#I mean I’ve never spent several days in bed

[moroniccats]

“Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time,”

Sherlock Holmes once again being the most relatable mess we’ve seen for the past century.

[ogviceversa]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[azrielsrealmate]

never just a best friend

azriel x reader

summary: your best friends offers a massage after a stressing day, only that his hands end up slipping to dangerous places.

warnings: smut

word count: 2k

Your feet ached, your head throbbed, and your skin itched in places you couldn’t reach to scratch. And your back—God, your back hurt.

You just needed a break. A break longer than the eight hours of sleep you rarely had time to get.

Azriel’s gaze from where he sat at the edge of your bed made the back of your neck burn. So you hurried to pull your shirt over your head, and the feeling disappeared, knowing he’d look anywhere but at you while you changed. You almost sighed in relief, almost rubbed the space between your brows. But instead, you unclasped your bra and slipped into a shirt several sizes larger than what you usually wore.

You hadn’t deliberately chosen Azriel’s shirt to breathe in the comforting scent of cedar and mist instead of the tobacco and beer your idiot ex had left lingering everywhere. You really hadn’t. But it was a relief you hadn’t known you needed.

“What happened?”

A simple question, but spoken in that voice, deep yet so soft, like silk brushing against clean skin, it almost made you sob.

What happened wasn’t the question; the question was why you felt so easily overwhelmed. You turned to look at him, and the caramel color of his eyes softened as he read how overstimulated you felt. He stood up, and even from the distance between you, you could clearly see how tall he was.

He crossed the space in mere seconds, and his scarred palm found your cheek, cradling it tenderly. Your eyes closed involuntarily. The warmth of his hand melted your mind, sending the hot liquid of it out of your body in the form of a sigh.

“What happened?” he repeated again.

You sighed.

“Adrik.” You said the name of your ex, not needing to open your eyes to know that Azriel’s features had hardened.

You spent so much time watching him that you’d almost memorized his micro-expressions.

“I ran into him at the café next door, and…” your best friend’s thumb stroked your cheek, encouraging you to continue. “Well, obviously, it didn’t end well.”

“What did he do?” Azriel asked, his voice rough. So different from how he’d asked what happened earlier. You could hear the sharp undertone clearly.

You’d been through this before.

You shook your head and moved his hand away from your cheek, your thumb tracing a small caress on his skin before letting go. You took off your pants, because you slept with little clothes, and you sighed heavily, walking toward your side of the bed.

“He just stuck to me like the worm he is.” You didn’t even want to imagine what would happen to the poor drunk Adrik if you let go of the weakening reins on Azriel. The muscles under your skin tingled pleasantly just thinking about it. Adrik had treated you so poorly, and it would be so easy to let Azriel handle him…

But, no. No. You weren’t doing this.

You sat on the bed, feeling your body tense slightly under his gaze. He studied you as if he wanted to squeeze out that feeling he knew existed in you, the one you worked so hard to push down, to extract and stretch it so he could examine it.

“What do you mean by…” his brows furrowed, finally processing your words.

You didn’t let him finish.

“Damn it, Azriel, he left after two minutes. Please, just lie down, I’ve had the worst day ever,” you pleaded, feeling a cramp run down your back. “And to top it all off, my back hurts,” you complained.

You heard Azriel exhale. It took him a fraction of a second to speak.

“I can see the tension in your muscles from here,” he said.

You rolled your shoulders, as if that would bring relief.

“It’s not that bad.”

He didn’t pay you the slightest attention.

“Where did you leave the oil from last time?” The last time he’d worked a wonderful massage on your back, you could swear it could have made you finish faster than Adrik ever had.

The silence in the room grew thicker as Azriel waited for your response. You knew he wouldn’t move until you told him. Not because he was pressuring you, but because he wanted to take care of you. As he always did.

“It’s in the nightstand, top drawer,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even though you knew exactly what it meant once he put his hands on you.

Azriel walked over to the nightstand, pulled out the small bottle of oil, and held it in his hand for a moment, assessing your state. His eyes met yours, and something in his gaze made your breath quicken slightly. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a massage, but this time, there was a tension between you that you couldn’t ignore, not when it made anticipation itch in your skin.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructed, his voice soft but firm. Your heart skipped a beat, and you hesitated for a moment, but seeing the calm in his eyes, you made up your mind. Slowly, you removed your shirt, revealing your body covered only by a tiny black thong.

Azriel swallowed, his eyes darkening slightly as they roamed over your figure. You felt a warmth spread across your skin under his intense gaze, but you remained still, waiting for his next move.

He approached, leaned in, and his large, warm hands grabbed your hips, quickly dragging you until you were sitting where he could rest his hands on your shoulders first, beginning with a light pressure. His touch was firm but gentle, and he began working on your tense muscles, gliding down your back with expertise. The oil, warm against your skin, made it easier for his hands to move as he focused on relaxing you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt a knot dissolve under his fingers. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear.

“Let go of all that tension,” he murmured, his voice rough with concentration as his hands traveled down your back to the curve of your waist, his thumbs pressing gently at the base of your spine.

A low moan escaped you, and you closed your eyes, allowing the pleasure of the massage to envelop you completely. Azriel continued, his hands moving confidently, exploring every inch of your lower back, dangerously close to the edge of your thong. His touch was addictive, and though you tried to stay calm, you felt your body reacting to every caress, every calculated pressure.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look,” Azriel whispered, his voice vibrating against your skin as his hands paused for a moment, just above the line of your thong. The heat in his voice made you shiver.

Opening your eyes, you turned your head slightly to look at him, finding his face close to yours, his eyes locked on yours. The tension in the room became almost palpable, and in that instant, you knew you had crossed a line.

Azriel lowered his hands, sliding them down your hips to the edge of your thong, slowly—too slowly.

He stopped in the curve of your hips, squeezed the flesh, in his hands, feeling and appreciating them. And slowly, he guided one hand toward your abdomen, the other toward your ribs.

You whimpered slightly, needily, your breath heavy.

“Be patient,” he murmured against your ear, your eyes fluttering closed. You felt the warmth of his hand move up to cup one of your breasts, relishing its size. Your brows arched. “Az…” you sighed.

His other hand slid down to slip under the fabric of your black thong, finding there a wetness that made him hum in satisfaction.

“So wet, all this for me?” You moaned again, struggling to keep your eyes open.

His scarred fingers explored your wetness, tracing a line from your entrance to your clitoris, spreading all your arousal. He drew a circle on your clit, torturously slow, tentative, you might have said if your brain weren’t mush.

Your back arched again. “Azriel,” you moaned his name, and he, in turn, growled in your ear.

“Do you like that?” he asked, and you realized he wanted an answer when he stopped his fingers.

“Yes, yes!” you pleaded, almost desperately.

Azriel let out a low sound, almost a growl, upon hearing your response, satisfied with the power he had over you in that moment. His hand remained still, his fingers barely brushing your clit, enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the relief you so desperately craved. The tension in the room was palpable, each passing second seemed to stretch time, amplifying the desire that wrapped around you.

“If you enjoy it so much,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine, “then you’re going to wait a little longer.”

The sweet agony of anticipation spread through your body as Azriel maintained that light, frustrating touch that made every fiber of your being burn with desire. You tried to move, seeking more of him, more of that contact that promised so much, but his hands became firm, holding you in place.

“Don’t move,” he ordered gently, and there was an authority in his voice that made you obey without hesitation. There was something about the way Azriel controlled you, how he handled your body with such precision, that made you feel vulnerable and at the same time completely safe. You felt the heat of his body against your back, his hardness pressed against you as his scarred fingers moved again, this time applying more pressure on your clit. The pleasure that blossomed from that simple touch was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan, arching your back to get closer to him.

"Good girl," Azriel whispered, his tone laden with satisfaction as he increased the rhythm of his caresses. You felt his other hand slide up your abdomen, moving up to caress your breasts, squeezing them with a possessiveness that made your breath catch in your throat. His lips pressed against your neck, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his fingers continued to play with your wetness.

“I want you to come for me,” he growled against your ear, his voice a comman. And with that, his movements became more intense, more urgent. The sweet torture he’d imposed on you faded into a wave of pleasure so overwhelming that it left you trembling, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as you approached the edge. His fingertips skilfully working on your clit.

Azriel’s fingers worked with expert precision, pushing you closer and closer to the precipice of an orgasm, until you finally exploded in a wave of pure pleasure, your body trembling as you were suddenly blind and deaf from pleasure. You let out a long, satisfied moan as Azriel’s name escaped your lips in a sigh, your whole being consumed by the heat of that moment.

And even as the pleasure began to fade, Azriel didn’t stop. His hands continued to explore your body, his lips still pressed against your neck, leaving wet kisses that sent delicious shivers through your spine. The sensation of his touch, so skilled and confident, combined with the residual pleasure of your orgasm, left you breathless, utterly spent in his arms.

When you finally came down from that blissful high, you turned to look at him, finding a possessive gleam in his eyes, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Well, you had never considered him just your best friend.

"I hope your back doesn’t hurt anymore.”

[saidrabbles]

the way you are

pairing: kwon jiyong x idol! reader

summary: amidst crazy stalker threats, you receive an irresistible opportunity to collaborate with the one and only, g-dragon.

warnings: excessive stalking, threatening with weapons.

a/n: i’m always reluctant to write for jiyong, feeling like i won’t give it justice. but i’ve been wanting new jiyong fics heh

not proofread

breathe in, breathe out. that’s what you have been trying to do to regulate the overwhelming fear and stress from the last couple of months. you’ve had plenty of haters, critics and stalkers all up on your business, but not quite like this one. the stalker released personal information that almost cost you your house, as you stare at the plants that you’ve spent incredible attention so that they flourish. not only that, but he started threatening your life, posting photos of the weapons he will use on you.

which is why you’re currently laying on your bed, with countless guards all around your apartment, as well as the entry. what started as a two-week hiatus stretched into three months, as they still can’t pinpoint his location. your thoughts quiet down as the ringing becomes louder. it’s your manager. “hello? have you found him?” it was instinct at this point, asking about updates.

the person on the other side sighed, “no, but i received an interesting collaboration invite. i know that you can’t think about music at the moment, but i thought if i turn this one down without asking you, you’d come for my ass one day.” you were intrigued to say the least. “go on..”

