

it took you by surprise. normally it wasn’t necessary for people who helped during heats to kiss, at least that’s what you’d heard. but this kiss, it soothed you, and you relaxed as tonowari wrapped his arms around you. it was nice and you felt as tonowari let a content purr out, a thing you’d never heard him do. you broke apart and he trailed some kisses down your neck, suckling softly at your collar bone.

it seemed like he genuinely enjoyed this, that he cared. about you. but that wasn’t right. ronal she was just outside…

“wari, i can’t…ronal might…”

he paused. “ronal?”

you fidgeted. “she’ll be your tsahik. you’ll be mated, it’s not fair to her.”

he blinked, and a rush of understanding washed across his face. “ronal and i…we’re not together.”

the words were like a punch in the gut. “what?”

“she’s helping me get more in tune with eywa,” he said. “i thought it would be good for me once i’m olo’eyktan.”

you took a shaky breath. “but she’s…so perfect. everyone thinks so.”

he chuckled. “she would be a formidable tsahik. but she’s not…” he sighed, rubbing your hips. “how could i mate her in a world where you exist?”

you gaped at him, the familiar heat returning now. you pushed it down, pushed away the hazy fog that came with it. “i don’t understand.”

he hummed, taking your hands. “how do i say this…? i see you. i see only you. it’s always been you.”

you understood the words fundamentally, yes, yet they made no sense. “you’ll be olo’eyktan.”

“yes.”

“i don’t—wari, it’s not me. please, don’t do this. my heart can’t take it. don’t lie to me like this. it’s hard enough that you’re with me during my heat.”

he kissed you again and you reciprocated. his lips trailed down to your neck and suckled and you gasped as he nipped your skin.

“it’s always been you,” he whispered.

you lay back against the blankets as he licked your torso. he gently cupped one of your breasts and sucked the nipple.

your back arched, skin alight with soft flames as he made his way down to your now sopping core. he kissed your lower lips once before straightening himself and stroking his erection.

you whined out for him as he teased your entrance with his tip. finally he slowly entered you, stretching you out. the brain fog that came with your heat was minimal and you felt all of him.

he rocked into you slowly, bending over to kiss you again as he moved his hips. your cries were swallowed by him and a shiver shot through you when his tongue explored your mouth.

the pace was slow and deep as his mouth trailed down to suck your breast, to nick at your neck, to kiss your shoulder, to worship your body as he gave you soft praises.

“my good girl,” he said. “my sweet girl.”

his words caressed you and the pressure in you rushed out. you trembled in his arms as a powerful orgasm shook you.

“yes, just like that,” he grunted, moving a bit faster now. “can you do it again? cum like this?”

you nodded, already feeling the telltale signs of another orgasm tingling in you.

“good,” he said before kissing you again.

he groaned as he felt you squeeze his cock with your walls. “just like that, yes, good girl.”

you were absolutely drunk on his cock, loving how it got harder the more turned on he got. it felt far too good.

“gonna cum wari,” you whined.

“cum for me, sweet girl. makes me so happy to see you cum,” he said.

you came again, the pleasure so great you saw only white. you heard tonowari swear as his rhythm stuttered, biting into your neck before he came inside of you.

the bite was hard, but didn’t hurt. not too much. but it took you a minute to realise what he had done, to realise he marked you as his.

he kissed you for what felt like the millionth time, deeply, feeling every part of you with his hands as though committing your body to memory. you kissed back, heart feeling light for the first time in what felt like months.

“it’s always been you,” he said when he broke the kiss. “i’ve wanted to ask for ages but i never could.”

you caressed the bite mark, it was a promise, a vow. “how long?”

he chuckled. “from the moment i met you, i think. it was admiration back then, but when we got older…”

you laughed at how similar you were. at how silly you’d been. but that feeling of unworthiness, it lingered still.

“i’m not…”

“you don’t have to be,” he reassured. “it’s always been you, remember. and it always will be.”

[prettyinpink350]

Trailer trash

Dark Bucky x innocent reader. Dad Bucky x mom reader. Bucky is mean! 18+ don’t let me catch some kids in here reading this! I mean it!

Smut, mentions of previous hitting but nothing hard enough to leave marks. Yelling. cursing. Mentions of rough sex. Baby crying. Unprotected sex. Reader kinda has Stockholm syndrome. Bucky calls reader mommy like twice. Daddy kink

“I wanna get outta here!” She yelled after him.

“I know! I know kitten! Trust me I’ve heard ya bitch and moan about it for four years!” Bucky yelled back at her.

Y/n in a fit walked away from him. Going down the small narrow hall of their trailer, Bucky’s anger getting the best of him like it always did. He walked fast to catch up to her, then yanking her back by her hair.

“Owwww! Get off me James! Now!” She cried out

“Fuck no! You think I’m gonna let the love of my life and the mother of my child fuckin leave me! Your insane! I ain’t lettin ya get a god damn mile out of this town! Your mine.” Bucky said in her face, his nose touching hers. Tears streaming her face as little James came paddling through the hallway with his bottle in hand. The two year old crying from the yelling, him being able to sense the stress off his mommy.

“Let me go James” y/n said slowly to her husband. He let go of her hair, only taking a step back. His jaw tightened and eyes glared at her.

Little James came as fast as his little legs would carry him to his mother. Y/n bending down to pick him she began to soothe him with her voice.

“I’m here baby boy, it’s okay. I love you”

“Y/n if you leave me, I’ll hunt you down and you don’t want to know the rest” Bucky said, the two of them looking right in each other’s eyes.

“I didn’t say I was leavin ya, alls I said was I wanted a better life! With money and a better safer home and environment for our family” she said crying, little James now asleep in her arms his head resting on her shoulder.

Bucky’s eyes softened at the view of her and his son. He stepped closer, bringing them in his arms. He held her as she cried into him.

“I’m so sorry baby girl, I didn’t mean to hurt ya. I was just scared and let my emotions get the best of me again” Bucky did this quite often, he’d pull her, yank her, slap her, spank her, shove her on the bed and give her rough sex when he would get to angry. He never hit her hard enough to leave any marks or bruises though.

Y/n and Bucky met when she was 18 and he was 21. She was the farmer’s daughter young innocent and beautiful. They met at one of Bucky’s gangs parties, Wanda y/n’s best friend had made her come. It was her first ever party and when she walked in, wearing her little white sundress and sneakers and big doe eyes Bucky almost fell to his knees.

The small town didn’t see much of her because her dad and mother were protective of her. Bucky could see why because she was a play boy model with curves for days and a virgin. He flirted with her and smooth talked her all night.

After that they fell in love and they got married after being together for only six months. they moved into together in Bucky’s trailer. Him promising that they’d move away to the city and have money but then she got pregnant with little James and suddenly their savings for moving were used for a baby.

he was all she ever knew in the big world except her parents.

“Love you y/n Barnes, I mean that. I will die if I don’t have you or my son in my life” he said into her hair.

“I love you James, I just want out of here” she said

“I know, we’ll get there one day” he said in return “come on let’s go put the little slobber monster in his crib”

She giggles through her tears at what her husband said about her son because it was true he slobbered everywhere. They laid him down, watching for moment as he slept. He was perfect.

“Let’s go sexy mama, I wanna see my pussy” he whispered in his girls ear and slapped her bum. She giggled again now the sadness and hurt fading away because she knew Bucky would never hurt her on purpose he had problems and he didn’t mean to get rough it was an accident, that’s what he said all the other times. He would beg for forgiveness and little y/n’s heart couldn’t take it, she loved him and she couldn’t stand to see him hurt. So she took him back every time because to her it was normal. They both walked into their room

“Go get that lingerie I got you” he told her as he sat at the end of the bed naked. Cock in hand stroking in slow movements.

Y/n came out of their bathroom in a pink set of lace panties and bra, that were crotch less. Her soft pink bare pussy lips wet, her heavy tits looked so soft like pillows. Her nipples hard.

“Get your sweet ass over here” Bucky said his eyes filled with lust and love. She walked over to him standing between his legs.

He pulled her down on top of him, y/n now straddling him. He lined his hard 10 inch thick shaft with an angry pink tip leaking pre cum up to her tight hole. Pushing in, both moaned.

“God damn I don’t know how you’re so tight after taking me so many times and havin my baby” he said through a clenched mouth trying not be too rough with her.

“I love you James” she moaned when he stated to bounce her up and down in his cock.

“Love you too baby doll” Bucky flipped her over on her back, him now on top of her. His thrusts hard, he pulled down her bra sucking on her hard nipples.

“JAMMMMMESSS!” She moan loudly

“Shhhh honey, we can’t wake up the baby now” he said while he gave her a particular hard thrust as a warning.

“You’re such a good mommy baby girl. Feeding my boy with these tits and you’d save the the rest for me remember? I miss that” Bucky lifted her right leg up higher up to get deeper in her pussy. Y/n was so close to cumming tears were leaking from her eyes

“I’m gonna cum daddy!” She said breathy

“I’m close too, come on mama come with me” Bucky gave four more hard thrusts before they both were cumming

“Fuck yeah! I’m gonna get you pregnant again mommy. I’m gonna drink your milk and your gonna look so good pregnant with my babies again.” Bucky said well cumming making y/n moan at his words

“I want your babies Jamie! All your babies!” She cried out before at kissing him.

Bucky rolled over, both of them on their sides now. His cock still in her pussy, the two snuggled together.

“Love ya sexy mommy, you aint ever fuckin leavin me ya hear”

“I know daddy, I can’t live without you either. I love you too” she kissed his shoulder and then drifted off to sleep

[jongseongsnudes]

twenty five.

warning; ⛵ 1.2k words.

masterlist.

“i’m so happy you guys could make it!” sooji hugs you tightly as she says so, ecstatic the moment you stepped through the entrance, “you look so beautiful, i definitely have some competition tonight at my own event.”

competition. how ironic. you weren’t her competition.

“you’re just being nice sooji but thank you.”

your words has her in giggles, her hand rubbing your arm sweetly as if she’s known you all her life, “i have to greet some guests. i’ll find you guys in a bit okay?”

“what a joke,” beomgyu leans down to comment as you both watch sooji walk away, the man shrugging at the sight, “i don’t think she’s even your competition love, you’re both on completely different tiers.”

“oh my god beomgyu you can’t say that!”

“choi beomgyu speaks the truth only, unfortunately.”

you can’t help but laugh at his usual non sense, your hand going up to playfully cover his mouth. it’s something you’ve been doing quite a bit of as of lately with how much the man loved to joke so inappropriately all the time, especially in settings like this.

as you’re busy joking around, you suddenly get that feeling. when someone’s staring at you from afar and true to your intuitions, someone really is.

you spot sunghoon in the corners of your eyes, making his way towards you and like every other time, your knees literally buckle. his eyes are on you, a soft grin plastered across his face. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t immediately elicit something from you, your poor stomach doing that cliched backflip just from the sight of the man. but there’s an additional feeling to that, a hint of uneasiness, something you’ve been feeling a lot lately when it came to sunghoon.

and it’s definitely not a good thing.

“wow. breath taking aren’t you, step sis?” sunghoon’s shameless gaze up and down your dress was a little too daring if you could say so yourself but it’s the way he leans in to hug you that has you holding your breath. his arm is so tightly around the smalls of your waist, pulling you right into him, embracing you as if no one is around.

you almost melt, having his cologne so rudely intrude all your senses at once. one you’ve always loved.

“you need to be gentle, brother in law,” you hear beomgyu say as his hand clasps your shoulder, pulling you slightly back and away from your step brother, “or you’ll suffocate my poor fiancé.”

beomgyu’s seemingly innocent words seems to evoke something from sunghoon, evident from his raised brows and taunting smirk.

“i like to believe that i’m always gentle when it comes to her,” your step brother scoffs as he says so, the innuendo so obvious, you’re sure anyone would’ve picked it up. “wouldn’t you say so-”

“ah actually i just remembered! i need to talk to sunghoon about something regarding my mum,” you grab onto sunghoon’s arm, interrupting the man mid sentence, “we’ll be right back.”

you manage to act as normal as possible while practically dragging your step brother through the crowd, only letting go once you’re both around the corner and out of everyone’s view.

“are you out of your mind? people are going to get suspicious if you keep saying things like that.”

he looks down at you as though you’ve said something so outrageous, his eyes glaring holes into your face. the man is evidently displeased, lips pursed in a straight line and brows dawning over his eyes, an expression you used to see so often when you first met him. 

“i am out of my mind,” he laughs mockingly, “because while i’m trying to stop your marriage with choi, you go cuddling up with him instead.”

“your date is literally right around this corner sunghoon, you have no right to get mad at me for acting my role!”

you were barely one to raise your voice, ever, but this situation felt so unfair that you just had to. like the man was blaming the entirety of it all on you while knowing that you had no say.

“acting your role? if you’re like that in public, how are you at home? do you fuck him and call it acting-”

slap.

your mind didn’t process what had happened until it was too late, your hand now numb from colliding with sunghoon’s cheek a moment earlier.

you’ve dealt with a nasty sunghoon since day one but this was getting too much for you to handle. this whole back and forth thing was getting tiring, something people were bound to catch onto. especially beomgyu, sooji and worse, mr park.

“how can you say that...” your voice trembles with every word, tears now forming in your eyes, all your built up frustration finally spilling over, “i- i can’t believe you... sunghoon. i’m done.”

if you were unsure where your relationship stood with this man before you came here tonight, well you were certain about it now.

there was never any hope and there never will be.

“is... is everything okay guys?”

sooji’s sudden soft voice breaks the intense stare down between you and your step brother, both of you having been too immersed in the situation to even notice her standing barely a metre away... with your fiancé right behind her.

you’re internally freaking out over the possibility of them having heard your conversation but the way beomgyu walks over to you with such soften eyes tells you otherwise.

“tell me what’s wrong,” he carefully wipes your tears away as he asks, his tone full of concern, just like the expression on his face. it’s a look you’ve never seen from him before, from someone so obnoxiously flirty, so usually unserious.

the air around you gets ten times thicker when he suddenly glances to sunghoon, as if immediately sensing that your tears had something to do with the man. you don’t miss the way he turns his entire body that way, the two of them ready for confrontation but confrontation was definitely not what you needed more of tonight.

“just some stuff at home but... everything’s fine. can we go grab a drink please?” you were quick to grab onto your fiancé’s arm to get his attention back on you but unfortunately you don’t only get his, you gain your step brother’s as well. sunghoon simply scoffs at the sight like it didn’t affect him but you know it did.

“of course. anything you want,” a smile appears on beomgyu’s face again as he looks down at how you’re holding him, relief with a hint of amazement in his eyes. patting your hand with his, the man pulls you along, taking you away from a situation that shouldn’t have been one to begin with.

the situation being park sunghoon.

end.

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[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | two | three

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Julianna is a real princess. As the niece of the Queen, her title is official. She’s been a princess all her life, and it’s a detail you can’t miss. 

James’ hand is hot but amicable against your shoulder blade. He hasn’t stepped away from you since Julianna arrived, though what threat she poses has yet to be seen. She doesn’t seem particularly volatile. You can’t imagine her in all her dewy skin and fine clothing lifting a finger, let alone her fist. 

“Mama says you’re an artist,” she drawls. 

“Not really.” How her mother knows anything about you is a mystery. “It’s a hobby, is all.” 

“And you didn’t finish university?”

“No.” You don’t owe her anything. You know you don’t. But it’s not just her you want to defend yourself to, not when Remus is sitting by the window of the parlour and James is close enough to hear your heartbeat. “I tried to, obviously, but I couldn’t, uh, afford to not work.”

“Ah.”

You don’t expect her to understand it. You know most people don't. Studying and working, the majority can handle both. You’d been ashamed of yourself for failing, but you’d come to the realisation that it was sink or swim. You could sink —hate yourself for being a little more fragile than others, for needing more time, more space, more accommodation— or you could swim. Accept your ‘shortcomings’. Make the most of what you have. 

Find yourself in a foreign country surrounded by the highly educated and the ridiculously wealthy. People who might never comprehend why you’ve struggled, or how. 