“it’s g-dragon.” you jump up from your bed, your breath caught in your throat. “he’s making his comeback album, and he told us he would love to work with you, he’s a fan.” you feel your heart beat a little faster. you not only know about g-dragon, but you knew him as kwon jiyong too. you’ve met at several events, hitting it off as you found several shared interests. but he never asked for your number, nor did you.

you sat silently thinking about doing a collaboration with him, during this icky time where you don’t know how to go out without feeling hyper-aware of every eyeball pointed your way. but remembering his deep brown eyes got you agreeing. you missed singing, and you missed the presence of another human other than your bodyguards and manager. that’s all that it is, you tried reasoning with yourself.

~~~~

walking down to his studio, you felt nervous. there will be nothing between us, you breathed. you knocked, and almost immediately heard footsteps coming your way. he opened the door, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. “hey.” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “hey” you smiled. he settled for a handshake, wanting to seem cool and casual. you felt vulnerable standing outside, and wanted to be engulfed with the safety of four walls as soon as possible. you couldn’t shake the uneasiness.

for the next few hours, thoughts of said stalker left you as you listened to his demo, discussed the essence of the song, which emotions he wanted the song to evoke. he was truly charming when he spoke with such passion. his eyes sparkled in a way that pulled you right into them, wanting to know the meaning behind some of the deeper sparkles in them. he has a habit of ruffling his hair or biting his thumb when he’s thinking, you thought to yourself.

the moment of admiration and peace came to a stop as your manager entered the studio with worried eyes. you knew. you excused yourself as you left the studio with her, feeling the overwhelming stress take over your senses. “he’s posted again. he was dumb enough to leave a big clue on where he is, but i’m not sure we’ll make it in time.” you felt yourself go numb. he’s on the run, he could be anywhere and you were not in the safety of your home. “hey” the brunette held you in place by the shoulders, “don’t worry. i’m here, you’re here and i will protect you no matter what.” she sighed “the safest place right now is in that studio” she left you frozen in place as your manager went to talk to the police.

after a few minutes, you regained your composure and went back in.

he could sense your change in demeanor, he could see it in the paleness of your once rosy cheeks, the lack of focus in your eyes. you sat in your chair, barely acknowledging the warm presence next to you. he stared at you for a few moments, trying to figure out what went wrong.

he was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a clap. “okay, let’s do this!” you try to look at him, unable to hold eye contact, feeling like you would cry if you did. “i think i got the gist of what you want in the song, i want to start on the lyrics right away- “(y/n)” you stopped midway, but still refused to fully look at him, the plushies on his sofa look way more interesting than his intuitive eyes. “(y/n), please look at me.” he tried again.

you don’t know if it was the pleading or the softness of his voice that made you give in. you slowly look at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes. his brows knit together in a frown, looking like a worried puppy. you bring your shaking hands to your face, covering the tears threatening to fall. “i’m so tired” your voice was raw and shaky.

all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, to kiss away your precious tears...but he wanted you to be comfortable in being vulnerable with him and didn't want to scare you off.

"i just.." your voice was betraying your stance of resilience. that's when you felt a hand caressing the top of your head, so softly that you'd almost not notice if you weren't closing your eyes trying to suppress your tears. "i’ve been stalked for a while now, and yes i know, we have stalkers almost everywhere we go but this…he’s different.” you finally gain the courage to take your hands away from your face.

you carefully look at him, only to see his eyes already searching yours. “at first it was ‘normal’ stalking behavior but it progressed aggressively, from posting my whereabouts with possessive words to posting photos of me in the distance and a weapon pointed at my direction.” you heard him sharply inhale, like a dragon preparing to blow a huge fire on something, or someone. only then did you realize the close proximity that you’re in, his knees almost touching your thighs.

his eyes were no longer warm and inviting, you can almost see the protective fiery glistening. he gets up and leaves, leaving you dumbfounded. after what felt like hours, he came back. “i talked to my attorney, he works with some of the best detectives in seoul, and he will get the fucker on his knees in two days max.” he walked towards you, “until then, please allow me to escort you to the safest place i know, a house that not even my family knows about.” he stops in his tracks, his eyes widening at you. that’s when you realize your tears has betrayed you and are flowing freely down your face.

without thinking, he kneels down at where your sitting, and envelops you in the warmest embrace. it was right, protective, and everything you needed. sobs escaped as you held on to him, finally letting go. “i’m scared” you say almost incoherently, and you feel him pulling you closer, if it was even possible, as he drew comforting circles on your back. as he whispered protective promises, you felt your cries becoming hiccups, as you slowly calmed down.

he pulled away, only slightly, with one of his hands holding you while the other cupped you face, gently wiping your tears away. “i’m sorry that i didn’t know sooner” he breathed. “it’s okay” you choked. “no, it’s not. i have been following your updates, looking forward to anything that you do, wanting to approach you, but i never did.” he eyes moved down your lips for a moment then back to your eyes. “i should’ve asked your number the first day that i met you.” he confessed. it was your turn to stare at him wide-eyed.

“what do you…” you were once again aware of your close proximity. “mean?” you whispered, afraid talking any louder would give your feelings away. “i…liked you the first time i saw you, then started wanting more of you when i started talking to you. you amaze me, (y/n), truly.” he let you go, and you didn’t realize that you were holding your breath. “but i didn’t want to come off as weird, because, as weird as it sounds, im serious about you.”

you felt warmness spread from the center of your ribs outwards, enveloping you whole with new intense feelings. “well,” you breathed, “then that makes us two weirdos.” you brought your hand to hold his in place, afraid that he’ll run away with your confession, “i feel the same way about you” he felt his heartbeat speeding. “i like you too, jiyong. and i wanted to get your number way earlier on as well.”

you were almost blinded by his toothy smile, his eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights. and before you could return a smile, he pressed his lips on the space between your brows, sending an embarrassing blush from your cheeks down to your neck. he pulled back, ghostly brushing his thumb over your lower lip, and before you could prepare your heart, he closed in the distance.

he wanted it to be a gentle kiss, he really did, but he couldn’t get enough of you. he could almost taste the coffee you’ve had a while ago, and he wanted to devour all of you. he put one hand around the back of your neck and his other on your waist and kissed you harder, biting your lower lip for permission. but he didn’t need one, because you were so desperate to let him in. he was rough, his neediness seeping through the kiss.

you both got lost in the kiss, forgetting about the necessity of air. you reluctantly pull back, only enough for the both of you to breathe, as he rested his forehead on yours. “that was…” you were both smiling. you haven’t felt this safe and happy in a really long time, and you didn’t want to let go of him, ever. “so, you said you know of a safe place for me?” you can see the side of his mouth move upwards into a smirk, “eager, are we?” you hit the his elbow, giggling.

“we have plenty of time to get there, i want to take it slow, with you.” you looked away, your cheeks betraying you. you heard him laugh, “me too (y/n), and i’ve never felt this way about someone. i want to protect you, if you allow me to.” you reached for his hand, interlocking them, and adding a reassuring squeeze “you have no choice now, since i don’t think i can feel safe with anyone but you.” you still had one question lingering in your mind.

“hey…uhm, does that mean you didn’t really want to collaborate with me? like…using it as an excuse..?”. “no, i really love your music, and i really want to release music with you.” you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that what he said wasn’t true. “although, i’m not going to lie, i thought if you saw me doing what i do best, music, you would…like me.” you placed your hand on the top of his head, ruffling it.

“but i liked you for the way you talk, the way you try to involve everyone in the conversation, the way your eyes shine when you talk about your passions.” you were now stroking his cheek, “i liked the way you carried yourself, and i like you even more for the way that you can be vulnerable with me. i love your music, of course, but kwon jiyong is so much more than music.” you smiled.

he brought your palm to his lips, and kissed it. he was in trouble now. you were in trouble. because he believes that he won’t be able to let you go, ever.

[tootiecakes234]

The Nanami brain rot has taken over😭

Here are random Kento Headcanons:

SFW:

You will not pay for a single thing whilst in this man presence and will feel completely insulted if you even THINK about paying yourself.

His nicknames for you: darling, my love, sweetheart, angel, my good girl🤭 and Y/N(only when he’s being stern with you)

Spoils you and I mean spoiled rotten. You have hyper fixations, he completely indulging you in whatever it is. You have a hobby, he’s providing all the supplies you need to fulfill it.

As soon as you start spending nights at his house, his bathroom is fully stocked with everything you might need, he keeps your favorite foods on deck and buys several changes of clothes for you to keep there.

He works and often but any free time he has is spent with you. You are the only reason he ever takes vacation time. He will whisk you away to a tropical island for a week and indulge you both.

He gets so tense from work sometimes and having you work out kinks for him and generally just give him much needed massages is his favorite thing in the whole world.

Nanami also really likes buying outfits for you to wear. And will lay out outfits for you to wear on random days.

If he has the time, he always cooks for you but he really appreciates that reciprocate that and cook for him on days when he doesn’t have the time.

NSFW

This man has 3 vastly different sides to him and bed and it’s really just depends on his mood which one you’re going to get.

You have the adoring Kento who worships your body like you’re a goddess. Kisses & caresses like you’re the finest of china. He has nights when all he cares about is your pleasure and he’ll be between your legs for hours without ever finishing himself.

Then you have the needy starved Kento that ravages you like, simply put, a whore. Will put your down on your hands and knees and fucks your mouth like a cunt. Pulls your hair while fucks into your from behind telling you how filthy and sloppy your cunt in in your ear. This Kento also borders the line of being an exhibitionist.

And the the 3rd kento that LOVES to tease you. Where he touches you all day, kissing your neck and behind your ear but when you get home will act like nothings happened and waits until you beg him to fuck you. The one that brings you to the brink of orgasm over and over but never letting you finish until you start crying. This kento is also borderline exhibitionist.

Not matter what side of his you get tho, afterwards he is right back to being the devoted boyfriend/husband with the immaculate aftercare.

Also think this man is very into anal play so beware of his slipping fingers and toys into no man’s land.

He will offer to bring in toys very early in the sexual relationship because he understand they are an enhancement to your pleasure and he’d never deny you. He also has toys he likes you to use on him as well.

Loves tying your hands together or to the headboard while he has his way with you. Usually uses of his ties to do so.

Anyways…. I can’t stop thinking about him. In my current daydream we are buying our first house together and these are re couple of the Headcanons I’ve imagined so far🤭

Also I didn’t proofread so🥺 don’t be mean.

Kento Nanami Masterlist

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Pregnancy, Prime Mover au, oral sex, ritual sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Additional Tags: friends to lovers, use of pet names, domestic fluff, developing relationship, no beta Word Count: 3176 Chapters: 4/5 Summary: When Papa Emeritus IV needs to find a Prime Mover, you volunteer yourself. Ao3 || Masterlist Parts: I — II —III

cw: pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms Note: I've never been pregnant, I'm just going on what I've seen friends and family have gone through and google, so if things aren't accurate about our character's pregnancy, I apologize.

IV.

Another month went by and still no results. 

You returned to Doctor Miller and asked for another blood test to double-check your hormone levels. They were all within your target range, and you still didn’t understand why you weren’t getting pregnant.

“I can recheck Papa if you’d like,” Doctor Miller said kindly. “It’s your right to request that of me as Prime Mover.” 

“His tests were good?” You asked.

She nodded. 

“No need then,” you said with a frown as you tried to think what the issue could be.

“It’s probably stress,” the doctor suggested. “Fulfilling a role like this isn’t easy. You’re putting more pressure on yourself than you’re used to. Try to relax and not focus so hard on getting pregnant. It will happen when it’s meant to.”

You nodded. “I’ll try.”

“In the meantime, we’ll keep monitoring you and Papa.”

You knew things weren’t going to get less stressful. Copia was going on tour soon, and that was going to throw a big wrench in plans. You were going with him, at least. It was in your contract that you were to accompany him on any travel unless you were pregnant. Which you weren’t and at this rate, weren’t going to be anytime soon. 

You were glad you were going with him. You didn’t know what you weren’t going to do if you had to stay behind without him. The two of you spent so much time together that he became a permanent fixture in your life, regardless of having his child or not. He had changed you without even meaning to. Copia made you feel so special and cared for. He made you feel like you were important for once. 

And you weren’t oblivious. You saw the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice. He left you little gifts, be it a favorite snack, or something to make you comfortable like a very nice body pillow, expensive bath salts and lotions, or even just a massage and soft kisses after a long day and he just finished fucking you into the mattress. He no longer looked as frazzled as he had before. There was a peaceful aura around him. It was like nothing could shake him. You obviously had an effect on him, too. 

When you got back to your room, you kicked off your shoes and flopped onto your bed. How were you going to make things less stressful when you had to be pregnant in 10 months, all while traveling the world and barely seeing Copia while he attended rehearsals and performed for thousands of fans almost every time for the next several months? You wondered if you should schedule an appointment with a therapist to help you find ways to deal with the stress and be less stressed. 

But all that was getting to you, and your eyes felt heavy before you drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke hours later, it was dark in your room. Save for the soft glow of your tv.

Weird, I didn’t have that on , you thought as you rolled onto your other side. You jump when you see Copia sitting against the pillows and headboard, watching the Golden Girls. He was in sweats and only had his paints around his eyes and on his upper lip.

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

He starts at your voice but then looks down at you with such affection that you thought you were going to melt right into the mattress. “Just after seven,” he answers.

You groan. “I’ve been asleep for 4 hours. I didn’t mean to nap that long. Also, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you normally don’t just come in and make yourself at home.”

“Do you want me to go?” He asked.

“No,” you answer.

“When you didn’t come to dinner, I got worried and found you in here asleep. I…I’m sorry if I overstepped by inviting myself in and staying with you. I just…” he trailed off as though he were unsure how to proceed with his answer. 

“It’s nice that you worry,” you said as you sat up in bed. “I appreciate you came and checked in on me…it was nice to not have to wake up alone.”

His lips tilted up in a smile as he laid his hand over yours, squeezing your fingers. “Well, now that you’re awake, do you want to eat? The kitchens made steaks tonight.”

“That sounds good,” you agreed.

It was nearly nine when the two of you finished eating. Copia had the food brought up to your rooms, and the two of you sat in bed and ate off trays while the tv played. You kept feeling his eyes on you, like he wanted to ask you something. When he glanced over for the fifth time after he cleaned up the dishes, you sighed.

“Something on your mind?” You asked.

“I can feel the worry rolling off of you in waves,” Copia said. “What’s going on?”

“The same thing that’s been going on,” you answered. You didn’t particularly want to talk about it with him; you would have preferred to wallow in your self-pity, but Copia wasn’t going to allow that, it seemed.

“Not getting pregnant,” he said.

“We’re going to be leaving in a month, and you’re basically going to be on tour for almost the majority of our contract period. How are we supposed to make a baby when we’re both stressed out? The doctor keeps saying there’s nothing wrong with me, but I keep worrying there is, and I stress about that on top of everything else. I can’t go through a whole year with you and I fucking just to end up with no baby and forced to watch you take another prime mover. I can’t keep having sex with you and just pretending it’s just sex. I can’t do it, Copia, I can’t.”

You weren’t sure when you started crying, but the tears were pouring hot and heavy down your cheeks by the time you were done. You weren’t controlling the words that were leaving your mouth anymore, either. There was a line that you were about to cross, and everything would change once you did. But you couldn’t stop yourself. “Because, despite knowing I shouldn’t have feelings for you in case this didn’t work, I have feelings for you. For fuck’s sake, I’m falling in love with you, Copia.” 

Before you know it, Copia’s mouth came crashing down on yours in an intense and passionate kiss. One hand cupped your cheek, and the other threaded into your hair, holding your head to his as he kissed you. It was the type of kiss you often see described in the romance novels you sometimes read: hot, passionate, intimate…

But for you, it was the love you felt coming through in the way his lips moved against yours. 

This wasn’t the same kisses you two exchanged during foreplay. It was entirely different, and you knew he felt the same about you. You knew he was falling in love with you while you fell for him. It was dangerous territory. Your experiences with love always left you broke and rebuilding yourself from the ground up, but deep down inside, you felt something telling you this was different. Copia wasn’t going to purposely break your heart. He wasn’t going to leave you for another. He wasn’t going to hurt you.

You feel him lay you back on your bed before his mouth finally parted from yours. He was breathless, and black paint from his upper lip smeared around his mouth and no doubt around yours, too. He said nothing as he stared down at you in wonder. 

“Ti stai innamorando di me? Di un vecchio come me? (You are falling in love with me? An old man like me?) ” He breathed. 

“I don’t understand what you just said,” you admitted. 

“Bah, it doesn’t matter. You are falling in love with me and I you,” he said, pressing kisses to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw.

“Yes,” you respond, your heartbeat racing with each gentle kiss. “How long have you felt this way?”

“I think I started falling for you the day you said you’d be my Prime Mover,” he responded as his hands pushed your shirt up over your stomach and breasts. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, even sitting up some to help him pull the shirt over your head. Once you were lying prone again, his lips were kissing down your chest and stomach.

“I want to make love with you,” he said. “I want this to be different. Want to take my time with you. I don’t want this to be just fucking.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” You giggle softly, looking down at him, kissing your belly. 

He gave you a smirk and brought his lips back to yours. 

Soon, both of you stripped naked, and your soft moans and pants filled the room as he brought you to orgasm with his fingers.

“That’s it, my baby,” he said in a low voice, his fingers still curled inside of you as he guided you through your climax. “Squeeze my fingers nice and tight.”

This certainly wasn’t the first time you had sex with him, but this time was different. It was gentler and less hurried. Copia even seemed different in that moment as he withdrew his fingers from you. 

You watched as he sucked each of his fingers clean while he repositioned yourself between your knees. He guides his cock to your entrance, rubbing the head up and down over your clit. It sent a jolt through you and made you gasp softly. Copia chuckled softly as he pushed into you slowly. 

It was soft and slow, deep and intense. Your eyes never left his as he thrust into you and intertwined his fingers with yours. It was so different from every other experience you had. You realized there was a real difference between making love and fucking. What Copia was doing to you couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than making love to you.

You leaned up and kissed up, hands releasing him to cup his face. “I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

Your words made him flatter for just a second. He pulled back from you, repositioning you so that he could wrap your legs around his middle and lift your hips. It pushed him deeper into you, making you gasp. 

“E ti amo (And I love you),” he responded with a groan. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before her continued to thrust in and out of you. “Non hai idea di quanto ti senti bene (You have no idea how good you feel).” He slipped his hand between of your joined bodies and rubbed your clit with his thumb in slow, methodical circles.

Soon you were coming and then he right after you. When he pulled out of you, you felt his seed trickle from your entrance. It made you shiver in delight as you looked up at his panting, disheveled form. You smiled at him, unable to believe that the man looking down at you was in love with you. 

“They’re going to hear us,” you said, looking around the tiny suite at the back of the tour bus. Just outside the very thin door were the built-in bunks the ghouls would sleep in. The tour was starting in less than a week, and the tour buses had just arrived, so the band and the crew could start prepping them and loading them with luggage. 

“Begh, let them hear,” Copia said. “Why shouldn’t they hear how good I make you feel?” 

You blushed a bright pink. “Copia…”

“What?” He shrugs. “I have no shame.” 

“I can tell,” you laugh as she sat back on the bed, testing the softness of it. It wasn’t as nice as her or Copia’s bed, but it would do. She felt heat rush to her core as she thought about them, on the road, making love after every concert. Ever since they confessed their feelings for one another, sex between them was different. It was more meaningful, more passionate.

You knew no one else would ever compare. Not that you’d ever want anyone else.

“And what will you do? Hmmm? Not going to have sex with me unless we’re in a hotel?” He teased, crawling onto the bed with you. A smirk played about his lips as his knee came between yours and separated your legs with a nudge.

“Hell no,” you laughed. “I’ll just have to learn to be quiet.” You smirked at him as he settled between your spread legs. “Want to try out the bed?”

“You read my mind,” he all but purred and leaned down to kiss you.

His cologne hit your nose and sent you spinning. Did he change cologne? No, it smelled like his usual stuff, but something about it made your stomach turn. You put a hand up to stop him before scooting out from under him and going to the tiny bathroom on the bus. You made it to the sink and ran the water as you spat out the little contents that came up from your stomach. After rinsing your mouth out and turning the water off, you looked up to find Copia standing behind you in the mirror. There was concern etched into eyes face as he looked at you.

“Sorry,” you said. “Did you change your cologne?”

“No?” He responded, concern turning to confusion. “It’s the same brand I always use. You said you liked it?”

“And I normally do, but I don’t know it just made my stomach churn today.” 

You wrote it off as nothing to not be concerned about, and by dinner, you forgot all about it. Copia showered after showing you the buses, and you were now resting your head on his bare chest, and the Godfather was playing on his television in his bedroom. You felt tired despite not even doing much earlier in the day, and you noticed your breasts were tender. All signs pointed to your period about to come, and it was another reminder that you were once again not pregnant. 

The days rolled by, and suddenly it was the day before you were leaving. You just came out of a meeting with Sister Imperator about all the arrangements she had set up for you while on tour. Sister gave you a list of Ministry-approved doctors in each city of the tour that you could visit if you needed. She also gave you all the details for your hotel rooms, spa packages, and outings you could do while Copia was rehearsing during the day. She was even willing to spare a ghoul to act as your chaperon, but you declined. You were a grown woman who knew how to take care of yourself.

You didn’t need someone who would report back to Sister. Sister Imperator had no idea that you wouldn’t be sleeping in your assigned rooms or in your assigned bed on the tour bus. The older woman didn’t know that you and Papa were in love, and judging by how she looked at you, it was probably for the best. 