In that moment, you decide to treat this heart-wrenching trip as nothing more than a holiday. James is nice to you. The food is free and apparently plentiful. The grounds… 

Fuck, the grounds. The scenery. The royals aren’t currently living in their most famous residence, Loswell Castle, but are instead mourning the Prince at the more private and more subtle Bellaverden House. Subtle, yet gorgeous. The grass is green and stretches as far as the eye can see in all directions, broken up only by the silhouette of the alps to the east and the shimmering Lake Orlo to the west. The palace itself is nothing like you’d expected, and so far from the capital city of Genovia it is no surprise to find that the royals let their personal tastes bleed into every corner. It’s tasteful, silent wealth, no crystal chandeliers hanging from the eaves but instead a Rembrandt in the hallway. No solid gold cutlery, but instead Noritake porcelain tea cups and their matching exorbitant saucers.

“Loswell is the gaudier of the two houses,” James had said, evidently pleased by your wide-eyed surprise.

A nice boy who’s being paid to spend time with you and his funny friends. All you have to do is survive the paparazzi (check!) and your suspicious possible relatives (less so).

Any hour now, the paternity test will come up negative and they’ll be shepherding you home in search of the actual princess, wherever she may be. 

If she exists at all. 

“You haven’t eaten anything today,” James says softly, for your ears only. “Should we go down to the kitchens?”

It’s hard to describe the true and daunting scale of the palace, but James’ use of ‘kitchens’ rather than ‘kitchen’ sums it up nicely. 

Julianna rolls her shoulders, reaching for a black telephone on the side table. “No need. We’ll have it brought up. What do you like? They have yards of fresh pasta prepared by now. Doesn’t matter, I’ll ask for some of everything.”

“Oh, no,” you say, stepping out of James' reach. “I don’t want to be an imposition while I’m here.”

“That ship has sailed,” she says neatly. 

Ouch. You look back to James without intending to, an automatic movement. He’s become your safety net too quickly. His job is to protect you from harm, not your catty maybe-cousin’s mild disdain. 

“Sit,” Julianna says. “James, you can take up station in the hallway. Go on.”

Her voice possesses all the snobbish airiness you’d expect it to. She’s regal, elegant, and rude. James’ hand stretches toward yours, but your skin never touches. You think it might be his silent way of saying he won’t be far.

He gives you a reassuring look, not quite smiling. “If you need me,” he says. 

“Tutor,” Julianna adds once James is at the door, “you can leave us.”

“Remus, please.” You smile at Julianna appealingly, piping up before she can steal your last lifeline. “I need him to tell me what silverware to use. If I have any hope of catching up, I’ll have to start learning about proper etiquette straight away.”

You look to your tutor to make sure he’s on board. Remus gestures for you to sit and crosses the hardwood floors between you, his soft shoes barely making a sound. Julianna sniffs, your suggestion agreeable but tiresome for her, and pulls the telephone receiver to her ear. 

Remus settles into the chair next to yours at the table. 

“Don’t worry. We won’t leave you for wolves,” he says.

You’re grateful. You nod to the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He turns the book around. A Comprehensive History of Contemporary Genovia. 

“I’ve never had to educate someone who didn’t already know a very specific, very intricate history of our country,” he says in his rough voice, the barest hints of his accent peaking through. He says our country like you already belong as he does, not native but citizen anyhow. “Honestly, I provide supplementary education for the well-educated, I… I’m like a second chance for rich slackers. You’re neither, and so I’m unsure how I can make this easy on you.”

You admire his thinking. You’ve been lucky to find yourself in the care of people who put your comfort first. Remus, James, Sirius, even the ambassadors of the country, and the matron you’d been introduced to upon your arrival here, they’ve all been so conscientious. 

But it won’t matter. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“You do?”

“You’ve made it clear how much faith you have in the current situation. I believe…” that you’re who we suspect you are, you think he might say, but he parts his legs to bump his knee into yours. “I believe we’re going to be good friends.”

That is… “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He nods.

“So, what’s with the bruise?” Julianna asks abruptly. “And the bad makeup. Mean boyfriend back home?”

Her cavalier attitude rubs you the wrong way immediately. “I was a little too close to the door when someone opened it.”

“Ah.”

Again with the Ah. Extra syllables must be at cost. 

Positivity, you remind yourself. This is a vacation. This inane and insane need to constantly prove yourself to the people around you is going to make you crazy, especially when all of this is temporary. Who cares what princess Julianna thinks of you now when, in a day or two, she’ll remember you as nothing more than the girl who they brought by mistake? And wouldn’t it be nice to just… not care? Who cares what Julianna thinks. 

You stand and walk to the door where James is standing, because calling for him would make you feel like an entitled dick. He turns his head to you obligingly. 

“Would you come back inside?” you ask. “The painting is giving me the heebies.”

“That’s a portrait of your great great grandmother.”

“She’s scary.”

He claps your shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. “If the test comes out negative, princess, I’ll happily commit royal espionage for you and fix the results.”

“That is not a joke you should make,” Remus calls mildly. 

“Probably not. I’ve made it now. Sit down, princess, the food’s arriving.”

The food they bring up to you is incredible. Genovian cuisine is actually mostly stolen from the Italians, and how fortunate you are for that. You have no clue where to start, surrounded by rich smells of broth and stewed vegetables, the spritely aroma of white wine and tomatoes so fresh their roasted skins split under the gentle bottom of your spoon. 

James refuses to eat with you, as he’s on the clock, but Remus sits down at the table as promised to guide you through the fascinatingly awful etiquette of a new royal. 

“That’s Cioppino,” Remus says, pointing to a dark red stew bragging large pieces of crab, smaller chunks of a white meat you’re unsure of, and the distinct dark brackets of mussel shells. “It’s actually an Italian-American dish. It’s served with sourdough or french bread, but in our case, where you can’t necessarily use your hands, we’ll go without.”

“Well, there’s nobody here I need to impress, right?” you ask quietly. 

You swear you can hear Julianna twitching. 

He ignores your comment, but his voice is riddled with amusement when he says, “It’s more common for the crab to be served in its shell, but I don’t suppose they want the royals using crab forks and crackers." He points to a second bowl. “This, from the looks of it, is a variation of stufato di capra e fagioli, Italian for ‘stew of goat meat and beans’. Self explanatory. It’s very popular here in the winter, it’s,” —his voice drops to a lower register— “Sirius’ favourite. Shoulder meat, onions, carrots, celery, white wine and white beans. I don’t suppose I have to tell you what that is.” He nods to a heaping bowl of gnocchi coated in a green, buttery sauce, and its familiar wingman — fettuccine alfredo. 

“Now there’s one I know,” you say with a smile. 

“I think they’ve gone easy on you,” Remus says. “Given you something they knew would be familiar. The head cooks, Marl and Marsha, hardly ever serve fettuccine without ragù di pollo. Chicken ragù. It’s a sacrament in Marlene’s eyes to separate the two.”

He moves so easily from English to Italian. You wonder if he speaks Genovian. Is there a Genovian language? You’re too embarrassed to ask, and instead pile some unadventurous fettuccine into your bowl. 

Julianna picks up the telephone again and you let yourself relax as her conversation begins. She picks at her food and talks in Italian down the line, staring straight at you as she says the word, ‘principessa’. You don’t have to be a linguistics expert to know she’s talking about you. Eventually, her attention fades. Remus relaxes with you. 

“This spoon,” he corrects, before opening his book and sagging into his seat.

You're famished, but now all this rich food is making you feel sick. You pick at your fettuccine alfredo and a little of the cioppino. Weirdly, you miss the ordinary smells of your kitchen. You think you might prefer a white bread sandwich and a packet of crisps.  

A figure moves behind you, James shadow shifting to cover your hands. “Unladylike it might be,” he says, “but you’ll regret it if you don’t try the bread, princess. Freshly baked, pretty much soaked in pesto, it’s what us peasant folk fight over at the end of a shift.”

You hold your hand to a beautiful sliced baguette, “This one?”

“That’s the one.”

You pull the bread apart and enter a stodgy, olive oily sort of heaven. The only thing better than how it tastes is James' happy sound when you set aside a huge slice in a napkin and usher it behind your back, as inconspicuous as you can possibly be about it. He has no choice but to take it. You don’t look, but a telltale crunch comes quickly and poorly smothered. 

Julianna excuses herself, and a maid, maybe, comes to take her plates and dirtied cutler on a silver cart. You lean toward Remus with a hand over your mouth. “What do you call them? The ladies in uniform.”

“Princess, you could call them whatever you wanted to,” James butts in. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and sits in one of the chairs facing the door and windows. He’s always on the alert.

“But what’s nicest? I don’t want to be offensive.”

“You’ll learn their names in time,” Remus says easily. “You’ll be fine. Officially, they’re ‘attendants’. Maids, cleaners. Oh, you’ll have a lady in waiting–”

“A what?” 

“A personal assistant,” James says. 

Your face heats up like an instant flush, all hot pinpricks and embarrassment, “No,” you beg, standing up, “please, that would be entirely unnecessary, it’s not like I’m some sort of–”

“Princess!” A familiar voice shouts. Sirius has weaselled inside the door and closed it tight, his back pressed against it for a moment like he’s keeping someone out. He wears an exuberant smile and a brilliant dark ensemble with fine pinstripes that mess with your eyes as he approaches. He’s practically running. “I’ve spoken to Delilah who’s spoken to Bella who’s spoken to Lily who’s been in contact with the legal team in charge of Y/N’s care here in Genovia, and they’ve heard from the medical team who have been fighting tooth and nail to be put in talks with you,” —he looks at you now, and there’s something about his expression, part wide-eyed awe, part sympathy, that freezes you to the spot— “because it’s technically your care, and–”

“Sirius, mate, just put her out of her misery,” James says. He’s looking at you in a different way. Like he’s waiting for you to fall over. 

“Your father,” Sirius says, promptly deciding to start again. “The paternity test came out positive. Your DNA is a match for the Prince, may he rest in peace. You’re a princess. You’re the princess, by blood. You’re a Thermopolis.”

There’s a stretching silence. You wrap your hand around the back of your chair and stare at the velvet upholstery of the seat. 

“Terrible last name,” he adds sympathetically. 

You don’t want to be the girl who faints. That would be ridiculous, to fall over and crack your head. So, though you hate to ask for anything, you mumble, “James?”

He wraps a shapely arm behind your back and under your armpit before you lose the feeling in your legs. 

“I think I need to sit down again,” you say. 

“Reckon you do," he agrees, as he pulls the chair out with his foot and arranges you in it efficiently, the tip of his thumb pushed into the pulse point on your neck. “We’ll get you something cold, princess. You can breathe.” He gives you a little shake, hand spreading wider as it drags down your collar. The pressure is like the safety release of a suction cup. You take in a huge breath. “Breathe. There’s a good girl.”

“I’m fine," you say meekly. 

“It’s alright,” he says, with his impossible softness. He’s unafraid to be kind, even when there are people watching. 

“I’m fine. I–” You can’t finish your sentence. You’d wanted to say you’ll be okay. That this is just some melodramatic episode, but it isn’t. This is a human reaction to unbelievable news. Because you’re a– you’re a princess. 

You cover your face with both hands and curl in toward your thighs. Silence pervades, your ears abuzz with white noise. You aren’t sure how long you sit there paralysed, but soon James’ gentle murmuring and shushing cuts through the ringing. “It’s alright,” he’s saying, his hand at your elbow, “I swear, it’s alright. You take as long as you need.”

“Mickey’s at the door,” Sirius says. 

“Good. Tell him to radio in a level two security detail and stay by the door. Who else knows, Sirius?”

“By now? Everybody in the castle. Including government officials.”

“And you’re sure?” 

Sure said severely. 

“Of course I am.”

You’re trying very hard to keep your pasta down. This can’t be happening. It can’t be right. Their test is wrong. They swabbed the inside of your mouth wrong, or got it mixed up with some other person test, or the doctors are lying. Not once in your whole life has there ever been any indication that you are more than the nothing you’ve always been. All your worst insecurities rip to the surface. Not me. Not me.

“Level two isn’t as bad as it sounds,” James says gently. He’s been talking to you again. “All it means is that I’m not at full attention, and I need someone else to watch the room. That’s all it is.”

“I’m not,” you say. 

“You’re okay.”

“I’m not a princess,” you say, peeking at him through your parted fingers. 

His hand curves around your arm. He pulls it toward him. Encouraging rather than demanding. You let him. 

“Whatever it is that you are,” he says, meeting your eyes, “I’m here to take care of you. Okay? Try to calm down for me.” He nods, hoping you’ll nod back no doubt. You worry at your lip, your teeth scratching delicate skin. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No one’s expecting you to feel a certain way right now,” Sirius says. The urgency in his expression has departed completely. He has an air of regret about him now, an uncomfortable set to his jaw. 

It’s not just James in the room witnessing your wobble. You cover your face again and try to become one with the furniture. 

James stands off of his knees, having seemingly decided that you aren’t in any mental peril. He stays hovering behind your chair. You think you might’ve found them all at a loss for what to do. 

The door opens. You imagine a nightmare, Julianna coming to play nice, but it’s the British ambassador Lily once again. She looks as perfect as she did when you saw her last with an immaculately straightened sheet of hair fluttering behind her, her steps hurried. Despite her speed, she doesn’t look unhappy. She’s smiling. Genovian ambassador (in particular, the ambassador that facilitated your movements between the two countries and the establishment of your dual citizenship status) Emmaline follows behind her. 

You try to straighten up. 

“We have wonderful news,” Lily says.

“You’re the princess!” Emmaline squeaks, her tiny stature no bounds for her excitement. “Welcome home!”

She begins clapping. It slows when nobody joins in. 

“What?” she asks cluelessly. “Has something bad happened?”

That’s what you’re trying to work out.

—

James can hear you sniffling.

He rests his shoulders against the wall by your bedroom door and sighs. You'd held it together for hours now after the announcement, but Sirius' last amendment had toppled you over. 

You have to meet your grandmother tomorrow to begin preparing for your father's funeral. 

James thinks you might have reached your breaking point. He can't imagine the grief of losing a father you didn't know you had, and the stress of being pulled out of your life so suddenly, carted across Europe and left under the judgemental eyes of royals and officials with little direction. Now that the paternity test has been conclusively positive and checked by many, many professionals, your confirmed identity should hopefully provide a more stable schedule. From James perspective, the days ahead will be easy. For you, they are going to be very, very hard. 

You'll meet the Queen tomorrow at breakfast. The plans for your permanent residency in Genovia will be decided. Your entire life is about to change, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 

Well… James doesn't really want you to stop it, but it's not entirely true that you can't. You could reject your heritage and go home to your flat, your art, your degree equivalent classes. Maybe you're crying because you're scared you don't have options. 

James thinks about knocking on the door to talk to you. He meant it when he said he has a duty to all aspects of your health, the mental as well as the physical, but it's difficult to define the line between professionalism and being friendly. He's already crossed it. 

He sighs and rubs his weary head. He's fucking tired. Today has been the longest day ever. You'd slept for an hour in the car from the airport to Bellaverden Castle, and James had watched you half jealous and half enraptured. He won't mind looking after you no matter how you look, but your being easy on the eyes is a brilliant plus. Well, when ignoring the huge bruise staining your cheek. 

"Fuck," he says. 

He hasn't been doing very well. Honestly, his failure to keep you from harm in your flat (even if the harm had been him) and then his screw up with the paparazzi… 

He pulls out his pager. He should swap with one of the night guards now and he trusts them all, having picked them himself, but he wouldn't feel right walking away while you're crying. 

He clicks in Remus' code and waits until he hears it back. It's shorthand between them. If he wasn't awake or didn't want to see him, Remus could've ignored James' page and there'd be no hard feelings. But he answered. Tonight, once James has made sure you're okay, he'll crawl into Remus' bed like when they were kids in a cold dormitory and missing home and sleep for a glorious eight hours. He might even tell Remus how stressed he is. He knows his friend will listen. 

He'd invite Sirius, of course, (and that's assuming he isn't already there) but it's well past ten. Sirius is definitely asleep. 

James hasn't had a proper night's sleep in a week. He feels poorly. He misses his mum. He's hungry. This job is great, he loves what he does; he gets paid to take care of people. It's also too much. It eats at him. 

"Fuck," he says again. 

"James?" 

He flinches hard. 