Your mind was on a thousand things at once as you got back to your rooms. Your suitcases were already set by the door, ready to be taken down to the buses that evening. When you walked into your bathroom, you saw the unopened box of tampons on the counter. 

Unopened.

Something clicked in your mind.

Your period never came. You were a week late, according to your tracking app.

You flung open the cabinet under the sink, and in the basket there were several boxes of pregnancy tests. You grabbed a few of the early detection ones and got to work.

The chirping of your phone’s timer a few minutes later brought you out of your stupor. You shook as you walked to your bathroom counter.

All three tests read ‘Pregnant.’ 

You let out a cry, covering your mouth to stop anyone from hearing you if they walked by your rooms. Pregnant! You were going to have a baby.

You had to keep this hidden because if anyone knew, you would not be leaving tomorrow to go with Copia.

Tears slid down your cheeks. You wanted this so desperately, and now you’d have to hide this for… well, for as long as possible. 

You weren’t a fool. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide this for long. At some point, everyone would catch on, and once Sister Imperator and Doctor Miller knew, you’d be sent back to the Ministry at once. 

“Amore? Are you in here?” 

You heard the door to your rooms shut and footsteps before Copia appeared in the open door of the bathroom. He caught sight of the tears on your face and froze.

“Amore, what is it?” 

His eyes slid from your face to the pregnancy test laid out on the counter. You watched as the gears turned in his mind, and when they locked into place, he turned to you with wide eyes.

“You’re pregnant,” he says softly, taking a step closer to you. “You’re pregnant.”

You nod, tears still spilling down your cheeks.

He reached for you gently, wiping the trails of wet from your cheeks. “Why are you crying, tesoro? Are these happy tears?”

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I’m excited and happy, of course I am. I wanted this. You wanted this. We all wanted this…but tour…”

“Ah…” he responded gently, still holding your face. “Tour…you will have to stay behind…”

You nodded. “I don’t want to stay behind…”

“I don’t either,” he said. “But what do we do?”

“Hide it for as long as possible?” You suggest. You gesture down at your body. “I’m not teeny tiny, so I won’t start showing for a few months at least. That will get us through most of the tour at least. Sister Imperator gave me a list of Ministry-approved doctors in every city we’re going to in case I needed anything, so it’s not like we’ll be flying blind if anything happens…” No. You were not going to think about anything happening. You wouldn’t jinx anything. 

“It would be safe, then?” He asked, his hands slipping down from your cheeks to your shoulders and then to your waist. 

“It should be. I have a list of everything I would need to take from the doctor. I could go to the store tonight and get everything and say it was just last-minute stuff, like shampoo, for the tour.”

Copia nodded. “Si, that will work if anyone asks. Okay, we will keep this our little secret.” His lips turned upward in a smile before he kissed you. “We’re going to be parents.”

You burst out into a grin and laughed. “We really are.”

[shadowkoo]

The Ex Text

→ Summary: The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, ex with benefits, minor fluff & angst

→ Warnings: swearing, explicit sex, protected sex, scratching, breast play, spit/saliva play, infidelity (in the case that reader just started dating someone new), soft kissing, soft choking, rough kissing, ball squeezing, fingering, handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, sloppy oral sex (female & male receiving), squirting, praising, teasing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, doggy, deep dicking, posessive!jungkook has a hard time dealing with his feelings

→ Author note: This is an update of a fic I posted in January that desperately needed some editing (anyone else ever read their old fics and cringe??), I hope you enjoy the newest version bc i personally believe it’s so much better! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

The pillow vibrates beneath your head as the notifications on your phone add up. Knowing it’s nowhere near time for you to get up, you roll over, choosing to ignore whatever, or rather, whoever is trying to reach you. Your plan works for another several minutes as you attempt to drift back to sleep, but your phone soon buzzes again, signaling another notification.

You groan and clumsily reach to turn the ringer off, but instead, your curiosity wins. After a couple of slow blinks, your eyes adjust to the blinding light and are able to focus on the screen; a couple of likes on your latest tweet, a new follower request for your insta, and three new texts from ‘The Ex’…

You groan again and check the time. 2 AM.

“Mmm, right on schedule, ‘Kook,” you drone sleepily to yourself, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

Invested now, and unfortunately awake, you unlock your phone to read the full texts.

2:03 AM

‘hey, u awake?’

2:07 AM

‘come over pls’

‘I’ll leave the door open’

Leaving the messages on read, you think about the two ways this could go.

One, you ignore him, just as you have been for the last month, and pretend like he means nothing to you.

Or two, you text him back, agree to come over, and wind up in a self-hate spiral the following days for allowing him to weasel back into your life.

A third groan leaves your body, realizing your heart is clouding your mind, having already made the decision. You type out your message and hover your thumb over the send button, before pressing firmly, unable to take it back.

2:11 AM

‘i hate you…i’ll be there in 5’

His response pops up just seconds later.

‘i’ll be waiting’

This routine is nothing new to you, as much as you hate to say it.

It’s not the first time since your break up that he’s asked you over. And it’s not the first time you’ve rushed to see him, to relive the good times spent between his sheets.

As promised, Jungkook left the door unlocked for you. His tall pup, Bam, meets you with a happy face and a wagging tail the second you crack the door open.

“Hi Bamy-Boo, I’ve missed you so much. How’s my good boy doing?” you ask after stepping into the quiet apartment, bending at the knees to give him a quick kiss on the head and some chin scratches.

“He’d be doing a lot better if you joined him in bed.”

Turning your head, your eyes land on Jungkook. He’s leaning against the wall outside his bedroom, with one of his hands combing through his tousled hair. And he’s wearing the beige-colored sweat set he knows drives you wild.

Damn him.

Your eyes wander to the waistband of his pants, where the faintest patch of skin shows through with his raised arm, before moving upward towards his face.

He’s grinning now.

“We need to stop doing this,” you sigh, not even attempting to deny that you were ogling him. He’s hot, you both know it. No point in sugar-coating or avoiding it. “You can’t keep texting me this time of night and expect me to come over.”

“You can leave any time you want, you know that,” he says taking a step closer to you, “Just like you know you don’t have to text me back. But you do.” He extends a hand, which you accept, and you stand up, letting him pull you up against his chest. “Because you want to come over. Because you know you want this.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second before placing his lips on yours. He’s warm and comforting, smelling of sage and citrus, just like always.

He pulls you away from the front door, which he locks, and leads you towards his room. Even in the dark, you remember the path to his bed, your body has it practically memorized.

“Come here,” he whispers softly while his fingers dance along the edge of your wrinkled pajama shirt, before lifting it over your shoulders.

You didn’t even bother changing out of your stained and slept-in pjs. Jungkook has seen you in far worse conditions. Plus you figured they wouldn’t remain on for very long, and much to your pleasure - you’re right.

Jungkook admires your breasts with his hands once your shirt is on the ground. “You’re gorgeous like this,” he whispers, cupping them and letting his thumbs rub across your nipples. Between his touch and the cool air, they harden almost immediately.

You lean into his body and your lips collide, meanwhile, his arms move around your body, crushing you against his chest.

He moans into your mouth, loving the way your fingers run through his messy hair. He doesn’t hide the fact that his cock twitches against his sweatpants when you tug lightly on his locks.

Jungkook could come in his pants just from simply kissing you and having you play with his hair, but he needs more. So much more.

He reaches for your pants, ready to remove them next. He’s desperate to undress you, to have your naked body pressed up against his. You’ve been ignoring his texts for too long lately. Even though he would never admit it, he’s missed you. A lot.

You help him take off the rest of your clothing until you’re bare before him, and Jungkook looks at you like he’s always looked at you. Like you’re the only person in the universe, you captivate his entire attention.

Nothing else matters when he’s with you.

He tears only his sweatshirt off before sitting down on the bed. Stretching back, he pats his lap with that same old smirk you’ve grown to love and hate simultaneously and motions for you to climb on top of him.

You do as he requests, resting each leg on either side of his hips so you’re straddling his waist.

“Come here,” he says quietly, pulling you closer to him, so he can leave wet kisses trailing down your neck from your earlobe to the dip above your collarbone.

His hands travel down your side as his lips move closer and closer to your breasts, his hot breath tickles your skin as he hovers over your sensitive nubs. He flicks each with his tongue, before closing his lips over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

The sensation pulls an explicit moan from deep within your core. Jungkook’s ears perk up, loving the sounds coming from you, wanting to hear you make sounds like that all night.

Your thighs tense around him as he does it again to the other side, and you massage the growing tent in his sweats to tease him just the right amount.

Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, pushing your bare center up against his hardness as you continue your circling torture. It’s his turn to lose himself. Fuck, he can feel your heat through the thin fabric, your readiness soaking into his sweatpants. His hands curve around the swell of your ass as your tongues twist together in harmony.

Grabbing his face, you kiss him deeply while slowly moving off the top of him, your hand replacing where your opening was previously. You moan into his mouth this time, feeling how hard he is for you as you rub him through his pants.

Your hand dips underneath the waistband and wraps around his velvety length. His length throbs in your hand while your thumb glides over his needy head. You’re stroking him slowly enough to drive him into a maddening frenzy.

“Fuck baby, I need more,” he rasps.

You give him exactly what he begs for.

He cries out when your hand dips lower to squeeze his balls without warning. You smirk, watching the emotions overtake his face as the pain mixes deliciously with pleasure while you hold him tightly in your hands. You wait a few seconds before releasing them and then work to take off his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, catching his breath from your dangerous game. “What was that for?”

You take a mouthful of him to avoid answering. He doesn’t press the issue further as you gag over his thick cock.

Jungkook grabs a fistful of your hair as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. He helplessly watches as your reddened lips glide over him, your saliva dripping everywhere in the process.

“Mmm, just like that,” he hums, caressing your cheek as you bob your head up and down.

Pulling yourself from him to catch your breath, your mouth then leaves wandering kisses that lead you to his balls next. Sucking each into your hollowed cheeks, you take your sweet time and watch intently as Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Shit baby, I’m about to lose it,” he breathes deeply, before moving your bodies so you’re below him.

You smirk, your legs open and ready with your fingers teasing your wet and inviting opening. “Then lose it.”

He groans. Leaning across your body, Jungkook opens the drawer on his nightstand and rummages through until his fingers land on the very familiar foil packet. He smirks for a moment at the thought floating around in his head, and then lets the male urge win and rips it open with his teeth.

“You did not just do that,” you laugh, “That’s so cheesy. What are you, a horny teenager?”

He grins wolfishly as he rolls the condom on, “Might as well be.”

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room, engulfing Jungkook, and making him ravenous for you. He’s starved and only your heat will tame his hunger.

Unable to wait any longer, his thick length dips inside you just enough to wet his tip. He pulls back out of you, sliding your wetness through your folds, preparing you for what is to come. Then, without a moment’s notice, he takes you hard and fast, thrusting into you with all his power.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails from where they slide down his back and grip his ass.

The veins in Jungkook’s neck pop out as he slams into you again and again.