There it is, his third mistake. He's very lucky that the chief of royal security is busy making funeral arrangements, because if Mary were here she'd gut him. 

You've crept up on him in his distraction and that is so fucking dangerous. How could he not notice your footsteps across the floor, or your door handle's heavy metallic thunking?

"Princess," he says, biting his tongue when you wince. He'll have to call you something else. "I'm sorry, I–" James squints at your sore eyes. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to ask… are you alright?" 

His shoulders hunch slightly. "Am I alright?" 

You fluster. "I just heard you and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You sounded… stressy." 

"You don't have to worry about me. That's my job." He frowns at the remnants of your tear stains, dampness shining at the corners of your eyes and your lashes sticking together in darkened triangles. "I was just about to come and see you, actually. I know today's been hard, and I know I haven't helped you. I'm so sorry, again, for your cheek. And at the airport, I know the scuffle with that photographer didn't help your nerves. I know," he stresses, "this is hard. I swear things will be smoother from now on. You have my word." 

You rub your elbow wordlessly. He's about to backtrack, or perhaps dig himself a bigger hole, but you look up at him and give him one of the softest smiles anyone's ever given him in all his years. 

"It's forgiven. Believe me, James, this is the least of my worries," you say, gesturing to your cheek. It only takes a second for shame to stick its hooks in you, yanking your gaze to the floor. You're wearing an expression he's seen a thousand times on the people closest to him. 

He flicks you under the chin gently. 

"Things are gonna get easier. I swear it," he says.

You plaster a smile on. James figures he can push it some more and wipes the smudgy shine of old tears off your cheek. 

"There. Looking good, angel." 

Definitely unprofessional. He keeps getting this weird feeling like you're his friend and not his charge. It's fleeting and it's making him stupid. This and the sleep deprivation. He swears to himself he'll be better tomorrow. 

You bid him goodnight. He listens to your night time motions until another guard comes to release him from duty. James rushes to his room for a shower and a cereal bar, giving his teeth a half-hearted brush before setting off for Remus' room halfway across the castle. Remus and the other scarcely employed scholars don't have to sleep in the servants' quarters like he and Sirius do. Schmuck. 

He finds the door unlatched. Mercifully, James decides to spare them both the safety related lecture. He tries to be as quiet as he can, but a head of sandy brown hair turns his way. 

"James?" Remus asks, his voice thick with fatigue. 

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep." 

"I was waiting for you. Drifted off." 

James scrubs a hand through his damp hair and knocks off the light. He can find his way in the dark. 

"Sirius isn't here?" 

"James…"

"What, are we still pretending?"

"James."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me, Moony." 

"Yeah. Don't lean on my left side. I'll move over." 

"What's wrong with your left side?" 

"I don't know. Maybe from carrying the bags. Maybe not." 

James slides into the warm space Remus has made for him and tries not to go into overprotective mode. Loving someone who's constantly in pain can be confusing. You don't know how much love you're allowed to give before it starts to look patronising.

Remus can take care of himself, but he doesn't need to. 

"Anything I can do?" James whispers. 

"Tell me what's bothering you." 

"Oh, you know… Everything. Nothing. I'm so happy we're all together again, I mean, what are the fucking odds? How long has it been since I could come and see you guys after work without making an appointment? And I didn't love the Prince, but I hate that he's dead, and I…" 

Remus turns his head to James. They're a pillow apart. When James looks at him, he can't remember what he looked like when they were young, but he can feel the years of knowing one another stretching out between them. A straining curtain of yellow light from the hallway catches the edges of Remus' features. James can see the corner of an uneven smile. 

"Go on," Remus says quietly. 

"She's nice. She's really nice. I don't want her to get hurt."

"James, you don't want anyone to get hurt." 

"I thought this was a demotion." 

"Isn't it?" 

"If it is, it's one I deserve. I deserve another one. Once Mary sees the mess I've made…" 

Remus reaches across the sheets to pinch James' bicep. "Nobody is good at their new job. Sirius didn't touch up the princess' bruise when we got off the plane, and while they're paid off for now, someone who needs the better payout is going to publish those photos, and soon. Sirius should've been doing his job, but he was too busy looking after me." 

"I tried to cover it–" 

"I know. You did a good job and I'm not blaming you, Prongs, anyway. My point is that he made a mistake. Does he deserve a demotion?" 

"Ew. Hate you." 

"And I should've better prepared her for meeting Princess Julianna. It was my fault that she felt embarrassed. I tried my best to fit in some coaching for breakfast tomorrow but the poor girl doesn't know a butter knife from a paring knife." 

"That's not true." 

"No," Remus agrees. "I'm making her seem less educated than she is to prove my own point… James, she isn't a princess. She has the blood, and soon she'll get the official title, the land and the money and the education and maybe some of the bad bits, as well. But right now, she's new to being a princess, and she's not very good at it." 

"I get it." 

"Yeah, I know." 

Remus readjusts in bed. James almost misses the pain in his friend's exhale under the sound of crunching fresh sheets. 

"Are you sure I can't do something for you?" 

"I wish," Remus says. He isn't depressed. The opposite, he sounds way too spritely for the time. "You could stop hogging the blankets, for starters." 

James feeds Remus some more blanket and sighs. The mattress is heavenly. The quilts and sheets and pillowcases are soft and thick. By all means, James should've fallen asleep the second his head touched anything mildly comfortable. 

"You've asked Mickey to look after her tomorrow, right?" Remus asks. 

James had radio'd Mikkelson after his shower to put the early morning shift and protocols in his jurisdiction temporarily. That means James will hopefully be able to sleep until his body feels like it can hold itself together again. He doesn't like leaving you to face the Queen by yourself, but it's not as if she'll hurt you, and Sirius will see you bright and early to help you get dressed. James isn't worried. 

"I have. How did you know that?" 

"You're the only one of us who knows how to properly take care of themselves," Remus explains easily. "Good. I'm glad you did. You haven't been sleeping."

"How do you know that?" 

"I love you. I know everything about you." 

James smiles at the ceiling. Beams. There is nothing quite as valuable to him than his family. He would do more to keep them all safe and healthy than he should admit on the record, so he keeps it all tucked inside and out of view. It's terrifying and freeing at once to look at someone you love and know you're going to do something awful one day if it means they'll come out on the other side of it alive. 

"Not everything," he murmurs. 

"Everything, James."

"Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up right now." 

"One." 

"Which?" 

"Middle."

"Lucky guess." James laughs at their childish squabbling. "I love you too. I'm really glad we're in the same place again."

"What did you say? What are the fucking odds?" Remus quotes, so tired now that his words are running together. "I'm not sod enough to do the maths, I think it's gotta be deep in the decimals. Lily's and Mary's involvement definitely helped, but to have someone come along who needs security detail, special education, and a lady in waiting is unfathomable." 

James laughs and feels his abdomen shaking. "I'm telling Sirius you called him a lady in waiting." 

"Sorry," Remus says, and James knows his friend is genuinely repentant, even though Sirius would've laughed himself if he'd heard the joke. "I'm not trying to put him down. He's worked so hard, he– He's working so hard. He thinks it's easy work because he's good at it. He doesn't realise it's easy because he worked very very hard to be good at it." 

James has to chew it over for a moment to understand what Remus is saying. Once he understands, he vehemently agrees. Sirius is skilled in so many areas. He can style both a model and their wardrobe spontaneously. He's a media liaison, a sleuth, a sweet talker. He understands the inner workings of Western media — Sirius can deduce the honesty of a smile from a precursory glance. He may not always trust what he's seeing, but he sees it undeniably. 

"He's the best of us," James sighs agreeably, stretching down the length of the bed until his spine pops and his calves burn. "Shit. I need to start working out properly again now we're here." 

"Tomorrow. We'll figure it all out tomorrow, James. Go to sleep." 

James is obedient. He falls asleep, and doesn’t wake until the sun is warming his cheeks. His hair is still damp and he feels awful in a new way. Better for having slept with someone close by, and catching up on the hours he’s been missing. But his back is stiff. 

He goes back to his room. His neck aches as he brushes his teeth. He does a workout in the small space of his room and stretches out his rigid limbs until he feels human again. 

The black telephone on his nightstand starts to ring. He hates them. He wishes the royals would go back to bells. 

“Hello, sir,” Lily says cheerfully down the line. James can picture her sweet smile. “I couldn’t help but notice your absence this morning.”

“How did it go?” he asks, trying to tug on a new pair of socks one handed. 

Lily hums. “It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t good, but it could’ve been worse. Her majesty liked her. Y/N was quiet, she was awkward, but we all know they prefer quiet to mouthy. The last thing they wanted was another Julianna. I felt kind of bad, really. Like I was handing her over.”

“She…” James sighs. “She didn’t seem upset, did she, Lils?”

“No, I actually think she was feeling good. Your boys took good care of her.”

“Brilliant. Oh, and to answer your unasked question, I’m being slovenly. I’ll be back on duty by noon.”

“Slovenly,” she repeats. “I’ve never known you to be any sort of lazy.” She laughs. James is happy that the sound doesn’t break his heart anymore. “Alright, James. I’ll see you later.”

He appreciates what she’s doing, letting him know you’re okay while he’s away. It’s uncanny how fast the people in charge of your care can band together. 

James gives himself a minute to wipe away yesterday and prepare for today. He closes his eyes and shakes his head ferociously, his hair flying every which way. He sorts through all his worries one by one, letting that anxiety eat at him methodically —he’s a bad bodyguard, he’s a bad friend, he doesn’t call his mum enough, he’s chicken shit scared of dying alone, the works— and then pushing it away. Today is a new day with new opportunities. He can prove to you and to himself that he’s good at his job, he can make sure his friends are doing alright, he can call his mum tonight before dinner, and dying alone? He isn’t dying today. So that one’s on the back burner. 

He makes his way from his room in the quarter and into the main building, wary that he might come upon a duke or duchess. His radio, clipped as it always is against his left shoulder, chirps with chatter. He bites back a scolding about keeping the line clear and looks out the huge glass windows at the grounds below. A marble water fountain spurts proudly at the foot of the stairs, and an elaborate hedgework stands at pruned attention. It’s a nice day. He wonders if you’ll be up for walking. 

He looks for you in the secondary parlour, the den, the library, the dining room. He swings by your room, and when you aren’t there he admits defeat and unclamps his radio, cutting through an inappropriate joke unapologetically. 

“Afternoon. Location on Princess Y/N?”

He imagines his subordinates scrambling to answer, embarrassed by their unprofessionalism, but it’s likely they just don’t know where you are. 

“If I don’t get an answer in the next five seconds, you can all expect to be running laps tonight. That includes you, Mikkelson, I don’t care how much overtime–”

“Sir, this is Daniels. Me and Roma are with the princess in the south wing.”

“Why?”

“She wanted a pencil sharpener.”

James grins to himself. The south wing (or, as James might put it, the guest wing), houses the scholars, the ambassadors, and whatever government official the royals are trying to butter up at the time. He’s feeling positively joyful when he finds you, sketching away with your face pressed to the window. The genovian mountainscapes take shape on your page one confident stroke of graphite at a time, a small leather bound sketchbook pressed flat to your knee.

“Settling in?” he asks. 

You raise your head but not your eyes. “You could say that.”

“How was meeting Her Majesty?”

You frown. 

“That bad?” he asks. 

“No, I mean. You know. She’s a queen. It was terrifying.”

Despite your unhappy mouth, you look as relaxed as you have since the moment he met you. You’re in what’s clearly a casual Genovian dress, what with the subtle but remarkable stitching a shade darker than the dress itself and the squared neckline. Your calves are out and glossy in the daylight. They’re rather distracting. 

“You look good,” James says carefully. 

“I’ll miss the fancy lotions,” you say. Your pencil scratches away. 

James’ hands falter where they’re clasped behind his back. “What?”

You meet his eyes properly. He hadn’t realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you weren’t, your face ringed with guilt, an explanation slow to come. 

“I’m not staying. I can’t be a princess, James.” You shake your head mildly. “I’m going home.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading! oh no, you want to go home!! rest assured, james and co aren’t letting you go too easily. i hope you enjoyed, reblogs are always appreciated, a thousand kisses for all of you either way <3<3

[brooooswriting]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Jenna Ortega x Reader fic. In which they were best friends as kids with the same dream of being an actor. Then by becoming an actress Jenna moved away from R because of her busy schedule. After several years without speaking to each other, they find themselves both engaged to play in Wednesday. PS: I love your work. Also sorry for the mistakes I don't speak English.

Long time ago

Jenna Ortega x reader

A/n: I still had this in my drafts and decided to post it, I don’t like the way it ends but I couldn’t think of something better. So enjoy :)

“Since when did you want to become an actress?” The interviewer asked the brunette in front of him, Jenna Ortega. “Oh, since I was a child. My best friend back then and I always had this dream of becoming actors and you know, take over Hollywood, I guess in some way it did come true” she answered, a smile gracing over her features.

It was you, you were the ‘best friend’ she was talking about you. It was your biggest dream to become and actress and by now you finally had some roles but you weren’t as big as Jenna. The girl who kind of ghosted you a couple of years ago, well 2 years and 4 months to be exact, but whose counting right? Well, you were as you were still hurt. It broke the both of you when she moved away from home for her new jobs but you never imagined her to stop answering at all, she texted less and less for 1 year’s until she suddenly didn’t reply at all.

“Mom? I have the role, I did it!! This could be my break through” you screamed into the phone. Your first big role, you were actually hired for the new ‘Wednesday’ series and you couldn’t wait. Sure, you had to move to Romania but it was definitely worth it. So, that day you packed your bag, happy to meet new people and finally show your talent.

Two weeks later you arrived in Romania, beforehand you had built up some contact with Emma Myers and Naomi over instagram. You had decided to meet up at the airport as you were all arriving around the same time, you could share a ride to the apartments and get to know each other more. It still wasn’t out who was going to play Wednesday herself and you couldn’t wait to find out.

About an hour later met both of the girls and made your way towards the apartments where you’d meet the rest of the cast. The mood between you three was pretty chill, it was noticeable that all off you were a bit nervous to meet the rest but nonetheless you were happy. “I heard that Cathrine Zeta-Jones is going to play Mortica” Emma told the two of you as you shared all the tea you’ve heard about the series.

After storing your luggage you went to meet up with the rest where Tim burton would finally reveal the actress that would play Wednesday. “Emma, Y/n, since you are the people that will be the closest to her you should meet her first” Tim said before he led you into a room where a certain person said. You would recognize that face everywhere, you froze, your breath slowed while your heartbeat quickened, while your face felt hot your arms where feeling so cold. The girl in front of you froze for a millisecond before recovering and greeting the third party in the room, Emma, who immediately noticed your weird behavior. “You alright?” She mumbled out in your direction, only earning a light shaking of your head as an answer. “Im sorry, I don’t feel good” you directed toward the director of the series, “oh, then you should probably go lay down, we can do this somewhen else. Get better” he told you before you speed walked out of the room, walking through your other crew members who were pretty confused. Emma and Tom looked after you with concern written all over their features, while Tim certainly was something special, he somehow felt connected to you and your behavior was more than weird to him. Jenna on the other hand couldn’t quite decide what/ how she felt, the only thing she knew was that she’d have to look for you after this.

“We’ll be friends forever right? No matter what, we’ll stay together?” Jenna asked you as you sat on a swing, your mothers sitting on a bench not far away talking about who knows what. “Friends forever, no matter what” you answered as she held out her pinky, intervening it with your. Both of you whispering out a “pinky promise”

The memory flooded in your head as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what to do now. The whole thing made your head and your heart hurt, so you plugged in your headphones, hoping that they’d make you stop thinking.

“I think we’d make great actresses, we’d be very believable” you told the brunette as you were coloring at the table in the living room. “Of course, we could always play the best friends” she grinned as she looked at the picture you drew, “yeah, after all we are best friends forever, right?” You said holding out your pinky, hers wrapping around yours, “pinky promise”

Memories clouded in your head that night when you fell asleep, exhausted from the tears and the overthinking. The next morning you were the first person awake, as you also were the first person asleep. You made your way into the kitchen to make yourself a coffee and sat down on the small balcony with your script as you watched the sunrise. A small ‘good morning’ came from behind you shortly before the sun was completely up causing you to turn around, in front of you Jenna.