“Holy fuck, ‘Kook! Oh my god,” you cry out, holding onto him.

He looks so fucking hot with his hair stuck to his damp forehead. Your eyes follow the bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jungkook’s soft moans tickle your ear, while one of his hands creeps up to wrap around your neck. The pressure is gentle but firm, his fingers are placed exactly where they need to be to make you feel lightheaded and slightly delirious - everything you want and more.

“Do you still love me?” he pants as he thrusts into you harshly.

You blink, hesitating to answer that question.

“Fine, then answer me this, do you still love my cock?”

“Jungkook…” you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “Please don’t go there.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear you. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands after flipping you over. Pulling your ass up towards him, he realigns his length with your center and thrusts back into you. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gets lost in your hair.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear as he slips out of you, only to ram back into you with all his strength.

Each thrust pushes you further into the bed and brings you closer to the edge. You’re biting the sheets to stop yourself from screaming out from the sinful pleasure.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” You moan uncontrollably while Jungkook continues his sweet torture. Lust, and possibly another L emotion, dripping off the words spilling from your mouth.

You couldn’t lie if you tried at this point. You’ve really missed this and him. And holy fuck, his cock too. “Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Waves of euphoria wash over your quivering body as you unfold around him.

The coil snaps deep inside you, your walls pulsating around him, sending shockwaves through his body as he finishes.

Jungkook moans your name one last time before feeling himself swell, and he fills the condom with his load. His thrusts slow down but don’t stop just yet.

It’s almost too much to handle, yet it’s still not enough. Jungkook knows this and reaches down to rub his thumb along your swollen clit, causing you to see starts as your next release comes, it sprays out of you involuntarily.

You freeze, not sure if you should embrace it or be embarrassed.

He grins, “That was fucking hot. I’ve never made anyone squirt before.” You feel a sense of pride hearing that. Good. You don’t want him to have it like this with anyone else. Woah, where did that thought come from?

Without missing a beat, Jungkook lifts your legs over his shoulders as he bends down so he’s face level with your heat. He admires your slit that’s still slick from his undoing. You moan uncontrollably the second he licks through your damp folds, lost on cloud nine while he buries his face in between your legs, hands on either side of them, holding you in place.

You’re writhing beneath him from the glorious torture of his tongue teasing your entrance, his nose purposefully rubs against your sensitive nub and two of his long fingers slide into you, curling at the right pace.

His rhythmic licks turn you into a quivering mess. Your insides twist and clench around his fingers as you come again, unashamed and all over his face this time.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, moving back up toward the top of the bed and collapsing next to you, totally spent.

You kiss him messily, tasting yourself on his lips, and cuddle into his side as you both drift off into the night, sweaty and exhausted, just how it should be.

It’s early. You’re not sure how long you’ve both been in and out of sleep, but you know it’s almost time for you to leave. This is the longest you’ve spent in his bed since your break up. All the other late-night extravaganzas we’re just a couple of hours, if that.

You’re laying on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat and your synced breathing, working up the energy to sit up. His fingers draw small circles on your back as you two rest. It’s surprisingly…peaceful. These are the moments you miss the most when you’re apart.

“I have a thing with the guys around tomorrow, well technically today. Want to come?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Can’t,” you decline, worried about where this conversation is about to go.

“And why is that, exactly?” he asks, even though he very well knows. You know he knows. He knows that you know that he knows. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

The previous peace you felt is short-lived. You sit up and lean on your elbow to look at him. “You know I’m going out with Taehyung now. You liked my Instagram pic of us together from earlier this week.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that if you’re here with me, that must mean he’s either very boring or is terrible in bed. Or maybe both?” He leaves the question open-ended for you to answer.

You roll your eyes and start to get up, not in the mood to discuss this with him tonight, or ever really.

You don’t need to explain to him that Taehyung deserves so much more than someone who’s willing to cheat on him, and with an ex-boyfriend at that. You two haven’t exactly made things official but it’s still unbelievably inconsiderate of you to waste his time while you pine after Jungkook, a guy who dumped you four months ago but still refuses to give you up.

“No, don’t go,” he groans. “What I’m trying to say is-” he pauses, fighting whatever is going on in his brain. “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” he says bluntly.

“Why?” You press, begging for any sort of answer.

“‘Cause…,” he says, holding back.

“Because why Jungkook, I need you to say more than that. I need you to be more, we can’t keep going on like this.”

“Because I love you, dammit!” He runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “Can’t you tell? Isn’t it obvious? I’m still hung up on you and don’t like seeing you moving on when I’m, I’m…stuck,” he breathes.

He loves you.

A moment passes.

He. Loves. You.

“Please say something. Anything.” He’s nervously searching your face for any sort of answer.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’re still hung up on me,” he whines, pulling you back onto his chest.

Your voice softens, “You know that I am.”

He kisses you gently, making your heart flutter with the possibility.

“Then what’s stopping us?” He asks once your lips part from one another.

It’s your turn to huff, you have so much to say yet it’s all lost on you at this exact moment. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

“You’re the one who ended things.”

The streetlight shines in through his window, its light illuminating your body, highlighting your beautiful features that he just can’t get enough of. Why did he end things again?

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. What’s new?” he jokes, crawling over top of you, completely mesmerized by how gorgeous you are beneath him. He kisses you sweetly, his lips massaging yours as his heart pounds loudly in his chest. You didn’t say no. To Jungkook, that means there’s still a chance, and he’ll gladly take it.

One of his hands holds the back of your neck, tilting your head just the right amount for him to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth, his tongue playing with yours while his other hand finds its way between your legs.

A soft gasp escapes your lips when his fingers dip inside you. They twist and curl with perfect accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to bliss.

He has you practically begging for more, you’re already a panting mess. You reach for him, craving more, needing him closer but he refuses.

“Nope,” he grins playfully, pushing your chest gently so you lay back onto the bed, “I want to watch you come undone this time. I want to see you lose it when you come for me.”

Your back arches off the bed as you dance along the edge, squeezing your eyes shut you let his words do their magic.

“Be a good girl and come all over these fingers.” Your hips move helplessly, matching his speed as you chase the high.

“You’re luminous, absolutely divine, and all mine. Nobody can worship you as I do. Nobody else can make you feel this good.”

“No one compares to you,” you moan sensually as pleasure overtakes your body yet again, turning you into the mess he wants to see.

Your lips touch again after what feels like an eternity. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, leaving another lazy kiss on your cheek, before moving to clean up the aftermath of your pleasures.

“Me too,” you say sleepily, pulling him back into your arms after he disposed of the condom. You feel yourself drifting off, about to fall into a soft slumber with your bodies entwined.

Jungkook grins, knowing he’s one step closer to convincing you to try again. He kisses you softly, lovingly, one more time before you both drift off into the early morning light.

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[cervidaewasteland]

Hello!

If you want to write about it : her being a cowriter on a couple of his songs, and he's a big fan of her work. They've worked together for a couple years maybe? And now he wants to see what she has been writing lately, but she doesn't want to because they're all desperate love songs about him 🤧

Please and thank you

Love!

Do I Wanna Know?

A/N: this was not proofread and written over the course of a couple months so if there are typos and inconsistencies I sincerely apologize. I hope I did this justice!! atp i'm just trying to get requests finished and posted lol

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1,638

It started with a text.

You hadn’t spoken to Andrew in months. Despite you having worked together for years and years now, you didn't exactly hang out much outside of that. You’d occasionally catch up, but never alone, always with his friends or yours. Which you were completely alright with. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was late at night. Later than anyone should be awake. You knew he was in town for some show or get together or whatever else, but you hadn’t reached out. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to. I mean, the last time you’d spoken was for work, and he hadn’t responded to your last message, so you assumed he wanted to keep it professional. But then, past midnight while you were up jotting something down on the notepad next to your bed, your phone buzzed. At first, you ignored it, assuming it was an email about the single you’d recently released or a comment form a fan or one of the millions of other mundane things it could be. Something compelled you to check though. So you set down your notepad and you grabbed your phone, only to be met with a message from Andrew. 

Andy: I don’t know if you heard I was in town. I was hoping you’d want to catch up

It was simple, and honestly made you feel a little horrible about not reaching out to him, but it cracked the dam inside you. Part of you was ecstatic that he wanted to see you, but the other part—the part that had spent your last meeting stealing glances and blushing at accidental touches—feared that this was a bad idea. You were better off keeping your relationship professional. It was just work, and you like it that way. 

So naturally you texted him back. 

You: I’d love to. We could go to that Cafe downtown, if you want?

Andy: Why don’t you come to the studio instead? I’d like your opinion on the stuff I’ve been working on

You paused. You were entirely sure this definitely was a terrible idea. Being alone with him? After you had spent the last six months wallowing in self pity? After the silly crush that had formed itself in your heart had had time to fester? 

You: That would be great. I’m free most of the week. whenever you have time is fine with me

Andy: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at three

And so you spent the rest of the night furiously writing, hoping to get all your feelings out before three came so as to not embarrass yourself. Unfortunately, this meant a severe lack of proper sleep, and you only ended up going to bed at five in the morning. You hoped, as you laid down, that you wouldn’t sleep through your alarm and miss your chance at a reconnection. 

At three in the afternoon, you were not awake. You were not woken by your alarm, either. In fact, you were woken by a knock at the door, just loud enough to startle you out of the dream you’d been having. You quickly sit up, glancing at the clock on the nightstand and letting out a curse. It had to be Andrew. Who else would be knocking on your door? 

“One second!” You yelled, quickly grabbing your discarded pajamas and rushing to answer the door. You unlocked and opened it as quickly as you could, mind racing. You were late. Not even late, in fact. you hadn’t even woken up on time. Already, your day was off to a shoddy start. 

Andrew was stood in the hallway of the apartment building, wringing his hands together, looking all too nervous and jumpy. His eyes widened when he saw you. “Did I wake you?”

“Uh… yeah. I’m so sorry, Andrew, really. Uhm- come in.” You stepped aside to let him in. Hesitantly, he followed you into the apartment, eyes tracking you as you rushed back to your room to get dressed. Embarrassment coursed through your veins, your face red and warm as you pulled a sweater on and changed into a pair of jeans. You fumbled with your laces as you got your shoes tied, grabbing your bag and jogging back out to the living room. When you looked up at Andrew, a sense of dread washed over you. 

He was standing near the dining table, your journal in his hands, looking all too interested in what he was reading. Without thinking, you grab it from him, tossing it back on the table. “What are you doing?”