The girl sighed when you immediately stood up and went upstairs again. She understood that you were mad at her but you would have to talk to her when you worked together. At the moment you didn’t seem to show any signs of budging.

You went upstairs into your room again where you sat on the end of your bed resting your upper body against the headrest. The script in your hand was slightly shaking as your eyes watered. You didn’t know how you should be able to work with her when you could barely talk to her.

The next time you exited your room the car to drive you to set arrived. You squeezed in the back next to Emma and Noami keeping up slight smalltalk so it wouldn’t get too awkward. It was rather obvious that there was something wrong between you two but nobody wanted to make things worse so they kept quiet.

It went like this for over two weeks, you talked to the others and tried to keep your distance from the brunette but as the filming went further it was harder and harder and it was obvious that it took a toll on you. That night there was a knock on your door and you already dreaded who was gonna come inside but invited them in nonetheless.

“Hello hun” it was Cathrine. You smiled as you greeted her back while she wandered around your room until she sat down on your bed next to you. “How can I help you?” Your voice was polite as it always was when you talked to her, she was like a mother figure to you. It was weird, honestly, she hugged you when you first met and since then there was just a connection. “I wanna talk to you about something that seemed like an obvious problem to all of us, we’ve seen how it takes a toll and you and we want it to become better” you sighed already knowing what this is about. You pulled your blanket up higher until half of your face was covered. “I don’t wanna talk about it” you mumbled into the blanket as a hand stroked your arm. “What happened between you two hun?” Another sigh followed before you decided that there was no going back.

“We used to best friends, a long time you know. We’ve always wanted to be actors, together but she made it wayyyy before I did and that has never been a problem to me. I was proud, the only thing I wanted was to stay in contact and we did for a small but until she suddenly ghosted me. No text, no call, not even an answer on my texts. She left me like I was nothing, while she was my best friend, maybe even more than that. But I was nothing to her” you had to hold back your tears, you didn’t want to cry and kept telling yourself that Jenna wasn’t worth it, but oh how she was. “That sound terrible and there are barely any excuses that could make what she did okay but it’s also hurting her. Maybe you should talk to her, listen to what she has to say for herself. You can either be friends again or you’ll at least get closure” you laid your head on her shoulder as you nodded slightly.

“Now let’s get down, we are having drinks” she pulled you downstairs without any regards to your unwillingness. “Look who I found upstairs” she called out causing the others to applaud and you to blush, the blush got even worse when your eyes met Jenna’s. “Come on, Gwendoline is making drinks” Emma said and pet the spot next to her.

It didn’t take long for everybody to be a bit tipsy while you were a bit more than tipsy, you were babbling and rambling while everybody was laughing. When your face suddenly changed the only person who noticed was your old best friend. She knew that look, and wasn’t surprised when you suddenly stood up and walked away, nobody else seemed to notice in their intoxicated mindset.

So she was quick to stand up and follow you upstairs where she found you, unsurprisingly, howling over the toilet. “Did you already throw up?” She asked as she kneeled behind you, the answer was a slight shaking of your head. “Then let’s wait a bit longer, shall we?” She said as she rubbed your back. It was unknown to the actress if you were to drunk to realize who she was or if you just needed the comfort, but she took what she could get.

About 20 minutes later you didn’t feel like throwing up anymore, so she helped you up and took you to bed, hers not yours. She wanted to make sure that you were fine and it was closer. “Why did you ghost me? I loved you so much and you just disappear. Why? Do you know how much that broke me?” You slurred when she sat you on the bed. “I’m sorry, I was overwhelmed and I was in love with you and I was scared that people here weren’t going to accept me and that you weren’t going to accept me when I told you, so I thought that if I break any contact that I’ll forget about you. But I never did, I still love you like the day I left. Every damn day I thought about that stupid smile you had when I FaceTimed you or how your eyes sparkled when we saw a dog outside, the way my heart fluttered when you texted me and when you held my hand. It was like everything was you” she guessed that you’d forget about all this in the morning. “You could have just told me. We could have been a power couple” you grinned before falling back on the bed and falling asleep.

The next morning you woke up in Jenna’s arms which made your heartbeat quicken at least until you noticed the unbearable headache and groaned. The sound caused Jenna to wake up, “headache?” She asked as she untangled herself from you to reach over you. You grabbed the water and the pills from her hand and mumbled a small thank you. “Do you remember what I said yesterday?” She asked with hope in her eyes, the way it felt to have you in her arms was just right. It was like it was made to be, like you were a puzzle that was finally done. “I do, most of it I believe at least” you mumbled as you drowned the rest of the water. “Maybe we should-“ before she could finish someone knocked on the door. “Guys you are late! We will be picked up in 10 minutes” that made you two jump from the bed and run to get ready.

The day on set was awkward, there was a lot that you two had to talk about but you couldn’t be alone for even 5 minutes. And to make it worse, today was the filming of the first kissing scene.

You laid on the ground in the middle of the woods, you had big cuts all over your body and fake blood was everywhere. Jenna was kneeling down next to you, her hands on your wounds. “You will be alright” she said in her Wednesday voice, but you shook your head. “I won’t. There is no way anyone will come in time but at least I get to spend the last minutes of my life with you” you chuckled weakly. “You are not going to die!” She said but you both were sure you would. Your eyes started to drop slightly, “stay with me” she said before her eyes roamed your face.

She suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours in a slow but passionate kiss. When she pulled away your eyes opened again as you smiled at her before they dropped shut and sirens could be heard.

After the director called cut Jenna helped you up from the ground. “That was great guys, go get cleaned up before we film the next scene” you nodded and went away to the makeup trailers but you pulled her away before you arrived. “Can we please talk about this? I can’t concentrate” you pleaded with a hand on her waist. “I don’t think there is a lot to talk about” your heart broke before she continued “I like you, you like me. So let’s do on a date. I wanna make right what I fucked up before” you smiled as you nodded before leaning in kissing her with your hands around her waist.

“Yes!” And “finally” could be heard around you causing you to break apart. The crew stood around you which made both of you blush and Jenna try to hide her head in her chest while they laughed.

This was the beginning of something great

[newtonsheffield]

The first chapter of Head on the Pillow was the perfect way to start that story off! And now I just want more. Is there any way we could get a snippet of something like when Ant gets out of the hospital and Kate is suddenly pushing photogs away from her new companion? Cos I feel like she’d bust someone’s camera lens the second they get to her close to her man.

I think Kate definitely feels protective of Anthony at first. He nearly just died for one. And sure, her therapist is probably thrilled because it’s given them a fresh new stress dream to wade through but it also means that she nearly lost the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. And that doesn’t feel great.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Anthony huffed as they waited out the front of the hospital for the car to be pulled round, “It was specifically requested. I was given this outfit.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “Well right now I don’t care what the palace wants.”

It had been such an understated announcement at first. The palace describing Anthony as her Protection Agent and Companion in their official statement about his recovery and it had spiraled from there. Just as they’d known it would. The palace’s more official statement about their relationship printed and reprinted with every photo of her that had ever been taken, Anthony in the front, trying to shield her. And now there were hundreds of people waiting for them outside. Waiting to catch their first glimpse of the first official royal couple since her parents had walked out with her between them, holding both their hands.

“You do care. We have to leave through the front door. It’s what Royals do when they leave hospital according to your team.” Anthony sighed, trying to smile and Kate squeezed his hand while she ran her fingers through his hair and under the dark shadows under his eyes.

“I care about you. If this is too much we’ll sneak out the back. I don’t care. My parents won’t either. I’ll tell them it was gusty and I wasn’t wearing underwear.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as though she’d caught his attention. “Are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Car out front, your highness.” Ronald said from his respectful distance away. “Exiting?”

Anthony nodded,taking a deep breath and gripping her hand tightly, his other arm in a sling. “Exiting.”

Th crows roared as Ronald pushed the doors open and Kate squared her shoulders waving with her free hand as the cameras flashed.

“Kate! Anthony!”

“Anthony! How’d you pull it off?”

“Kate! Any cold feet?!”

“Is it true you’re engaged?!”

“Is it true you married secretly in france last year?!”

Kept kept them moving forward towards the car and Anthony fingers gripped hers in panic as the photographers tried to bustle forward against the security.

She could see the panic in his eyes, not used to being on this side of the attention, people no longer letting their gaze pass through him and she cleared her throat.

“Boys, can you do me a favour?”

“What’s in it for us?!” A photographer called out and Kate laughed playing along.

“I’ll answer all of your questions in a press conference tomorrow. Every sordid detail. I’ll even do an interview for the television.” She could feel the anticipation in them, rising by the second, “But you need to leave Anthony alone while he recovers. I’ve put him through enough and I don’t need you boys scaring him off.”

They stopped pushing, staying in place, the flashes lessening.

“When’s this conference?”

“The palace will be in touch.”

The car door opened and Kate nudged Anthony inside before she followed him, his shoulders relaxing as he squeezed her hand again.

“That was very neatly done.”

Kate shrugged. “Well as attractive as I found you bodying Ken out of the way for me, I can’t do the same thing for you. I have to give a little to get a little.”

“You hate TV interviews.”

Kate shrugged, “I’ll pick someone good. Someone fun.”

“Thank you.” His voice was tiny, as the people flew by outside the window. “I’ll get better at this. I’ll get better and then I can support-”

“You’re perfect.” She leaned over to kiss his temple. “Just like this. I don’t want you to get better at that. That’s the last thing I want.”

“The palace might disagree.”

“I don’t care what the palace wants.”

[familyvideostevie]

october twenty-fifth

day twenty-five: steve harrington you want steve to go to the halloween party with you, but he’s being dense | friends to lovers, fluff | 1k

The diner is pretty full for an October weeknight. You had to cram into a booth that is for sure not made for five people. You sit across from Steve, both of you pressed to the window, Robin and Dustin next to you and Eddie on the other side.

The last two weren’t actually meant to be here, but they shouldn’t affect the plan.

Because this is, in fact, a plan. An ambush, really. One that you and Robin hatched and one that Steve does not realize he’s the victim of.

“We’ll take him to the diner and you’ll talk about Nancy’s party and how you’re going to ask another guy and it’ll make him jealous!” Robin had said in a rush over the phone.

“Okay, fine, but he doesn’t like me, Robin. Not like I like him.” You’d thought you kept a tight lid on your long-standing crush on Steve, but Robin, easily the smartest of all of you, figured it out no problem. She's his best friend, after all.

“Not true,” she had insisted. “I know him. And, yeah he hasn't told me about this, but I have eyes. Trust me, okay?”

So here you are.

You take a deep breath and turn in your seat to Robin. “I don’t know whether or not to ask Justin or Thomas,” you say, following the mental script you wrote. “I mean, either of them would make a good Danny.” You made sure to pick guys you know Steve isn't fond of.

“You’re going as Sandy?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t look up from his thumb war with Dustin. You feel Steve’s gaze on you, however. It'll be a miracle if he doesn't see through this ruse.

“Sure am.”

“Hot,” Eddie says. Steve elbows him. “Dude, seriously?” Steve says nothing.

“That dude, uh, what’s his name,” Robin says. She snaps her fingers. “Oh, Chris! He’s tall. He’d work.”

You stir your straw around your milkshake. “That’s true.”

She raises your eyebrows at you. You look over at Steve but he’s munching on his fries, eyes on the ketchup bottle. You raise your eyebrows back at her.

“I just don’t know any of them very well,” you say, really putting it on now. “If I’m going to take a guy to a party in a couples costume —”

“Why the fuck does any of this matter?” Dustin grumbles. Robin kicks him. “Jesus Christ, ow!”

You look at Steve again. He’s got some ketchup on the side of his mouth.

“Steve,” you say without thinking. “Hey, look at me a sec?” His eyes snap to yours. You reach across the table and swipe your thumb across the corner of his lips and then wipe it on the napkin. “You had ketchup. Got it.”

The table has gone silent. Eddie’s eyes are bouncing between the two of you like a tennis match. Oh. Was that…weird? You've done it before. Steve does it to you when you hang out all the time.

Maybe Robin has a point.

“Go with me,” Steve says suddenly.

Robin shoves Dustin out of the booth. “We have to get more soda. Both of you are coming. Get the fuck out!”

“What?” Dustin cries. “What the fuck is going on?” She hauls both him and Eddie away by their arms and winks at you.

Steve seems to take almost no notice.

“Go with me,” he says again, softer.

“Oh,” you breathe. This is what you wanted, right? “I thought you…hated Halloween.” That was his reasoning for not going in the first place when you broached the topic last week.

“Yeah, well.” He frowns. “I don’t want you to take anyone else.”

That annoys you, actually. “Is that supposed to make me want to go with you? You being territorial over me all of a sudden?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he mutters.

You see Robin, Eddie, and Dustin hovering by the soda machine pretending like they’re not listening.

“Look,” Steve says. He puts his hand palm up on the table. You slowly put yours over it. “I like you. I like you a lot and I want to take you to the party, okay? I’ll wear whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t go with someone else.”

Now that's classic Steve Harrington. Brave when it counts.

“Why didn’t you tell me till now?”

The crease between his brows deepens. “I— I don’t know. I’m not good at this anymore, okay?”

“What’s this?” God, he’s making you work for it.

He motions between you. “Liking someone. Wanting to be with them and impress them and all that shit. I’m a bad boyfriend, you know.”

It’s your turn to frown. “I find that hard to believe.” Steve is always so down on himself even when he’s one of the best people you know. A stubborn idiot, sure, but he’s kind and good and there’s a reason you like him.

He shrugs. “But if you’ll let me, I want to take you to the party. I’ll make sure you have a good time, and —”

“Okay,” you say. All he needed was a little shove. Guys are so dumb.

Steve continues like he didn’t hear you. “I’ll take you on a date anywhere you want, too — wait, really?”

You laugh. “Yeah, Steve. Really. I like you, too,” you admit. You tap his ankle with your foot.

He finally smiles. It makes him look boyish and happy. “That’s — that’s good.”

His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “Next time, just tell me you like me, okay?” you say.

He groans. “There better not be a next time. Now you know.”

You shoot Robin a thumbs up, which Steve sees. His eyes narrow. “You idiots can come back now, okay?”

They stumble back into the booth and Dustin zeroes in on your joined hands.

“Oh, gross,” he says. “Really?”

“You’re a child,” Robin says.

Eddie grins. “They’re cute, Henderson. You just miss your imaginary girlfriend —”

“She’s real, asshole —”

Steve keeps his eyes on you and smiles.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 9 (end)

1.7k | fluff Well, yes, but if a wolf runs around unattended, they’re going to call animal control (part 1)

Keegan made good on his promise that he’d clean up after himself.

With the way he loved to cuddle you as a wolf, even the biggest lint rollers wouldn’t suffice so he compensated by vacuuming your place every day. But not without giving Raider the side eye, because of course he had to help out. Some of the fluff was his too after all.

You really spoilt him, didn’t you? The K9 only watched his handler as he panted among the avalanche of chew toys you got him (his favourite was still the phone one though), and wouldn’t even clean his own dog bed with the lint roller.

Keegan took a two-week leave to take care of Raider who was anticipated to take a few months to recover before he could get back in the field. Fortunately, he was healing fast, already standing the week after and moving about.

Keegan decided to crash at your place meanwhile. ‘It’s closer to the vet hospital,’ he reasoned, but he knew you knew it was more than that. You said you didn’t mind as long as he kept the floof in check.

It felt natural to be around you like this. Driving you to and from work, cooking dinner with you, watching the TV after. It was hard to believe he lived so long without this, believing he was perfectly happy too.

And to think this all started with his curse.

His wolf had never been happier too, being in your space. Head empty, no thoughts, just his peanut as he drifted off to sleep.

You said it was strange the first few times he spooned you in bed as a wolf and suddenly shifted back when he lost his consciousness to sleep. The floof disappeared in a split second, replaced by his heavy arm around your waist which startled you.

Even that he was hesitant at first, he was pleasantly surprised with how welcoming you were to his peculiarity. Like when he approached you with hot cheeks a few days into staying at yours.

“Peanut,” he said in a small voice, eyes not meeting yours. “Would it be okay, if maybe, you can play tug of war with me?”

Your brow rose.

“I mean, it’s totally fine if not! It’s just I need exercise and Raider can’t play yet,” he rambled.

“Of course! We can play fetch too if you want.”

His eyes brightened, thinking of that time when his first instinct was to run after the toy you threw for Raider. “Oh, I’ve never tried that before, but that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“We can have a run at the park too, so we don’t have to go on a hike. If you’ve got an owner, no one’s going to call animal control on you.”

He tilted his head. “I am not going to be leashed.”

“But can you imagine how big of a tranquiliser dart they’re going to use on your wolf otherwise?” You stifled a laugh. “Probably as big as my forearm.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. You knew he wasn’t a fan on needles. “We’ll go hiking when Raider’s better.”

Your laugh always made him happy, like when he pulled the rope toy too hard on purpose to wrestle you on the floor. You never won against the giant wolf no matter how much you tried, and he was glad of it because he loved nuzzling you from above, your giggles filling the room.

He sent his mum pictures of the both of you, some of your cooking too, always thrilled at every opportunity to say you were his. He was to visit her with you when Raider got better, but meanwhile video calls would have to do.

“Aw, look at the both of you! Aren’t you adorable, sweetie?” his mum cooed, the phone a little too close to her face.

“She’s a cheek pincher,” Keegan said. “Here, I’ll do it on her behalf.” He reached over to pinch you lightly.

Mrs. Russ laughed. “I hope you’re feeding him well. He eats like he’s still growing, but can barely cook. Make sure he does the dishes at least!”

You let out a chuckle.

“She does! She makes the best PB sandwiches.” It was true - they were better than his and he didn’t understand why. “When we visit, she’ll make you some.”

His mum was not a werewolf nor was she a fan of PB, but he firmly believed the love for it would transcend all.

Before Ghosts’ next mission, he took you out to meet his teammates for dinner. You were a little bashful from all the attention you got when they tried to get to know you. Especially from Ajax and Kick, who were mostly baffled by how you could spare “the creepy, frowning guy” a second glance.

“I can get you an angel shot,” Ajax said.

“Blink three times if you need help,” Kick whispered.

Regardless the teasing, Keegan grinned at the fact he got to call you his peanut.

However, the closer it was to the 7th full moon, Keegan grew restless, but not because of his urges. With how well and fast you fit into his life, he couldn’t even remember what it was like without you. He was terrified he bond wasn’t going to work and he’d lose everything again.

He didn’t doubt your feelings, even that he had to admit he felt clingy sometimes, wanting you to tell him how much you felt towards him. He was glad you never complained, but was kind regarding his needs, taking care of him.

The night of the full moon, he took you out on a date, somewhere special with a live cello player. At your door, he presented a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He made sure it was bigger than the one Blake sent and that the card didn’t fall off (not like you needed it since he brought it over personally). A little petty, he had to admit, but he had to show you he was cooler than your uni friend and could survive far more than a few punches.

You dressed up, your hair done, smelling wonderful and he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His peanut. Fuck, he still couldn’t believe you were his. Under the clothed table, he squeezed your knee.

The hours rolled past as you enjoyed the haunting performance, his arm along the back of your seat while your hand rested on his thigh. He started bouncing his leg, something he almost never did.

“It’s going to work.” You squeezed his thigh.

“I’m not worried,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes fixated on the cello player.

“You won’t be a wolf. We’ll visit your mum and have her cooking, and you’ll show me your band poster collection, okay?”

He gave you a crooked smile, hand gripping yours.

Outside, the moon beamed bright against the cloudless sky. Fresh out of the shower, you sat in bed next to him, his chest bare, soft from the hot water, lower half under the comforter. The bedside lamp shed enough light to illuminate the way your lips pulled into a thin line. His arms wrapped around you and you let out a shaky breath against him.

“You can tell me to stop any time, and… Just in case.” He reached for his blade on the nightstand, handing it to you. “I love you, okay?”

You nodded and he peeled off the comforter that covered him before shifting. You bared your neck to his wolf, brows furrowed as your eyes closed.

He whimpered, nuzzling your neck. I love you, peanut.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you mumbled.

He puffed out steady breath before positioning his fangs on your neck, feeling you shudder under him. You gripped his mane, yelping when he sank into you. Your blood was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and with your addicting scent filling him, it was too easy to stay put, but he shifted back immediately.

“You did good, peanut.” He kissed the corner of your eyes where tears had pricked. “Now we wait.”

In the dead of night, he jerked awake, breathing heavily. With the movement, you woke too.

“You okay?” You rubbed his chest, fingers ever comforting through the fuzz.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think. Did you have a dream?”

“We were in the woods, at full moon.”

He held his breath as his heart raced.

“Your wolf and I were walking to the cabin in the distance. I was barefoot-“

“In a white dress,” he said under his breath.

You nodded, beaming.

“It worked.” He chuckled in disbelief, gripping your shoulders. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Your arms wrapped around him. “We’re mates now, Keegan. For life.”

Months later, Raider fully recovered and was back in the field with his handler. You and Keegan got a new place between your old places, somewhere without carpeted floors because he’d grown sick of the vacuuming. Life slipped into a rhythm.

He took you to his home and greeted his mum with a kiss on the cheek. You said her lasagna was as great as he always hyped it up to be. Much to his chagrin, she was swift, and vey excited, to show you his childhood photos. He groaned. The memory of him rocking a bowl cut for the entirety of primary school was humiliating, but with a giggle, you reassured he looked cute with his signature icy stare. He didn’t believe you.

Keegan carried your luggage up the stairs with Raider padding behind, nails clicking against floor. His mum never changed a thing in his bedroom since he left, his emo band posters still almost lined the entirety of the walls. He stared at the one behind the door and contemplated if you’d like him in one of those haircuts. There would be more to pat after all (and it surely wouldn’t be as hideous as a damn bowl cut).

At bedtime, in his cramped bed, you huddled facing each other.

“I guess we should have stayed at a hotel after all.”

He shrugged. “You know, if we were both wolves, we would fit perfectly fine here.”

You smiled, tracing your neck where his bite marks had faded. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.”

Thank you so much everyone for reading my silly doggo story! I had mad fun writing this and I'm glad you stuck around until the end :D take care x

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime

[clangenrising]

Month 6 - Greenleaf

Nightfrost led the way over the gentle, sloping hills with Pantherhaze and Russetfrond behind her. The sun had already started to set and her hope was that now that the heat and light had begun to fade, the mice and voles near the river would be eager to come out where they could be caught. The patrol had been walking quietly, its members occupied with their exertion, but as the river and the Cornerstones beyond it started to come into view, Russetfrond spoke. 

“So, Nightfrost… I’m curious to hear your thoughts on Goldenstar’s new… changes.” 

Nightfrost glanced over at him and tried to get a read on his intention. She knew that Russetfrond hadn’t been very happy when Goldenstar had been named his mother’s deputy. Goldenstar had confessed in private that she was worried he hated her. On his face, Nightfrost found a guarded interest, an expression that said ‘I want to know what you think before I tell you how I feel.’ She knew she would have to be careful in how she responded. 

“I think the changes are designed to make people feel more welcome,” she said, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see if they hit the mark.” 

Russetfrond hummed disappointedly. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“What do you think about the changes?” Nightfrost asked, tilting her head. 

“I think it's bold of Goldenstar to do something so drastic this early into her leadership,” he responded without hesitation. “Less than six moons and she’s already opening our borders to any cat who pleases to pass through and doing away with traditions that have served us well for hundreds of years. I don’t know where she gets off.” 

“That’s a bit harsh,” Nightfrost huffed, “She isn’t doing this for kicks, she clearly thinks this is the right thing to do.” 

“‘Clearly,’” Russetfrond repeated. “So she hasn’t talked about it with you.” 

Nightfrost kicked herself. “No, not exactly.” Russetfrond chuffed, ears twitching as he looked away over the grassland. Nightfrost continued, “But she doesn’t need to consult me for every decision. She was Sunstar’s deputy for a while, she knows what she’s doing by now.” The voice in her head added, I hope.

“Still,” Pantherhaze spoke up, “Aren’t you a little worried? I mean… she didn’t mention StarClan at all in the last naming ceremony.” He shrugged a bit, looking guilty. “I don’t know, I don’t like the idea that she’s already forgotten the cats who gave her her lives.” 

“She hasn’t forgotten StarClan,” Nightfrost said firmly. “She went to seek their guidance before her announcement at the Gathering, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true…” Pantherhaze admitted quietly. At that moment, they arrived at the river and Russetfrond stopped near the bank to turn back towards Nightfrost, his eyes challenging her subtly. 

“She says that, but that doesn’t mean she listened to them,” he said. “She’s too busy listening to Scorch.” He let the name fall out of his mouth like a piece of sour prey, grimacing. “Surely you’ve noticed they’ve been spending more and more time together, when she isn’t toying with Yarrowshade, that is.” 

Nightfrost’s jaw was suddenly tight. “You make it sound like Scorch is seducing him with her roguish wiles,” she scoffed. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was,” Russetfrond shrugged in reply. “She’s clearly an expert liar and manipulator. It makes you wonder what she really wants from Goldenstar.” Nightfrost’s stomach churned uneasily. She wanted to protest but knew she didn’t have a very good argument. Just because she didn’t want something to be true didn’t mean it wasn’t. 

Shifting his weight nervously, Pantherhaze interjected, “I wouldn’t say that. We don’t have proof she’s manipulating anybody.” 

“When you think there’s a fox around, you don't wait for it to bite your head off before you start being cautious,” Russetfrond stated flatly. Pantherhaze looked down, throat laboring quietly, ears pressed back. 

Nightfrost took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I understand why you’re uneasy,” she said, “but we can’t jump to worst case scenarios. That kind of fear mongering about outsiders is the exact behavior Goldenstar is trying to curtail.” 

“Then what do you suggest we do, Nightfrost?” growled Russetfrond. 

She didn’t know. “I’ll talk to her,” she said. “For now, we’ll focus on hunting and minding our own business.” 

“This is our business,” Russetfrond shook his head. “Everything Goldenstar changes affects us all.” He then turned and padded off along the river bank, for the moment agreeing to suspend the conversation. Pantherhaze winced up at her and stepped closer, gaze gentle. 

“He just wants to help,” the little tom whispered. “I know he sounds harsh, but he just cares very deeply about this Clan. Just like his mother did.” He glanced over his shoulder after his friend, tail swishing. 

“I know,” Nightfrost responded softly. “I’ll make sure his concerns are heard. Thank you for bringing them up.” 

Pantherhaze smiled at her, looking as if a huge weight had just lifted off of his shoulders. “Thank you, Nightfrost.” Butting his head against her shoulder, he turned and slunk after Russetfrond, leaving the deputy alone with her thoughts for the moment. She sighed again and let her authoritative posture droop for a moment.

She wished that Goldenstar had come to her already, that she could confidently back up her leader because they were of one mind and mission. She wished she could stop being stupid and jealous for a minute so she could objectively assess the situation. It was hard to know if Scorchplume was a threat to her Clan when she was too busy worrying if she was a threat to her relationship with Yarrowshade, whatever that was. Stars, that was its own nest of snakes. 

Most of all, Nightfrost wished life were simple. Oh well, she thought, if wishes were fishes the Clan would never go hungry. She needed to focus on her primary duty, making sure that her Clanmates were taken care of. Shaking her fur to dispel the cloud of insects that had begun to land on her pelt, she opened her mouth to scent for prey and followed after her Clanmates.

[cybrsan]

Vignette: Duty — P.SH, K.HJ

STORY SUMMARY: For as long as he can remember, Seonghwa has dedicated himself to a single goal: making his father proud. To do so, he needs to win the Nightingale commendation, become the best of the best. But when he falls a step behind Hongjoong, he has to reconsider what it is he truly wants.

PAIRING: N/A, Seonghwa POV ft. Hongjoong (Future OT8 x Reader in main fic)

RATING/GENRE: PG-13 ; dystopian AU, steampunk AU

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Alcohol use (in a very unhealthy sort of way), self-deprecating thoughts and behavior, blood/injury, violence, strained father-son relationship, minor character death

A/N: This is the first out of six prologue stories that will be posted prior to the release of mine and Orion's main fic, Through The Darkness. Stay tuned for more <3

LINKS: ATEEZ Masterlist. Cross-posted on AO3. Story masterlist and glossary will be added once posted.

BANNER CREDIT: @kwanisms

General Elowen Nightingale makes for an imposing figure, dressed head to toe in military regalia. Her uniform is a stark white, not a crease to be seen, and decorated with numerous patches and medals that are a testament to her years of service and hundreds of battles won. Her honey-colored hair, streaked with silver, is pulled back into a perfect bun, and her piercing, grey eyes burn with an intensity that can make even the most hardened soldiers avert their gaze.

As she scrutinizes the crowd of cadets from behind her podium, Seonghwa finds himself having to make a conscious effort to maintain his position and not falter. His fingers itch to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles of his own—far less decorated—uniform, his heart pounding in his chest. He has been in the Vanguard Program for a few years now and has known her since he was a child, but he’s still not used to being in her presence.

Hongjoong snickers from his place beside him, whispering, “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa hisses through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes trained forward. “The last thing I need is to get in trouble for talking out of turn.”

“You have no reason to be nervous, Hwa, seriously. You’re one of the best in the class.”

“Says the General’s favorite.”

“Well, yes.” Seonghwa doesn’t have to look at Hongjoong to know there’s a smug grin on his face. “But that doesn’t make what I just said any less true. You have as good a chance as any to get the Nightingale Commendation.”

The Nightingale Commendation is a tradition of 30 years standing, named after the General’s family who established the program. It is the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a young, eager cadet, marking them as the one to watch (or the one to beat, in the eyes of their peers). It’s a ticket to swift promotions and the most coveted assignments. Naturally, everyone wants it.

Seonghwa can hardly even imagine being considered for such an award. He wants it, of course he does; after all, his name means “to be a star,” so being the rising star of the Vanguard Program would suit him. Or so his father says. But the idea of actually standing at the general’s side, his first medal pinned to his jacket… it’s almost too overwhelming to bear.

Though he won’t openly admit it due to the risk of relentless teasing, Seonghwa does feel put at ease by Hongjoong’s words. He glances toward him, momentarily forgetting the fear of being reprimanded. Hongjoong’s gaze is still cast forward, though he seems completely unfazed by the general or her commanding presence. He’s always been confident in a way that Seonghwa envies.

Suddenly turning his head, Hongjoong’s eyes meet his. In the harsh light of the auditorium, they seem a shade or two lighter than their usual brown. He smiles, though it isn’t the teasing grin Seonghwa was expecting. Instead, it’s soft, reassuring.

“Let’s promise each other that no matter who wins, we’ll celebrate together. Deal?”

Heat rushes to Seonghwa’s face against his better judgment. He’s so used to their competitive banter that this show of such genuine camaraderie has taken him aback. Still, he agrees without hesitation. “Deal.”

With that, the knot of anxiety in his chest unravels near completely. Having someone else be so confident in his abilities, someone who is so outstanding in their own right, is deeply comforting. Before either of them can say more, General Nightingale’s voice booms over the speakers.

“Attention!” she demands, and Seonghwa would swear she’s looking directly at him. “The time has come to announce this year’s recipient of the Nightingale Commendation. As you all know, this award is not given lightly. The cadet who is bestowed the honor will have earned it through their hard work, unwavering courage, and dedication to the cause.”

Sweat prickles at Seonghwa’s temple, a lone drop dripping down the side of his face and disappearing underneath the neckline of his shirt. This is it.

“Over the past few years, I have seen growth in all 46 of you; the Vanguard class of 1018 has been one of the most promising in our history. And while many of you have exhibited extraordinary promise, there is one cadet who has consistently exceeded all expectations.”

She pauses for a long moment, her eyes sweeping over the crowd. It’s as if she wants to savor the anticipation and make everyone squirm for as long as she can. Seonghwa can feel his heartbeat picking up again, and he even sees Hongjoong begin to fidget out of the corner of his eye.

Her gaze lands on Seonghwa and, for just a moment, he lets himself believe. But she passes over him without hesitation and immediately, he knows. He closes his eyes and prepares himself for what she is about to say.