He stares at you for a second, cheeks flushed, looking entirely too smug. “Just reading. I figured you’d show me some of your work later anyway, I didn’t think you’d mind. But those seemed awfully-”

“Shut up!” Your face was burning, embarrassment settling itself in your stomach. Hands shaking, you tugged on the sleeves of your sweater, looking down, almost ashamed. “You didn’t- why would you read my journal without asking?” 

Andrew’s expression changed, shifting from playful to remorseful and guilty. He reached out to touch your arm, leaning down slightly in an attempt to meet your eyes. “I… ehm… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right of me.” He straightened back up, wringing his hands together. “Should I go?”

You look up quickly, reaching out to grab his hand. “Don’t go. I still want to go to the studio.”

He nodded and squeezed your hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The ride to the studio was awkward. You both sat in silence, your eyes fixed out the window, your position stiff and unmoving. Andrew’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, not looking away from the road for even a second. When you got to the studio, though, both of you seemed more at ease, and Andrew began on a rant about his recent works, even playing a few melodies to see how you liked them. By the end of the night, you had both nearly forgotten about the events of that morning. 

Nearly. 

Andrew set his guitar down, relaxing back on the chair he was sitting on, staring at you for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “You know, I was hoping you’d play something for me. A few notes, at least. The lyrics in your journal, they were… they were really nice.” 

Your face burned. You looked down, hands folded in your lap. “I don’t want to talk about it, Andrew. Please?”

He shifted slightly in his chair, sitting up straight now. You still didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have read it.” He paused, letting out a sigh. “I just- please, will you play something? Work with me here.”

You contemplated for a moment, weighing your options. You’d rather not be forced to confess your affections for him out loud, but if that’s what it would take to shut him up about it, then what choice did you have? With a shaky breath, you reached over and grabbed his guitar, trying to get sed to the feeling of it in your hands as you recalled the chords you’d been experimenting with. 

You didn’t play for very long. Ten minutes, at the most, a few lyrics sung under your breath, but Andrew stayed quiet the whole time. He didn’t look directly at you, which you appreciated, staring instead at the wall in front of him, lost in thought. When you finally did stop, he looked up, a grin on his face. 

“That was grand. You really are such a talent.” He reached over and grabbed both your hands in his, squeezing them tight. “I really don’t know why you were so hesitant. Were you scared I wouldn’t like it or something? I’ve always liked your stuff.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. He couldn’t seriously be that oblivious. Could he?

“I only wish I could hear about the man who’s so clearly caught your affections. You never seemed the dating type.”

Maybe he could.

“Andrew,” you breathe out. “Are you serious?”

He furrowed his brow, sitting up slightly, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. “What?”

“I- oh my lord, you’re such an idiot.” You let go of his hands, leaning back in your chair, leaving him still looking incredibly confused. 

“What?” 

His bewilderment was enough to make you laugh. In between giggles, he continued to question you, your fit of giggles growing worse by the second. Eventually, you were able to catch your breath, running a hand over your face. 

“It’s you, you dork. The songs are about you. Did you seriously not get that?” 

He went quiet, and so did you. Your confidence caught up to you, and you suddenly realized the weight of what you’d just said. You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could speak, his mouth was on yours. You let out a noise of surprise, grabbing his face, pulling away. 

“Andrew, what the hell!?” You panted out. He just looked at you, wide-eyed and flustered. 

“I- I’m sorry. I feel the same way. I wasn’t sure…. I didn’t want to assume anything. I just thought-”

And then it was you who kissed him, partially just to stop his rambling. It lasted longer this time, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, both of you getting entirely too into it—which, in turn, caused you to lose your balance and topple off the chair you had been sitting on. Andrew followed right after, just barely able to catch himself before landing on top of you. Both of you began to laugh, ending up breathless and flushed on the floor next to each other. 

You glanced over to him, still breathing heavily. “Andrew?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you.”

He hummed, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him. “Love you too.”

Masterlist

[izzyssurfcheese]

how did cassandra clare's books save your life 🎤🎤🎤🎤

Sorry I’ve been on vacation with spotty internet connection.

So basically. It went like this:

Several years ago, I was in a relationship with an avoidantly attached person (pro-tip: don’t) and this person would do this really mean thing where they starved me of affection for weeks at a time, until I was ready to end things. Then they would flood me with attention and convince me to stay.

Fun fact: this technique is called “hot and cold” and it’s been used in war as a torture method. If you do this to someone, you are being mean, bordering on torture.

This person watched me, over the course of two years, go from a securely attached partner, to remarkably anxious one, as a result of the constant emotional roller coaster, and never having support when I needed it, and constantly giving to the other person.

I became severely depressed. I felt that I couldn’t leave - and in that headspace, I really couldn’t.

This person often insinuated that there was something wrong with me,

ie: you are depressed, therefore something is wrong with you, not the situation;

and because they were the person I trusted most I believed them.

So I went to my doctor, and he prescribed me antidepressants.

The antidepressant, “worked”(?) for me, by stopping me from being able to feel anything at all. No emotions whatsoever.

Which actually felt, really amazing at first. (I know how that sounds, just hear me out.)

In six months, I went from being so depressed I wouldn’t eat for days at a time, spent days in bed, and showering very sporadically, to being able to make and keep appointments.

Often pre-antidepressant - I would be driving somewhere, and feel so depressed that I couldn’t find a reason to actually get where I was needed to, and I would just pull over, turn off my car, and stare straight ahead, at nothing, for hours. (I had never done that prior to meeting this partner)

No motivation to go home, no motivation to go anywhere.

Needless to say, I felt absolutely awful at all times, like the world was this brown mud, and I was drowning in it, and there was no escape.

And then when I started the antidepressant, most of that started actually going away.

I didn’t notice at first that I was also unable to feel compassion, or joy, or happiness.

The medicine worked as a sort of gradient, it wasn’t like I woke up completely emotionless one day, it was more like after three months I noticed.

By the time I noticed that I didn’t have emotions at all anymore, I just didn’t care. I didn’t feel shocked, or scared or worried, because all of those are emotions that I didn’t have.

I knew what happened to me, and I knew that the old-me would have been upset, but mostly, I just kept on with life. I ran the numbers and I was more productive without emotions, and as a bonus, I didn’t feel awful anymore. In my (new) book, that was a win.

There was one, huge benefit to not having emotions though that I am still grateful for:

I was finally able to dump that awful boyfriend.

When he tried to manipulate me into staying with his normal dance - [redacted because who needs to be bummed out?]

I just did not care.

I ran the numbers on how much good he was bringing to my life, and how much bad, and he came up staggeringly negative, so I dumped him.

These days, I feel 7% bad about it. While he was profoundly avoidantly attached - and an awful partner - I can see post breakup that he did love me in his own way, and I’ve genuinely never seen another human being break, the way he broke for me once he realized he couldn’t win me back.

I was done sacrificing my whole life for an ounce of affection from him.

But once I dumped him, my life still didn’t really change, because I still couldn’t feel anything.

Fun fact: without emotions, the entire world, just becomes one, big, math problem.

After about a year of being single and emotionless, the sheer boredom of life had really set in. I started thinking about my past, and what I used to like, and I remembered Cassandra Clare’s books.

So I opened my library app, and started re-listening to the audiobooks.

Although I couldn’t feel emotions anymore, I could remember what it was like.

Since that was the closest thing I had, I used it.

Re-listening to Clary and Jace fall in love reminded me of everything I used to be excited about. What I felt in middle school at the time I read them, what I thought romance could feel like, etc.

But most importantly, her books reminded me:

That caring about something isn’t supposed to make you feel worthless.

That you should feel confident that your partner wants to be around you, and that a good partner will listen to you, respect you, and stop when the vibes say stop.

But the book that saved my life, was QoAaD.

When Julian removes his emotions to furlough the effects of the parabati curse, I immediately recognized myself.

P.S. Cassandra Clare nailed the experience of not having emotions.

The book explained to me, in a way that I could understand at the time, why it’s important to have emotions, and all that we lose without them.

When the Seeliee queen says to Julian “you are in the cage” I started to genuinely consider life without the antidepressants.

I knew that I didn’t feel anything because of the medicine, but the idea of going back to being that level of depressed, was daunting. I didn’t know what I would face on the other side.

But seeing Julian have the courage to get his back and that it was worth the struggle, even when the emotions were unpleasant, gave me the courage to try.

So for the first time in two years, I went back to my doctor, and told him I wanted to look at stepping down the medication.

We came up with a plan to do so, and it took about a year 6-7 months to step down safely.

I didn’t notice any change whatsoever, until the final step down, from a teeny tiny dose, to zero.

And about two weeks after my last dose, it was like a dam broke.

What I thought has been an absence of emotions, turned out to be just a wall. Everything from the last two years came flooding at me, and it stayed like that for about two weeks.

After a very rough re-entry, I felt, like myself again, like I hadn’t in years.

Things like hugging my mom had meaning again.

I would walk outside and see butterflies and it actually felt nice.

I cared about people, and myself, and sunlight, and summer, and winter, and swimming.

And it wasn’t perfect, or all nice, but it was remarkably, my life.

And I felt grateful to have it, after losing it for so long.

Ever since then I have felt profoundly fond of her books, for giving me back what I had lost.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Love and War III

Summary: Trapped within the Illyrian War Camp, Reader must decide the best course of action to get home, even if it means trying to seduce the enemy

Content Warnings: Mentions of Past Abuse, Descriptions of Scars/Blood, Canon Typical Violence; NSFW (a little bit of SMUT, just a tease 😈) at the end.

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

__________________

I can’t sleep.

It’s not because my enemy sleeps with his back to me, inches away, only a couple of furs and pelts between us, though it certainly doesn’t help. All night, staring at the tent wall, the strange patterns etched into the dark leather, the images of my parents, my brother, my people, flash behind my eyes every time I close them. I can hear Tamlin calling me a traitor; hear my parents final, dying screams. They are gone and the male that killed them sleeps inches from me. 

My dagger is next to my boots near the edge of the bed. Several times over the last couple of hours I’ve debated on crawling for it, imagining the heavy feel of it in my palm before I drive it between Rhysand’s shoulder blades and pierce his heart. I have never killed anything but game before, it’s the specifics and all their complications that stop me. What if I miss and he wakes up? What if I manage it but can’t get past the ward, condemning me to the mercy of his entire camp? And worse yet, what if it is not enough for Tamlin to take me back?

I chew my lower lip as I roll over onto my back. I know he would do just about anything to have Rhysand’s head delivered to him on a platter, or at the very least, those great wings to keep as a trophy. But killing a warlord doesn’t remove the threat of his camp, shy of slaughtering every last male, women, and child here, there would always be a chance of retaliation. A new lord would take his place if there was so much as a single survivor, and the bloodshed would start all over again, even if it took a few decades to get to that point.

No, my people deserve peace, to not have to look over their shoulder every day expecting an ambush. I would not live to see any children I might have, grown and subject to the cruelty of this war band. I would not birth anything into a world where my pain could be their own. So killing him is out of the question, at least for now. 

So what can I bring in lew of that? Camp movements? Numbers? Do I try to steal some horses or resort to outright sabotage so that someone else is always to blame when things go wrong? 

My head hurts from all the questions. 

My chest hurts from all the things I know I might have to do. My mother would be ashamed of me. And yet, I hear my father’s voice, telling me to stop being so useless and do something. He tells me I am selfish for hesitating, stupid for not seeing the opportunities in front of me.

I roll over onto my side so I can get another look at the male who claims to be my mate, the male who ruined my life. He’d brought me more food than I’d seen in years last night, had stumbled through the most awkward conversation of my life before offering the whole bed to myself if I was uncomfortable having him near by. An insane notion really, the bed was big enough for us to sleep in without being in arm’s length of each other. Even then, he’d wrapped his wings around himself and slept on the opposite edge, never once rolling any closer, even in sleep. It was an awkward kindness, but a kindness I had not prepared to face. I had spent the better part of the evening with him wondering how I’d deter him from trying to sleep with me, since he’d been so casual with touching me earlier in the day, but it had never come up. Maybe today it would, but for now, he had not entirely made himself as bad as I remembered him to be.

Again, it is my father’s voice in my head, “He’s a male, there’s a clear way to get him to reveal his secrets.” 

He is a dangerously attractive male. I have to admit I’m surprised he has not taken after many of the other warlords and formed a harem of captive brides. Between his power and his looks, he could have had dozens of wives already, yet this tent is void of any feminine objects to imply he’s anything other than single. He would not be hard to seduce, he is already so eager to have me nearby.

I roll over onto my stomach, trying not to huff my annoyance. It is not as if I’m some blushing virgin, I wouldn’t be giving anything over to him that I hadn’t already offered, in secret, to other males. He’d be the most attractive male I’d ever bedded, at that. I shouldn’t need that much convincing, or alcohol, to tumble into the sheets with him. Especially if it means he lets his guard down and tells me something useful. Especially if the distraction keeps him from thinking about asking me to take his mark again. What need for it would there truly be if I’d already surrendered myself to him?

Yet, my stomach rolls at the mere thought of it. Those hands had shed my peoples’, my parents’, blood! In a matter of minutes, those hands had stolen the only security and safety I had ever known, and I haven’t felt a shred of it since, and I was going to let them touch me?

A shiver runs down my spine. No, there has to be another way to get information out of him without trying to seduce him.

I lay there, mind spinning, as soft gray light starts to filter in through the small gap underneath the tent. Rhysand will have to leave me alone in here eventually, I will just have to wait for the right opportunity to start snooping through his stuff and then maybe a better plan will come to me. Perhaps something in one of those stacks of untouched chests in the corner will reveal a weakness I can exploit, some hidden secret I can use to my advantage. I have to hope they hold something, I have little options otherwise.

With that plan in place, I finally close my eyes, and try to let sleep fill the void. No amount of worrying will make him up and leave this early in the morning, there is little else I can do at this moment other than sleep. But it’s not even a full minute after I close my eyes that the tent flap is tossed open, the stiff leather slapping so hard against the wall Rhysand springs up with a dagger in hand, wings flaring behind him, so large they nearly span the expanse of the tent.

“We have a…” I feel eyes on me, over Rhysand’s shoulder, as I sit up, “situation.”

Rhysand lowers the dagger to his side, hand shaking, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping it. Strange, did he often expect to be attacked in his own tent?

“Ready the men,” he orders and the intruders withdraw before I can get a good look at them.

He smooths a hand through his hair, loose now from the knot it had been tied on, the braided strands drifting over his sharp cheekbones. His wings droop until they’re dusting the floor, like a giant leather cape. “You’ll stay in here,” he says, voice still thick with sleep. Dark circles rim his eyes and I can’t help but wonder if I was the only one drowning in my thoughts last night.

I nod, biting down on my cheek to keep the grin pulling at my lips away. Perhaps the Mother is looking out for me after all! This is just the opportunity I need! “You…” I need to play it safe, sounding too submissive too early might get suspicious. I don’t want him to think I’ve so readily accepted this arrangement, but I don’t want him thinking I’m going to try and run off either. I let the words come out slowly, like I’m unsure to say them. “You don’t want me to come with you, like you said yesterday?”

He rubs a hand over his face as he goes to a chest at the edge of the bed and starts pulling out his fighting leathers. “Not yet, not until you’ve taken my mark and I can guarantee it’ll protect you.”

Shit! I need him to stop thinking so much about that stupid mark.

He peels off his shirt, the early morning light coming through the open door illuminating the swirl of dark ink tattooed across his bare chest. I’d been too panicked about our sleeping arrangements to get a good look at him when he’d changed last night, or else I also would have seen the scar across his side, the four lines like claw marks across his bronze skin. There are other, smaller marks, a burn on his hip, a jagged slash across his collarbone, but none are so pronounced as the claw marks. 

My hand goes instinctively to my own side. I know those claw marks. I know how they scar, because I have the same ones on my side. “Stupid, useless girl!” I know them, because like the voice that keeps ringing in my ears, they came from my father.

I don’t know if that’s a sign of what I need to do, as if, even in death my father’s will is still forcing itself on my life, or some cruel twist, like the matching stars on the back of our hands.

“Are you all right?” Rhysand asks.

By the time I’m able to focus on him again, he’s already laced up his leathers and sheathed that massive sword between his wings. I give myself a little shake, let my hand fall back down into my lap. “Yeah.”

Like last night, he looks like he might say more, but then thinks better of it as he tightens a belt of knives around his waist. “Stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll be back soon.” And then he’s gone. 

I stare out the empty door long after his large form is no longer visible, sunlight slowly creeping further and further into the tent’s cave-like darkness. No guards. I eventually crawl out from under the mountain of pelts, the lack of heat obvious as a draft of icy wind blows through the open door. I wrap one around my shoulders as I pad, barefoot, over the rug covered floor to the door. The encampment around me still slumbers, no drum beats to be heard this early. Some of the other tents nearby have their doors open, I glimpse a body or two still sleeping in their own fur covered beds. No guards. No horses. Beyond the camp, the mountain walls of this secluded haven are dusted with early morning mist, the path the men had taken out invisible from this angle.

I do not want to trek through those mountains on foot and see just how well the shield holds up, not yet anyway. Holding the fur a little tighter around my shoulders, I turn back to the tent and decide the best place to start snooping is here. The outside world can wait a few more minutes. 

I go to the chest at the end of the bed first. It’s full of more fighting leathers, some worn and battle scarred, some shiny and new; an old pair of boots, some mismatched socks, another cloak and two, pitted daggers, the wyvern carving in the handle worn down from years and years of use. Nothing interesting or useful. I close the lid and head to the table to assess the piles of random collections Rhysand has made. It’s a lot of books on strategy and star-charting, I flip through a couple of them, looking for things written in the margins or scraps of paper tucked within the worn pages, but there is nothing but dust. 

“Come on,” I whisper to myself as I move to the next stack. There’s a book of poetry and things written in Illyrian I can’t read, the only thing in the margins of the old paper is some random swirls and markings that match the tattoos on his chest. If I have to learn Illyrian just to find useful information, I am going to be here for years, and there’s no way I’d make it that long without being forced to take Rhysand’s mark.

The remaining scattered items on the table are trinkets and gloves and a couple scarves with stains that look suspiciously like blood. Not a map or log book among them. Does he not keep records of his fighting men? Does he not chart supply lines and keep tabs on his merchants? 

I rub my temples as I go to the stack of dust covered chests in the corner. This might make it obvious that I was snooping, considering the dust is thick enough to be drawn in, but if he asks, I can lie and say I was looking for extra clothes, considering I’m still wearing the clothes I came in. 

The top chest is filled to the brim with swords and knives, a couple of bows and arrows, and a wicked looking mace. All well polished and cared for, the blades carefully wrapped as not to be damaged in transit. I pull a knife out to examine it, the ruby in the top casting rays of light over the tent walls. It’s an expensive weapon… if I start collecting enough things, could I find a place to barter them and bring the money back to Tam? Mother knows we could use the extra cash for supplies!

I put the blade back. If I start stashing things now, I’ll have nowhere to hide them and nowhere to take them until I can be sure that I can get out of these mountains, but it is comforting to feel like I have options here. The more things I can bring back, the better my chances at appeasing Tamlin are.

I’ve just closed the lid when someone clears their throat behind me and I all but throw the pelt around my shoulders at them in surprise.

“Snooping are we?” Laughs a feminine voice.

I keep a hand pressed to my racing heart, even as I inch over to where I’d left my hunting dagger. “Mother’s tits!”

In the doorway, stands a blonde female, her hair braided and tossed over one, bare shoulder. The strapless red top she wears, made of lace, baring just a strip of midriff and a swirl of ink, disappearing over the hem of a flowing skirt stitched in gold thread, must be expensive. I’ve never seen anything like it in our markets; I’d never dare touch it even if we had. I hate the spike of envy that bubbles up in my chest. I’ve never particularly cared about such things, not when the comparison wasn’t so in my face every moment. How was it fair? These people took so much from us, and yet they faced no punishment, it was starting to feel like they’d been rewarded for it even.

“Don’t worry, I’d snoop too,” she says as she steps in, holding a tray of something steaming that smells divine. “I’m Mor, by the way.”

“Hi,” I’m not totally beyond pleasantries, even if I do feel like biting the next stranger to come marching into my life as if they have free reign. “I’m Y/N.”

“My cousin says you’re his mate, is that true?” She sets the tray down then sits and puts her feet up on the corner of the table, sprinkling mud everywhere. 

“I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t want it to be true, but this is a chance to do something for my people, and I’ll play that part best I can, but it would feel fake if I just suddenly pretended to believe it after my comments on the way here. Better to play it safe.

Mor pats an empty seat next to her in invitation, or perhaps demand, there is a regality to her that doesn’t make me feel I have room to tell her no. I am used to people moving me wherever they see fit, my feet start moving as directed before I can decide that I actually want to. “Show me this scar of yours.”

I sit and offer my hand. Hers are soft as she inspects the eight point scar atop my hand, not a callus to be felt. Definitely some form of royalty. 

“How did you get this?” She asks, turning my hand this way and that to get a better look, as if I’m a piece of meat at the market in need of inspecting. 

I bite my cheek to keep from yanking my hand out of her grip. “I was young and stupid, and my father had sent me out to hunt as a punishment, I stumbled into the Middle, and came across the Weaver. When I tried to escape, she threw a hot poker at me, the end was shaped like a star, I guess. She basically branded me.”

“You fought the Weaver?” A mythical monster, no one really knows where she came from, all we know is she lives in the Middle, in a place where other monsters hunt, in a cottage dripping in dark magic known to lewer in weary travelers, as I had been.

“Fought? Goddess no! Played a very terrifying game of cat and mouse, yes.”

“I’m sure your father was proud of such an accomplishment,” she says as she finally releases my hand and pushes a tray of steaming buns, meats and cheeses, and what looks like tea my way. 