“Congratulations, Cadet Kim Hongjoong. Please come up to the stage and accept your award.”

Seonghwa’s eyes remain closed as applause erupts around him. Deep down, he’d always known this moment would come, always known it would be Hongjoong and not him. But disappointment is not an easy pill to swallow.

“Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong whispers his name, and Seonghwa comes back to reality, opening his eyes to meet his expectant gaze.

“Congrats, Joong.” And he means it. He can get over his own disappointment in order to celebrate his friend.

He brings his hands together, mustering up a smile as he watches Hongjoong take the stage. General Nightingale hands Hongjoong the framed commendation before shaking his hand firmly. She then pins the matching medal onto his lapel—his first medal—and allows the crowd to cheer for a few moments longer.

“Cadet Kim,” she begins. “You have demonstrated exceptional skills throughout your time in the program. You are an example to all cadets of what an elite member of the Vanguard should be. I am confident you will uphold the Nightingale tradition of excellence in service.”

Hongjoong’s face, lit up with pride, is something Seonghwa will fondly remember for a long time.

“You’re welcome to give a speech,” General Nightingale says, stepping back as she gestures to the podium.

“I want to share this honor with all of you.” Hongjoong’s voice is strong and unwavering as he addresses the entire class. “We are all the future of the Sector. We are in this together and I am honored to fight at your side.”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze landing on Seonghwa once again. “There’s someone in particular I want to acknowledge.”

The auditorium falls silent as everyone follows his line of sight. Seonghwa feels himself flush with embarrassment, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, his voice much softer now, as if he were speaking only to him. “You have been both my fiercest rival and my closest friend. Always there to push me beyond what I thought was possible, or to pick me up when I fall. This award,” he holds the commendation up in the air for emphasis, “Would not have been achievable without you. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Seonghwa feels like he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head.

“And if you or anyone else brings up the fact I got so emotional, I’ll take you to the mat.”

Just like that, the tension is broken. Laughter and cheers erupt as the crowd surges to life. The noise is enough to break Seonghwa from the trance Hongjoong’s words had him under and he can’t help but laugh as well.

Hongjoong takes a final bow and steps down from the stage, receiving some congratulatory pats on the back as he walks back down the aisle. Seonghwa notices the general watching Hongjoong closely, her gaze alight with something he can’t quite decipher. A mixture of approval and curiosity, perhaps? Yet he barely has time to question it before Hongjoong reaches him and claps him on the shoulder.

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?” he says, his grin widening as he scans Seonghwa’s flustered expression.

“Expecting what?” Seonghwa’s proud he doesn’t stutter. “That you have a sentimental side or that you would actually admit it in public?”

Hongjoong chuckles. “Hey, you’re the one that complains I don’t give you enough affection.”

“Still, I never would have dreamed of you publicly declaring your love for me,” Seonghwa teases. This banter is good—it’s what he’s used to. His heart finally settles in his chest.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, the act belied by the softness that lingers in his expression. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’ll try not to.” Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa allows some of his sincerity to shine through. “All jokes aside… Thank you, Joong. Your words really do mean a lot. And I hope you know that they’re returned tenfold.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Before either of them can say more, General Nightingale reclaims her place at the podium. “Cadets,” she begins, her voice cutting through the clamor of the crowd. The room quiets almost instantly, and everyone returns their gaze to her. “As you all know, this ceremony isn’t just about the Nightingale Commendation. It’s about all of you and how much you have achieved over these past few years. Some of you will move on to other assignments, and some will have to report for further training, but all of you are part of what makes our Sector so great.

Hongjoong, of course, will become a member of the Vanguard Elite squad. Like all the past commendation recipients, he will be awarded Flight status, which gives him access to the most advanced machinery, classified assignments, and even travel outside of the Sector. Considering his outstanding performance throughout his time here, there is no doubt that he'll excel in his duties."

There is a momentary pause as she locks eyes with Hongjoong, and a curt nod of approval is exchanged before she turns back to the crowd.

“Alongside him, the top 5% of the class will also become part of the elite squad. We have evaluated the performance of these three cadets on various fronts: combat skills, strategic planning, adaptability, teamwork, and overall growth. The names I am about to announce are the individuals who have consistently excelled across these parameters. When I call your name, please join me on stage.”

If Seonghwa had thought the auditorium was silent before, it was nothing compared to the hush that fell over the room now. For a moment, he wonders if it’s possible Hongjoong might be able to hear his heart beating from his spot at his side. The general calls the first name. Not him. Second name. Also not him.

Then, finally, “Cadet Park Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa’s knees almost give out from underneath him. He wasn’t expecting this. He had been so focused on receiving the Nightingale commendation that he failed to consider the possibility of being in the top 5%—of still being part of the Vanguard’s most sought-after squad. In his shock, his gaze instinctively drifts to Hongjoong, who smiles and mouths, “I told you so.”

Walking on autopilot, he joins his new squad mates on stage. Surely, this must be enough to please his father. He may not be the best, but he is still among the elite; that has to count for something. Turning to General Nightingale, he bows slightly before shaking her hand.

“Congratulations, Cadet Park.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I present to you,” her voice rings powerfully through the auditorium once again, “the top 5% of the class, our Vanguard Elites!”

The rest of the class cheers and stomps their feet, the stage shaking from the force of it all.

“Moving forward, the remaining cadets will be assigned based on their individual strengths and overall rankings.”

She begins listing the remaining names, but Seonghwa is too lost in thought to hear them. He's on stage, a member of the Vanguard Elites, standing shoulder to shoulder with some of the academy's most talented cadets. He might still be a step behind Hongjoong, but surely that doesn’t matter. They’re still a part of the same squad, the same team.

“Our ceremony has come to an end. Congratulations to each and every graduate; you have all worked hard and should be proud of your achievements. To those who did not graduate—this should serve as motivation for you to work even harder in the future. Is that clear?” The crowd responds with a short cheer of understanding. “As always, we commit our hearts, bodies, and minds to service—”

“For the glory of the Sector!” The entire class finishes the alma mater in unison.

Seonghwa is flush with pride, standing straighter and more confidently than he ever has. This is it. This is what he has been working for. As the crowd erupts into a final round of applause, he takes in the sight before him: the sea of uniforms, the smiling faces, people hugging and congratulating one another. Everyone disperses, wandering off in different directions, presumably to go celebrate.

But Seonghwa only has eyes for one person.

Hongjoong approaches him, still beaming, and salutes him. “I’m excited to work with you, soldier.”

Seonghwa returns the salute. “You’re not sick of me yet?”

“Well…” Hongjoong draws out the word, letting it linger in the air for a moment before laughing. “No, not yet. We’ll see if that changes, though.”

Seonghwa wraps his arm around Hongjoong’s shoulder, pulling the shorter man firmly against his side as they continue to walk. “Oh, shut up. You confessed your love to me, remember?”

Hongjoong curls his lip. “Keep bringing that up, I dare you.”

“Cadet Kim.”

Seonghwa almost jumps out of his skin when the general speaks up from behind them. Hongjoong flinches slightly as well but has a much smoother recovery; Seonghwa never would have even noticed if he didn’t have his arm around him.

Hongjoong separates from Seonghwa and turns around, standing at attention. “Yes, General?”

“At ease. I need you to come with me to my office. There’s much we need to discuss concerning the commendation and the benefits you have been awarded.”

“Oh,” a glimmer of surprise crosses his face. “Of course. Hwa, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Seonghwa just nods, watching as the two walk away. A pit settles in his stomach but he tries to ignore it. He decides to head back to their shared quarters on his own, his footsteps bouncing off of the polished stone floor. He begins the careful ritual of removing his dress uniform, his hands shaking slightly as he undoes each button, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

While shrugging into a more comfortable shirt, Seonghwa glances at his nightstand and is surprised to find his aurvox lit, indicating he has a message waiting for him. He presses play and instantly tenses as his father’s voice comes over the speakers.

“Seonghwa. I watched the ceremony. Call me immediately.”

A wave of apprehension rolls down Seonghwa’s spine. In the message, his father’s voice sounds stern, almost frigid. It’s the voice he always uses when he is about to scold him, but surely that can’t be right. He got on stage and his abilities were acknowledged by General Nightingale herself. He made it into the Vanguard Elites. It’s not the commendation, but it’s still something.

He takes a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking as he returns the call. The aurvox rings once, twice, before his father answers.

“Seonghwa.”

“Father. I—”

“You didn’t win the Nightingale commendation.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders fall. Any excitement he may have been feeling, any pride, is instantly extinguished by those six words. “No. I didn’t.”

“You need to try harder. Your win this year was supposed to make up for your brother losing the commendation to that rusted piece of scrap from the Outer Sector.”

“I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be sorry—be better.” Seonghwa isn’t even given the time to respond as his father continues, “We are going to host a celebratory dinner for Hongjoong. His mother will be there so I expect you to be on your best behavior. After all, if you can’t beat him, at least make sure to use him. He might be able to aid you in the future, and Sunhee has plenty of connections.”

Seonghwa knows his father wants him to agree, but he can’t bring himself to say those words out loud. Use Hongjoong? He’s his friend. He won’t do it. He can’t.

“Seonghwa?” His father’s voice sharpens and Seonghwa flinches despite being nowhere in his vicinity.

“Yes, sir. Of course.” His words sound strained, but his father doesn’t seem to notice.

“Good. I will see you tonight. Dress well.”

His father hangs up without even saying goodbye, signaling that the conversation is over. Seonghwa places his aurvox back on his nightstand and immediately flops face down on his bed, groaning into one of his pillows.

He can hear the distant sounds of the other cadets, their conversations and laughter drifting in through the thin walls of his room. But they seem a world away to him now. He wonders if he's supposed to be feeling elated, liberated from the years of hard work and all-nighters that led to this moment. Instead, he feels numb.

He’s not sure how much time passes before the door swings open and Hongjoong walks in, a grin on his face. “Hwa! Both the general and I got the invite to your father’s dinner party tonight. You won’t believe what she told me—” He stops short when he notices Seonghwa’s current state. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. How was your meeting?” Seonghwa manages to muster up a weak smile, hoping it’s convincing enough. By the look on Hongjoong’s face, it’s not, but he doesn’t press for more information.

“It was good,” Hongjoong answers after a moment, his smile slowly returning as he begins to fill Seonghwa in on the meeting. He babbles on and on about all the different benefits he will be able to take advantage of, unaware of the bitter taste filling Seonghwa’s mouth.

Seonghwa listens, nodding at the right moments, but he finds it hard to fully focus. He should be focused on his friend, celebrating with him. Instead, all he can think of are his father’s words. “Use him.”

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong’s voice breaks through Seonghwa’s daze. “What’s going on?”

Seonghwa’s gaze snaps back to him, seeing the concern written all over his face. He attempts a smile again but it feels more like a grimace. “I’m okay, really. Just… there’s a lot on my mind.”

Hongjoong moves closer, shrugging off his overcoat and draping it over a desk chair before taking a seat next to Seonghwa on the bed. Their knees brush and Seonghwa jolts, pulling his leg away slowly enough for it not to be noticeable. As much as he wants the comfort he knows Hongjoong can provide, he can’t allow himself to indulge. Not now.

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” Hongjoong says, voice gentle. “Yeah, we compete, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be there for each other. We’re in this together.”

“I know, Joong,” Seonghwa replies, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s complicated, that’s all.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a moment as if searching for the right words to say. “My mom always used to say that sometimes it’s the most complicated things that help us grow. They force us to confront parts of ourselves we aren’t comfortable with.”

Seonghwa feels a lump forming in his throat, his eyes shining with unshed tears. How can he explain that the uncomfortable thing he’s confronting is not a singular part of himself, but who he is at his core? That it takes into question his very values of duty, family, and loyalty? He can’t.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmurs, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Then, getting up, he heads over to the wardrobe in the corner of their room, pulling a bottle of some top shelf liquor out from behind a loose panel. They aren’t usually allowed to keep alcohol on site, but that hasn’t stopped most cadets. “How about a drink? We should celebrate.”

Uncorking the bottle, he pours two generous servings into crystal glasses and offers one to Hongjoong. Hongjoong hesitates, his gaze switching from the glass to Seonghwa and back again, but then he reaches out and takes the drink.

“To us?” Hongjoong raises his glass.

“To us,” Seonghwa echoes. He downs his drink in one go, the burn of it helping distract from his thoughts. The alcohol slides down easily, too easily, and he pours himself another glass.

“Careful,” Hongjoong warns. “Don’t forget we have that dinner later.”

“I remember,” he retorts, a little sharper than he meant to. It was only for a split second, his tone barely changed, but it’s enough for Hongjoong to pick up on it. He picks up on everything. Hurt flashes across his features and Seonghwa immediately backtracks, adding, “Maybe I just need a little liquid courage.”

“Liquid courage, huh?” Hongjoong sighs before downing his glass as well. “Just don’t get too drunk or you’ll leave me to face your father all alone.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

The opulence of the dinner party is overwhelming. Seonghwa expected it, of course, but still. Instead of being held in the Nexus Chambers like most work-related events, his father decided to host it in their manor which has been adorned with gold and crystal as far as the eye can see. Velvet chairs and couches have been set up to form intimate conversation circles while the occasional serving automaton weaves its way through guests to offer champagne and hors d’oeuvres. There’s even an auto-orchestra in the grand hall despite Seonghwa’s continuous complaints that their music is nothing compared to that of the street performers he heard during his mandatory field trip to the Outer Sector a few years ago.

He finds himself following from a distance as his father leads Hongjoong around the room, introducing him as the newest addition in the running for the title of the Symposium’s best and brightest. Everything he says is perfectly polished, enough to praise Hongjoong while simultaneously reminding everyone of his own affluence. Seonghwa can see Hongjoong’s discomfort, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the polite, robotic nodding as he is passed from conversation to conversation. As a friend, he should intervene. As a jealous son, however…

He refills his glass.

At one point, Hongjoong walks over to him, a drink in each hand. He seems to hesitate for a moment before extending one to Seonghwa. “I just bumped into Wooyoung and his friend, Yeosang," he says, his mouth quirking up at the corners.

"You did?"

"They were with some new girl Woo has taken under his wing. I didn't catch her name, but apparently, she's the sister of the new Watch Master."

"Oh, them," Seonghwa sighs. "Watch Master Luxe, right? My dad won't stop berating my brother because of that whole situation."

Hongjoong takes a sip of his drink before answering. "Yeah, I know he still hasn't gotten over Junghwa losing the commendation to him."

"Let's not talk about it. But is that what you have in store? Watch Master Kim?"

"Shut up, Park."

That’s the only time Seonghwa gets to talk to Hongjoong before his father comes back into the picture, whisking him away. After that, Seonghwa’s descent into total, blackout levels of intoxication is swift, the drinking he did earlier in the night definitely not helping. His mind is fuzzy around the edges, making it hard to process what he’s doing or saying. He becomes a blur of motion, stumbling from one group of attendees to another, slurring his words and laughing at jokes that aren’t even funny.

The dinner bell rings and with unsteady legs, Seonghwa makes his way into the dining room. The table is long enough to fit 50 people on each side and is covered with more food than anybody could possibly eat. Guests begin to settle into their seats and he goes to join them, only to find that Hongjoong has taken his usual spot to the right of his father.

For a moment, Seonghwa stands frozen, the room spinning around him. That spot is typically the seat of honor, the seat reserved for whomever the patriarch of the family deems most worthy. First it belonged to his brother, and then it belonged to him. Now, it seems, it belongs to Hongjoong.

“Oh, Hwa,” Hongjoong begins to stand, sensing his distress. “Is this your seat? I’m sorry, Speaker Park said—”

“Hongjoong, please, I told you to call me Soohyuk,” Seonghwa’s father interrupts. “And you’re the guest of honor tonight, so you should sit at my right hand next to General Nightingale. Seonghwa can sit next to his older brother at my left. That’s alright with you, isn’t it Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa’s vision blurs momentarily as heat floods to his face. He tries to form words, but can’t seem to make a sound. It is as if his breath is trapped in his throat. The longer the silence stretches on, the harsher his father’s glare becomes.

“Seonghwa,” he repeats. It isn’t a request—it’s a command.

“Of course,” Seonghwa finally manages. “It’s fine.”

He slumps into the seat next to Junghwa, who claps him on the shoulder and whispers, “Guess neither of us are the favorite son anymore, huh?”

“Not funny, hyung.”

Junghwa scoffs, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I’m not trying to be funny. This is what happens—displease father enough times and you are easily replaced. Get used to it. I have.”

Seonghwa doesn’t reply, instead reaching for the glass of wine that is being served with dinner. His hand shakes a little as he does so, enough for his brother to notice. Junghwa raises an eyebrow at him but mercifully stays silent.

After piling some food onto his plate, Seonghwa can do little more than pick at it, the appeal completely lost on him. His tongue feels numb in his mouth and all he can taste is the bitterness of the wine. He watches his father converse excitedly with Hongjoong, his eyes shining in a way they never do when looking at him.

“Seonghwa, how have you been, dear?”

Seonghwa startles, so lost in his own thoughts that he almost forgot he would be expected to entertain guests. He looks up to see Hongjoong’s mother, Speaker Kim Sunhee, smiling at him from across the table. Even if the dinner wasn’t being held in honor of her son, she is still apart of the same council as his father and would have been in attendance anyway, yet he failed to consider she might try to engage him in conversation. She’s a pleasant woman, and at any other time, he would have been happy to talk to her, but tonight, he can barely hold himself together.

“I… I’ve been well, thank you.” He hopes he isn’t slurring his words too much. “And you, Speaker Kim?”

“Well, I’m thrilled! After all, my son has received such a prestigious award—I couldn’t be more proud.”

Seonghwa nods, plastering a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure you are. No one deserves it more than him.”

“Thank you for saying that. You’re very kind.” Her voice is soft with the kind of appreciation only a mother can have. Seonghwa can’t help but feel a twinge of envy; would his own mother have been as proud? “But I have to say, you’re a big reason my son is where he is today. You’ve been such a good friend to him, Seonghwa. He speaks very highly of you.”

The praise sneaks past his defenses, warming him from the inside out. For what may be the first time that night, he smiles genuinely. “I’m really happy to hear that. Hongjoong… he means a lot to me.”

His gaze involuntarily drifts to where Hongjoong is seated, his attention still occupied by Soohyuk. The light casts a warm glow on his profile, softening his features. For a moment, Seonghwa is captivated by the sight before the weight of his father’s order pulls him back to reality, and the guilt returns in full force.

“I can tell,” Sunhee says.

Before he can reply, his father stands, tapping his fork on his glass. “Everyone, can I have your attention please?” Once he’s sure that all eyes are on him, he continues, “As you all know, we are here tonight to celebrate the recipient of the Nightingale Commendation, Kim Hongjoong. I decided to host as he is a cherished friend of my son, Seonghwa.”

His father makes eye contact with him and smiles—that sick, twisted, vindictive smile. Seonghwa’s stomach sinks with dread.

“Before we continue, I feel it is only appropriate that he make a toast to celebrate his future squad mate’s accomplishment.”

The room falls silent, the air heavy with expectation. Seonghwa should have expected this, why didn’t he expect this?

“No pressure,” Junghwa says, a twisted sense of amusement in his voice.

Seonghwa glares at him before rising to his feet, swaying in place. He steels himself by gripping the edge of the table. His heart is pounding in his ears, his skin prickles with sweat, and the room seems to be closing in around him. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady both his hands and his voice as he raises his near-empty glass.

“To Hongjoong,” he begins. “To a friendship… a friendship that has meant so much to us both. And to… to a future that…”

His voice trails off, his words failing him. How is he supposed to toast to a friend he might betray, to a future that is so uncertain? He can’t, he can’t do this. His fingers tighten around the stem of his glass and suddenly, it cracks, shards digging into his hand.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong gasps, shooting up from his seat. It almost seems as if he’s about to rush to his side, but Soohyuk stops him in his tracks. Hongjoong’s eyes narrow, but he obeys.

“Stay where you are, Hongjoong. Everyone, please excuse my son’s poor manners; it appears he has had too much to drink.” His father addresses the crowd rather than him. “Seonghwa, apologize and then go get yourself tended to.”

Seonghwa swallows hard, the taste of bile stinging the back of his throat. He barely notices the blood dripping down his fingers, staining the tablecloth red and pooling around shards of glass.

“I… I’m… I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I’m so very sorry.”

He bows his head before quickly turning and bolting out of the room, his vision blurring with tears. He barely makes it to the grand staircase before tripping over his own feet. His knees hit the ground with an audible thud, and he grabs the banister to keep from going down completely. He’s too far gone, too drunk and too devastated to get back up. His grip slackens and he lets himself slide down onto the bottom step, ignoring the bloody handprint he leaves behind.

Nausea roils his stomach, and that, combined with the hot tears streaming down his face, makes him want to retch. He places his head between his knees and takes some deep breaths. He vaguely registers that he should be worried about keeping up appearances in case a guest walks by, but it’s hard to give a damn about that when he feels like his world has turned upside down.

An automaton servant walks over and comes to a stop in front of him. Its glowing, mechanical eyes don’t show a hint of concern, but it wordlessly offers him a clean, white cloth. With shaking hands, Seonghwa takes it and wraps it around the wound. The fabric quickly darkens with his blood, but it staunches the flow enough for him to gather his composure.

He drags himself upright, leaning heavily against the banister. He hauls himself up the staircase, one agonizing step at a time. He isn’t particularly fond of the idea of staying in his childhood room, but going back to base and having to face Hongjoong might be even worse.

He stumbles into his room, the door creaking as it opens. Seonghwa sobers a bit as he’s hit with a wave of nostalgia, the unchanged interior reminding him of his youth from before he was a soldier. Moonlight peers in through the window, bathing his old desk in a soft, silver light. It reminds him of quieter, simpler times, hours spent studying in his room, playing with building blocks and paper dolls.

He takes a seat in his desk chair, and his eyes drift to the portrait of his mother hung above the fireplace. He barely remembers her face outside of what it looks like in the painting; she smiles down at him with a warmth he can no longer feel. Sighing, he takes a first aid kit out of one of the drawers and begins the familiar routine of treating his wound, years of muscle memory kicking in. He peels away the blood-soaked cloth, grimacing at the sight of the jagged shards of glass still embedded in his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he starts to extract each piece, ignoring the stinging pain that shoots up his entire arm. He sterilizes the wound with a stinging splash of alcohol and then hastily wraps it with a clean bandage.

Once he finishes, Seonghwa collapses onto his bed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He doesn’t know how much time passes before he is brought back from the edge of sleep by a gentle knock on his door.

“Go away,” he croaks, his voice barely audible as he speaks into his bedsheets.

The knock sounds again, more insistent this time. Seonghwa immediately tenses. Is it his father, coming to berate him further?

“Seonghwa,” a voice murmurs from the other side, the timbre so soft, so hesitant. It isn’t his father—it’s Hongjoong. A rush of anxiety and embarrassment shoots through Seonghwa at the thought of facing him, so he buries his face in his pillow and pretends he doesn’t hear.

The knocking persists until it becomes too much of a nuisance to ignore. “I’m trying to sleep, Joong.”

There’s a pause before Hongjoong responds. “I know. I just wanted to check on you. Can you open the door?”

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The knocking stops and, for a moment, Seonghwa thinks that Hongjoong really walked away. But then he begins to speak again.

“Okay. We don’t have to talk. But listen to me, alright? What happened tonight… I’m not upset, and I don’t blame you. What your father did to you, putting you on the spot like that, it wasn’t right. Especially with you being as drunk as you were. I…” His voice hitches and Seonghwa can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he struggles with what he wants to say. “I should have stopped you from drinking that much. I knew something was bothering you, but I didn’t press you on it. That’s on me. Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Seonghwa bites his lower lip to keep his cries from becoming audible; Hongjoong is kind, too kind, and he doesn’t deserve that kindness. Not now.

A moment of agonizing silence passes before Hongjoong says, “I’ll just leave you to rest then. Goodnight, Hwa. I… goodnight.”

Months pass with Seonghwa avoiding Hongjoong whenever he has the opportunity. Between spending most nights sleeping at home instead of their shared room and investing himself in his new duties, It’s surprisingly easy. Even though they’re part of the same squad, Hongjoong is always on elite missions, carrying out confidential orders, or out to dinner with other high-ranking officials. Rarely do they go out on missions together, and when they do, there’s little time for personal talk as General Nightingale usually accompanies them.

It’s not that Seonghwa doesn’t want to make things better with Hongjoong—he does, truly. But every time he thinks about facing him, about bringing up that night, his stomach lurches with fear. He’s not ready to confront the guilt that still gnaws at him endlessly, not ready to face the gentleness he knows he will find in Hongjoong’s eyes.

It doesn’t help that his father, after inevitably finding out about their falling out, has been pressuring him every chance he gets to fix things. Not out of love or care, but because of the prestige Hongjoong now holds as a commendation winner and the connections he and his family have. If they do become close again, Seonghwa worries that, through him, Hongjoong will just become a pawn.

It’s a cold, winter evening when Seonghwa accidentally bumps into Hongjoong outside their quarters. He had just stopped in for a moment to grab a heavier coat, not expecting anyone to be there. Hongjoong is dressed from head to toe in his winter event uniform, the same striking red and black as usual but with synthetic fur lining the collar. He looks like one of the princes from the old-world storybooks Seonghwa’s nanny would secretly read to him when he was little.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong says, surprise evident in his voice.

“I was just leaving,” Seonghwa mutters, trying to move past him, but Hongjoong blocks his way.

“Please, don’t. We need to talk.”

Seonghwa worries his bottom lip, trapped between the desire to flee and the knowledge that Hongjoong is right and a conversation is long overdue; he’s been running for far too long. “Okay,” he agrees. “You’re right.”

Hongjoong walks into the room and Seonghwa follows. The space feels oddly unfamiliar to him now, even though it’s the place where they used to share countless meals and stay up late into the night talking. They sit down on their respective beds, the distance between them feeling far larger than it actually is.

“Hongjoong—”

“Seonghwa—”

They start to speak at the same time and immediately stop, cutting themselves off with awkward laughter. The tension eases, but only slightly. Hongjoong gestures for Seonghwa to begin first.

“I… I’ve been avoiding you,” he admits, his gaze fixed pointedly on the floor. “And I know that’s not fair. Especially not after the mess I caused at your celebration dinner. I—”

“Hwa, wait. You don’t have to apologize for what happened at the dinner. You were obviously hurting, and you needed someone. I should have been that someone for you. I’m sorry.” Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak but Hongjoong continues, “Wait. While I will apologize for that, and I don’t blame you for what happened that night, I am upset that you have been avoiding me. In fact, I’m livid. Since when do we not talk about our problems? I thought we were closer than this.”

The silence stretches on as Seonghwa struggles to form a reply. “You’re right,” he finally admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. “We… we are closer than this. I’ve just been so… God, I’ve missed you, Joong. I’m so sorry. For all of it.”

Hongjoong’s stern expression softens at that. “I’ve missed you too. More than I can say. Do you know how many nights I stayed out late, expecting to come home to one of your homemade dinners? Or to you nagging me about working myself too hard, or not cleaning up my side of the room? I didn’t realize how much I depended on you until you just disappeared. Maybe I should have appreciated you more, or—”

“No, no, you did more than enough for me. You are one of the only reasons I have made it this far, not just in the program, but in life. I mean, I was such a scared little boy before I met you, I—” Seonghwa takes a shuddering breath. “I still am. I was scared to death of what you would think of me after that night, scared of what my father might do, scared I would lose my position, lose you—”

Hongjoong jumps up from his bed, coming to sit next to Seonghwa so he can wrap him in a hug. “You won’t lose me. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says or does, you will never lose me. Promise.” His grip tightens as he says this, as if to emphasize the sincerity of his words.

Seonghwa feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he buries his face into Hongjoong’s shoulder, refusing to let them fall. He just allows himself to be held, to soak in the comfort. This feels familiar—safe, like home.

“I don’t want to run away anymore,” Seonghwa says.

“Good, because I can’t bear you running away again,” Hongjoong replies, his voice barely audible. “Move back in. Please.” Something about the way Hongjoong says this sounds like a confession.

“Okay, Joong. I will.”

They spend the rest of the night talking, laughing, making up for lost time. They agree that they won’t discuss their achievements, that they’ll put aside their differences, and just try to go back to the way things were. Time moves on, and slowly but surely, it seems to work. The following weeks are a whirlwind of vigorous training, missions, events, and more training, yet there is an underlying sense of peace and contentment that had been missing for so long.

Occasionally, Seonghwa still feels a tug of guilt, especially whenever his father decides to make some offhand comment. But when that does happen, all he has to do is look at Hongjoong and remember his promise. He won’t let anything get in the way of their friendship again.

One night, months after their reconciliation, Seonghwa walks into their quarters to find Hongjoong asleep at his desk, the dark circles under his eyes relaying his exhaustion. The sight is a familiar one; he remembers the countless times in the past when he found Hongjoong in a similar state. He quietly approaches him, taking in the numerous reports and other documents strewn about.

As gently as possibly, he picks Hongjoong up and carries him over to his bed, laying him down on top of his blankets. He softly brushes a stray lock of hair from Hongjoong’s forehead, smiling down at him as he sleeps. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, his body relaxing further into the comfort of the bed. Seonghwa contemplates waking him to eat, certain that he hasn’t, but decides against it. He seems like he needs sleep more than anything. Heading to his own bed, he crawls under the covers, ready to get some rest of his own.

Another year passes in a blur, with both Hongjoong and Seonghwa falling comfortably into their new roles. Hongjoong rises in rank, becoming a sergeant, while Seonghwa focuses on his own responsibilities, earning a solid reputation amongst their squad mates thanks to his meticulous eye for detail. Throughout it all, they try to carve out time to spend together when they can, refusing to let things get as bad as they were before.

One night, they’re out to dinner with Soohyuk, Sunhee, and General Nightingale to celebrate a recent win in which they managed to dismantle part of a criminal ring based in the Scrapyard. One of the leaders was captured and detained, thanks to the general’s brilliant plan and the Vanguard Elite’s flawless execution.

“Seonghwa?” His father holds up a bottle of wine, gesturing to Seonghwa’s empty glass.

Seonghwa clenches and unclenches his fist. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? It’s a fine vintage.” The smirk on his lips suggests it’s more than a simple question.

Hongjoong clears his throat and turns to General Nightingale, smoothly redirecting the conversation. “So, General, can you tell me more about the new opportunity you mentioned earlier?”

Elowen stirs in her chair, eyes shifting around from person to person before settling on Seonghwa. He gets the subtle feeling that this is something he isn’t supposed to know about.

“We’re starting a new program at the beginning of next year,” she says. “The Affiliates Assembly has worked out so well that we want to open up more opportunities for those who already have a place in the Symposium and Inner Sector.”

“And what do you want with my son?” Sunhee asks, eyebrows furrowing. “I think he has plenty of opportunities open to him already.”

“Certainly he does. But, he’s one of our strongest soldiers and he could be an asset—”

Soohyuk clears his throat, putting a stop to the conversation. “I think it is best if you finish this conversation later.” He glances at Seonghwa. “Not everyone here is privy to this type of information, after all.”

Seonghwa feels a pang of irritation at his father’s needless remark. Hongjoong shoots him a sympathetic glance from across the table and opens his mouth as if to say something before deciding against it. The topic switches to that of the new flu that seems to be sweeping through the Outer Sector. Soohyuk reassures everyone that he has spoken with the Outer Sector representative and it is being contained—it shouldn’t spread to anyone inside the Ring.

Seonghwa forgets about the conversation entirely, having not wanted to focus on it for fear of his jealousy rearing its head. At least until a few weeks later, when Hongjoong bursts into their bed room, the door slamming shut behind him. Seonghwa nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping the book he was reading onto his bedsheets.

“Joong—” Seonghwa stops short, the words dying on his lips as he takes in the sight of the man before him.

Hongjoong’s chest is heaving with panicked breaths, his eyes wide with a fear unlike anything Seonghwa has ever seen before. His hands are clenched into fists, shaking at his sides. He doesn’t seem to even process the fact that he isn’t alone in the room, beginning to pace as he mutters frantically under his breath.

“Fuck, what the fuck… I can’t… the fucking lab… cogbrains, all of them…”

Seonghwa can’t make out everything he says, but it’s enough to send a chill down his spine. He gets up, approaching Hongjoong calmly, carefully.

“Easy, Joong,” he says. “It’s alright. Tell me what happened.” Hongjoong doesn’t seem to hear him, still muttering. “Hongjoong, hey!”

Seonghwa reaches out and grabs his arm with a firm grip, forcing him to still. His touch seems to jolt Hongjoong back into reality and he whirls around to face him,

“Hwa?” he whispers. His voice sounds so broken, so terrified, so unlike the friend Seonghwa has come to know and love. It’s heartbreaking.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” Seonghwa murmurs, pulling the shorter man into his arms.

Hongjoong stiffens at first, but then his knees seem to buckle from underneath him as he collapses into the embrace. A strangled sob escapes him, muffled against the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt, the same shirt that he’s grasping onto so desperately.

“I’m not okay… It’s not… I can’t…”

“Shh, shh… I’ve got you.”

Seonghwa wraps his arms more tightly around Hongjoong’s trembling body, rocking him gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Even after he finally calms down, something about him is still so on-edge. He refuses to tell Seonghwa what he was upset about, no matter how much Seonghwa pries.

“Hongjoong, come on! Is it confidential? Does it have anything to do with what the general mentioned a few weeks ago? Why can’t you tell me?”

Hongjoong takes a shuddering breath. “I just can’t, Seonghwa. The situation is too complicated. I need to figure it out on my own.”

“What happened to our agreement to handle things together?”

“This isn’t… it’s not the same. I don’t want to bring you into this mess, it’s dangerous.”

“I can handle myself just fine—you don’t have to protect me!”

Hongjoong just shakes his head, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He looks like he wants to say more but instead gets up and storms toward the door.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa calls after him, but it’s too late. The door slams shut behind him, leaving Seonghwa alone in the room.

In the following days, Hongjoong becomes a shell of his former self. He is silent and distant, avoiding everyone, especially Seonghwa. He disappears for hours on end, returning each time looking more drained than the last. Usually, around this time of year, he’d be talking about his upcoming birthday, pretending he doesn’t want anything while simultaneously dropping hints about the latest tech or some book he’s been eyeing.

Even without Hongjoong showing any indication of wanting to celebrate, Seonghwa is determined to do something to lift his spirits. He won’t let whatever secret Hongjoong is holding onto change their yearly tradition of celebrating together. So, he goes all out with the planning, and spends days scouring the Nexus shops for the perfect gift. He even debates heading to the pier to take a look at a different variety of items, but with the flu that has been plaguing the Outer Sector, that’s probably not the best idea.

He finds a leather-bound journal in an old-world antique shop, it’s pages yellowed by time but in perfect condition otherwise. Hongjoong loves to write, and he’s never owned anything quite like this. Seonghwa purchases it without a second thought, barely even glancing at the price. It’s perfect.

The morning of, Seonghwa comes back to their shared quarters at a time when he knows Hongjoong should be at training. His arms are full of decorations, and the journal is tucked safely away in a gift bag. He struggles with the door, having to balance everything on his hip in order to turn the handle, but when he finally manages to get it open, he freezes.

The room is empty.

Not empty as in Hongjoong just isn’t in there—empty as in every single trace of him is gone.

Seonghwa lets go of the decorations, dropping them to the floor with a resounding crash. Candles escape their packaging, rolling on the hardwood, disappearing under furniture. The journal lays abandoned next to a string of silver stars. He stares at the room in disbelief, taking in everything that’s missing. The usual clutter of papers on the desk—the clutter Seonghwa would always complain about—is gone. Hongjoong’s shoes aren’t haphazardly stashed in front of his wardrobe. His aurvox, his tablet, all of his devices are nowhere to be found.

He’s gone. Hongjoong is gone.

No, Seonghwa thinks. Maybe he went to another Sector on an urgent mission. Surely there’s a logical explanation as to why he would leave without saying anything. Seonghwa rushes out of the room, praying that General Nightingale will actually be in her office for once. The halls are eerily quiet as he sprints down them, and he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

Reaching the general’s office, he barely knocks, forgoing the usual protocol of waiting for her permission to enter. Elowen is seated at her desk, pouring over some files which she quickly closes upon his intrusion.

“Ah, there you are. I was hoping we would have a chance to talk.”

“Wait, before you say anything—do you know where Hongjoong is?”

She raises an eyebrow. “That is exactly what I was going to ask you.”

Seonghwa’s heart drops into his stomach, and his mouth goes dry. He has to wet his lips before asking, “But… but he was with you, wasn’t he? At training this morning?”

“No, he wasn’t,” she sighs and puts down her pen, rubbing her temples. “He never showed up for training today. In fact, he’s been MIA since yesterday.”

Seonghwa’s knees nearly buckle and he stumbles toward the nearest chair. He’s vaguely aware of Elowen saying something more, about how if Hongjoong isn’t found he’ll be marked AWOL, he’ll lose everything he has been working towards, so on and so forth. But he can’t focus on her words, not when he feels like his world is crumbling to pieces. Nothing he has ever felt, not losing the commendation, not what happened at the dinner, even comes close to comparing to the devastation he feels now.

One day turns into two, two into three, but Hongjoong never shows up. His family confirms that he has had no contact with them, and he is officially marked AWOL. Now, even if he does come back, he will never be able to return to the same life he had before.

Seonghwa’s initial shock turns into anger. How could he throw away everything he’s worked for? How could he abandon his responsibilities, his squad, his family… Seonghwa? How could he leave without so much as a goodbye? How could he break his promise? Each day, the betrayal and hypocrisy of it all festers, like a scab that refuses to heal.

To make things worse, the flu from the Outer Sector makes its way through the Ring, into the Inner Sector, the Symposium, and even the Nexus. It’s as if Hongjoong leaving started a chain reaction of unfortunate events. Soldiers are falling ill left and right, spending days or even weeks in the infirmary. The base seems to become quieter and quieter. At night, when Seonghwa lays in bed, alone in his room, it’s so silent that he feels suffocated.

One morning, one of his squad mates approaches him, a forlorn look on their face. “Hey, did you hear? Apparently Larkin is sick with whatever flu has been going around.”

Larkin is another member of the Elites, someone Seonghwa has grown quite close to over the past almost two years. The news is worrying—they still don’t know what’s causing the sickness, or what can cure it. Luckily, most people seem to recover with no lasting issues, but that isn’t much of a balm to his nerves. Maybe it’s because Hongjoong’s disappearance still feels so fresh, but the idea of anything happening to someone else he cares about makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

After he finishes up with his daily training routine, Seonghwa heads to the infirmary to pay Larkin a visit. It’s a cold, sterile place, the stark white of the walls and harsh lighting making everything seem so impersonal. The pungent smell of antiseptic fills the air, turning Seonghwa’s stomach. Trying to ignore it, he heads toward the reception desk, smiling at the woman working.

“Hi. I’m here to see a Mr. Ashwell?”

The nurse fiddles with the knob of her eyeglass, pupils moving rapidly as her eyes follow text only she can see. After a moment, she says, “Larkin Ashwell? I’m sorry, he’s in the restricted wing. No visitors allowed.”

“The restricted wing? Is this flu that contagious?”

She gives a non-committal shrug. “I’m just telling you what his file says, sir.”

“Oh… Well, thank you.”

He turns around as if to leave, but, when she looks away, he quickly slips down a side corridor. He can’t shake the nagging feeling that something weird is going on. If he leaves without seeing Larkin, he fears he’ll never get any answers.

He holds himself confidently, knowing that the key to deception is acting like you belong. He walks past all of the nurses and doctors with what he hopes is a determined look on his face. He nods at them, as if he is familiar with them, as if they should be familiar with him. Luckily, no one spares him a second glance, and he makes it all the way to the restricted wing with no issues. However, once he tries to open the door, an alarm blares.

“Shit,” he curses, glancing at the wall. He didn’t notice the ID reader.

Panicking, he backs away from the door, but it’s too late. Two guards turn the corner and spot him, looks of surprise crossing their faces; they’re both from his graduating class. He tries to explain what he’s doing there and, as sympathetic as they are, they can’t let him off the hook. He’s given a stern talking to from General Nightingale, as well as a warning that one more infraction on his record will terminate his status as a Vanguard Elite.

But the worst confrontation is, of course, the one with his father.

“Attempting to break into a restricted area? Must you continue to bring shame to this family? To me?”

“Dad—”

“Stop. If I hear about you doing one more thing—one more stupid, idiotic thing—the General will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?” His father’s voice is laced with pure venom and Seonghwa can’t help but flinch. “I said do you understand?”

Seonghwa bows his head, making himself seem as small as possible. “Yes, sir. I do.”

He should stop there. He should listen to the general’s warning, to his father’s. But whenever he tries to sleep, his thoughts go haywire. He remembers Hongjoong’s fear, the secret he was holding onto. He thinks about Larkin scared, alone, sick with some unknown disease. He can’t just do nothing.

And so he returns to the infirmary no more than a day later.

The same nurse is stationed at the desk and Seonghwa ducks around a corner, waiting for an opening. He’s learned his lesson—running into this blindly won’t get him anywhere. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually she leaves to go check on a patient. He hurries up to the desk, grabs a spare ID card, and throws it around his neck, heading back to the restricted wing.

This time, he's ready. He scans the ID and the door opens with a satisfying click. He slips inside before anyone can see him. The restricted wing is dimly lit and eerily silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of machines. He searches everywhere for Larkin, looking at every bed, ducking his head into every private room, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Eventually, a doctor walks up to him, a questioning look on their face. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

Seonghwa’s heart jolts but he tries to temper down his panic. Confidence is key. “I’m looking for Mr. Ashwell.”

They activate their eyeglass, and, after a moment, confusion crosses their features. “Hm, it doesn’t look like we have a patient here by that name.”

“What do you mean? I was just told that he was in the restricted wing.”

“I’m sorry, but there must be some sort of mistake. I can go talk to my supervisor and see if we can get this all cleared up for you.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. He shouldn’t press his luck any further. “No, no, don’t bother. It’s fine. Thank you for your help.”

Feeling defeated, he leaves the infirmary, dropping the ID card on the floor near the reception desk to make it look as if someone had just misplaced it. He feels a prickling sensation of unease as he walks out into the crisp night air. The base is nearly deserted at this hour, save for the on-duty guards standing watch and a few people prepping for early morning drills. He pulls his collar up against the bite of cold and heads back to his quarters.

It all seems too suspicious: Hongjoong is AWOL, Larkin is sick with some mystery flu yet missing from the infirmary… Something is going on. It can’t be a coincidence.

The next day offers no respite from Seonghwa’s worries. General Nightingale sends out an announcement to everyone’s aurvox—Larkin is dead. The news hits him hard, knocking the breath out of him. He can hardly make sense of it. The illness, as far as he’s aware, hadn’t killed anyone. Why now?

He can’t stand not having any answers, so he goes to the one person he knows who should. His father. Soohyuk’s position as a Speaker means he has access to information few others possess, or at least that’s what he always boasts. Normally, Seonghwa would avoid his father at all costs, and the idea of depending on him for any kind of help doesn’t sit well with him. But he can look past his father’s misgivings for something this important.

He finds his father nursing a glass of whiskey in his study, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that makes it seem to glow. Soohyuk raises an eyebrow at his entrance.

“Seonghwa. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Dad. I need answers. About this flu. About Hongjoong. You have to know something.”

Soohyuk looks at him thoughtfully as he takes another sip of his drink. He doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and Seonghwa fights the urge to squirm under his gaze.

“I know a lot of things,” he finally says. “But that doesn’t mean I can share all of them.”

“Someone is dead! If you know something, you should feel obligated to do something about it!”

“The world is full of death. There’s nothing I, or anyone else, can do about that.”

His father’s cold response sends a chill down his spine—Seonghwa can’t believe how callous he is. But he can also tell that he is trying to avoid something.

“There’s something more going on, isn’t there?” he asks.

Soohyuk puts down his glass, standing up and brushing invisible specks of dust off of his pants. “I think we’re done here.”

Something inside Seonghwa snaps. He walks up to his father, getting in his face. “Stop! Stop treating me like a useless child! I am a soldier, a member of the Vanguard Elite squad—tell me what you know!”

Soohyuk finally loses it, pure rage slipping past his mask of indifference. He grabs Seonghwa by the collar, slamming him against the wall and knocking the wind out of him. “Fine. You want answers? You’re right. There is something big happening. Something that I cannot tell you about. Maybe if you got the commendation instead of your friend, you’d be able to be a part of this.”

“I’m your son! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“You are not my son. A child of mine would never be so weak.”

With that, he lets Seonghwa go, leaving the room without sparing him so much as a second glance. Seonghwa falls to his knees, gasping for breath. His back throbs from where he hit the wall, and he’s certain that there will be a nasty bruise there come morning.

For a moment, just one moment, he considers letting it all go and falling back into the role of an obedient soldier and son. But after everything that has happened, he can’t. Determined, he returns to his room and starts to pack.

He waits for an opportunity, and it comes in the form of a mission in the Outer Sector. The job is a simple one, something about discontented citizens and potential rebellion. It’s the Vanguard’s job to make sure nothing goes awry. But that’s not what he’s there for. Not this time.

With the rest of his squad distracted with their orders, he slips away from the group, putting his stealth training to good use. He sticks to alleyways and small, unlit streets, moving farther toward the outside of the Sector. The buildings become more and more dilapidated, some even missing parts of their walls or roofs. He feels like he never truly realized just how stark of a difference there is between the comfortability he grew up in and the harsh reality of those not as lucky. But his eyes are open to it now.

There’s something wrong in the Symposium. Something wrong with everything he has ever known. And if he doesn’t try to get to the bottom of it, who will?

He takes some materials out of his pack and, after some careful manipulation, creates what he hopes is a realistic looking fight scene. Signs of a struggle, torn clothing, even his Nexus ID thrown haphazardly on the ground. All that’s missing…

Seonghwa cuts open his palm, letting out a hiss. He clenches and unclenches his fist, encouraging more blood flow. He smears it on the clothes, on the ground, until enough of him has been left behind to paint a convincing picture. He knows this is it. There’s no going back from this, not after what he’s just done. Not that he wants to. He feels oddly free, despite the pain throbbing in his hand and the uncertainty of his future.

Bandaging the cut, he starts moving again. He knows there’s one place he can go where no one would ever think to look for him. The Scrapyard. A place for all of the Symposium and Inner Sector’s trash, broken technology and rusted metal. He thinks most of the upper class has forgotten that it even exists. He knows he has to be careful there, since it is a place home to scavengers and outlaws—people hardened by years of living in the underbelly of society. But he also knows it is a place where it is easy to disappear, to start anew.

Pulling his hood up over his face, he steps past the threshold, a small entrance hidden by piles of discarded machinery and rubble. As he moves deeper inside, scrap turns into ramshackle buildings. Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as dismal as he imagined. There's a strange charm to the place, with twinkling string lights hung between stacks of old cargo containers, casting everything in a warm glow. He stumbles upon an open area where a market bustles with activity, despite the late. Even some children run by, chasing a dilapidated automaton that zips through the dust.

As he ventures further, he finds himself at a makeshift bar, crafted from old metal panels and street signs. The bartender is a burly man with a wild mane of hair and a scar over his left eye.

"You’re new here,” he observes, wiping down a cracked glass. "Name's Brio. What can I get ya?”

“How about a place to stay?”

He gives a hearty laugh and looks Seonghwa up and down. "Ain't much for lodgin' here, pal. The 'yard ain't exactly a popular vacation spot. But there's always someplace to squeeze in if you ain't picky.”

“I’m not picky.”

“I find that pretty hard to believe, lookin’ at ya. You seem like the Inner Sector type.” Brio squints at him. "On the run from something or someone, are we?"

“I just need a place to lay low for awhile, that’s all.” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

Brio grins at him, showcasing his missing front teeth. “Not at all, kid. Welcome to the Scrapyard.”

Somewhere, a stolen letter sits in a locked drawer.

To: Hwa