My hand drifts over my scarred side subconsciously, and I do not miss the way her blue eyes track the movement, even as I blurt, “Yeah the beating I got when I got home was a little shorter than usual.”

She drops her legs off the table so she can turn and look at me fully and I wince as I realize my mistake. “My father is like that too,” Mor confesses with startling gentleness.

I’m even more surprised when she reaches out to take my hand, not to inspect this time but to comfort me over our shared past. My chest tightens; a lump forming in my throat. My father was not the worst male in the Grasslands by any means, he kept us all fed and alive, and sheltered for the most part, but he was never kind. 

Mor gives my hand a squeeze. “You are safe here, Y/N. I promise. Rhys won’t give you any trouble.”

I’m supposed to hate her. She is a part of this warband, she answers to Rhysand, she bears his mark--a swirl of stars across her right arm--she is my enemy. I aim to steal all her secrets and use them against her, to take from her all the luxuries my people were never afforded, a life we were never blessed to live. We have nothing! They had everything because they took it. And I wanted to take it from them, from her. So why, when I looked into her eyes did I suddenly feel so godsdamned guilty?

When I don’t say anything, Mor pushes my plate towards me again. “Eat. You’re thin as a board. Then maybe later, I can show you around camp? I’m sure my cousin will give you his tour or whatever, but it’s never the same without a girls’ perspective, right?”

I snag the tea, hoping the heat will burn away the lump still lodged in my throat. Why is she being so nice to me? These people are not supposed to be nice! They’re supposed to be cruel! They’re supposed to be evil, ruthless monsters! 

“That sounds like fun,” I say, the words as bitter as acid. I am a terrible person. She is genuine and kind and going out of her way to be nice to me and I intend to manipulate all of that.

Mor grins as she walks back to the door. “Holler if you need anything, ok? My tent is just down the way.”

“Thanks,” I say as I reach for a warm, sticky bun. It’s so sweet and gooey in the center and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so good in my life, yet, when I swallow, it might as well be sand. What have I gotten myself into? What kind of monster am I if I do this?

I set the bun back down on the tray and put my head in my hands. If I do this, am I just as bad as Rhysand?

------

Rhysand doesn’t come back until nightfall. Mor had come by hours ago with a tray for dinner, and had stayed for over an hour, talking about a lot of nothing, just to keep me company. I found out that she’s married to someone named Cassian, though she confessed after a bit of wine that Rhysand had orchestrated the union to get her away from her father, and that neither of them cared for each other in that way. It served the both of them to have the title, and while they shared a tent, there was little more than friendship between them. She’s very talkative, even with the smallest bit of wine, not that I minded, after several hours alone with my thoughts, it was nice to have something else to think about other than how I might sell my soul to get out of here. By the time she’d left and I’d made myself comfortable in the massive bed, I could only faintly make out the sounds of hoofbeats in the distance.

I’d be a liar if I said my heart rate doesn’t spike at the sound.

It isn’t like I was still snooping through his stuff--truth be told I’d forgotten there was still stuff to look through--but I sit up in a panic all the same, trying to figure out where I need to be to look the most innocent. Had I left anything out of place? 

I’m about to jump out of bed and double check the locks on the chests when Rhysand stalks back into the tent, completely covered in blood.

I can’t do anything other than stare, unsure if the blood dripping from his hair and down his face is from the gash across his temple or the gore that looks like it had been hurled at the left side of his head, chunks of something clinging to his ear.

There’s a small area behind the bed with a basin of water and some clean towels and he goes right to it, tearing off the leather gauntlets at his wrists and then his very damaged chest piece. Both make a heavy thwack as they hit the rug, a puddle forming beneath them. 

“Are-are you ok?” There are too many questions in my head, this one slips out first as I twist to look at him over the headboard of the bed. 

He winces as he pokes at the cut on his temple, “Fine,” is all I get before he cups water in his hands and does his best to clean the gore off his face. He’s making a mess. I’m tempted to crawl out of bed and throw a towel on the floor to spare the rug from damage, but the shadows that drift from his skin make me think better of it. 

Powers aren’t rare, especially among warlords, most of the fae need them to survive this barbaric society we live in, but I’ve never met anyone with such an obvious manifestation of them. Shadows trail off his shoulders, over his wings, twining around his powerful thighs. I can almost taste the darkness that leaks from him, even with the space between us. It is palpable and tangible and tied to his anger. A button I don’t want to push in any way. I sink a little lower into the mattress, using the headboard as a shield, just in case. 

“What happened?” I ask softly. 

He yanks a towel off the little drying rack next to the basin so hard it snaps like a whip and I flinch a little involuntarily. “We got ambushed.” He wets the towel and starts running it over his hair. When he unties the braids in the back, clumps of gore fall to the floor. “My sentinels spotted some enemy scouts this morning, when we followed them back, they led us right into a trap.”

Please don’t be Tamlin. Please don’t be Tamlin. “Did you find out who it was?”

“I have my suspicions,” he tosses the ruined towel on a floor and reaches for another to wipe off his arms and chest. “But none of them were marked.”

Not typically my brother’s style, but I can’t be totally sure. My anxiety sits like a weight in my stomach. “Any casualties?” 

“None of mine,” he growls. “Just some scrapes. Even unprepared, my men are lethal.”

Not as reassuring as I assume he thinks it is.

“We brought a few survivors back, I’ll know who sent them by morning at the latest.”

If I can get a good look at them, I can know for sure they’re not Tam’s men… “What will you do with them?”

He starts untying the laces of his pants and I hurriedly turn away, a blush creeping up my cheeks. I know he thinks we’re mates, but Cauldron have a little decency!

“Azriel will get the information I need out of them,” he says and I hear the sound of his boots and pants hitting the floor. “And then I will make an example out of them.”

It’s suddenly colder in here than it was a moment ago. I grab a pelt and pull it up to my chin as I draw my knees up to my chest.

There’s a beat, the only sound the scraping of a towel over his skin, and then I’m suddenly very aware of his presence at my back, his shadow looming over me. I sink a little deeper into the mattress, heart in my throat.

“This bothers you?” He asks quietly.

I’m glad there’s a thick layer of wood between us, it means I still have time to reach for my knife. “I-” Mother’s Tits what am I supposed to say?! It’s not like it matters, and maybe I could spin it to fit the narrative I need him to see in me, but the words escape me. No one has ever asked me what I think of the senseless violence that has plagued us since Hybern destroyed the world. Regardless of our boundary lines and markings, we all kill and maim each other to survive; we bleed and die and force others to do the same all for the slightest chance that we might escape that fate one more day. And I hate it! I’ve always hated it. I clung to my parents’ stories of better worlds because I’d wanted so desperately to be in one. 

“I don’t like violence,” I whisper. The first unaltered truth I’ve given him; the only unaltered truth I’ll give him.

He leans against the headboard, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “I don’t either,” Rhysand confesses.

I almost laugh. Death Incarnate hates violence? But when I tilt my head back to look at him, I see the weight of that burden in his eyes. He places his forehead atop his hands, sighing heavily and it’s like I can feel that weight in my chest. 

“I didn’t…” another breath, “I will do what is necessary for my people, no matter what it costs me, but… but it is heavy.”

I know the burden of leading a people is heavy, I have watched it tear Tam apart for decades. My brother had been kind once, had loved and laughed and had stayed up for hours teaching me how to play the fiddle when we were kids. Becoming the leader of our people had taken all those good and kind things and hardened them. The brother I had grown up with and the one I now answered to wouldn’t recognize each other. I hated myself for it, but the empathetic part of me can’t help but wonder if Rhysand had been like that too? Had he been kind and happy before he took over this position? Had becoming a lord stripped him of the things that had made him loveable and turned him into the monster that I knew?

Would being here turn me into a monster I didn’t recognize?

“It must be hard, to carry it alone,” I say slowly, weighing each word like it could be my last. This is a very vulnerable and volatile position to be in. I’m still very aware of the power that drifts off, his still bare, skin. I cannot upset it. But, can I find something useful here?

I’m playing with fire and I can feel it.

“I am used to it,” he replies.

Another beat and then he softly adds, “It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

His response simultaneously makes my heart ache and my mind spin. I hadn’t found anything of use in this tent, despite the hours I’d spent searching, and maybe that was a sign. Maybe there was nothing in this tent, because the information was all contained to one thing: The male standing behind me. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence that this morning I had been wondering if I should try and seduce him. My assessment about it being easy to do was already confirmed with this conversation, he was vulnerable, now more than ever, all it would take was a push in the right direction…

I push myself back up onto my knees and turn so I can face him. He looks small here, the wet strands of his hair clinging to his face. 

His violet eyes watch my every move like a snake tracking a mouse. 

There’s still a headboard between us. Still time to change my mind. Still time to keep my soul intact. What kind of person am I if I do this? 

I swallow the lump in my throat as I tentatively reach out to take his hand. At least there is no more blood on them. Touching him doesn’t immediately make fire rain down from the heavens so maybe that’s a sign the world won’t totally end if I do this. This male took everything from me, and yet, under his own admission, he’d damn his soul for his people. If a monster could do that, couldn’t I do it for the sake of my people?

“How can I help you?” I ask softly. I hope it sounds convincing, that the shakiness in my voice sounds like a lack of confidence and not because I’m trying not to throw up. This was not the plan this morning! But I’ve gotten nowhere all day and suddenly there’s an opening before me and I have to try and take it, don’t I? It might be my only chance, especially if there is fighting on the horizon. If I can distract him, or figure out who Tam needs to join forces with to finally be rid of Rhysand once and for all, I have to take it. 

His violet eyes widen as they settle on the placement of my hand on top of his, as if he hadn’t thought it possible that I would willingly comfort him. 

Am I doing this too fast?

“If… if this thing between us is real, I want to be useful. I want to be a good mate.” Kill me. Please, put me out of my misery, what in the Seven Hells am I doing?! “Please, show me how I can be a good mate?”

My parents are rolling in their graves.

He moves faster than most fae should be able to, hand sliding out from under mine to reach out and thread into my hair, pulling my body flush against the headboard as his lips meet mine. Cauldron, for a male who looked so awful seconds ago, his lips are sinfully soft. It takes a second for me to even register what I’m doing, and by the time that my brain catches up, he’s sliding his tongue past my teeth and I’m letting him, lips parting, head tilting to give him more access. Having the headboard still between us is both an uncomfortable angle to be at and a relief, because at least I have a little time to accept the fact that I just told Death he could bed me if that would make him feel better.

Tamlin can never find out this is how I saved our people. 

But this is for my people. I can play with fire for them.

There are worse ways to do it, I suppose. He’s certainly not a bad kisser. 

Hell, he’s actually a really, really good kisser, if I let myself stop thinking for two seconds and just relax, I might actually enjoy it.

He pulls away by a mere fraction, forehead resting on mine, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Distract me?” He asks, voice so low and husky I think he might actually be begging.

I hate to admit it, but I do get a thrill of seeing such a powerful male so desperate in my hands. Of course, I can’t let him know that. “Show me?”

It’s all the prompting he needs to release me long enough to climb into bed. I’d forgotten he was already undressed until he was pulling the blanket off and climbing on top of me, all warm skin and damp hair and more desperate kisses. Large hands slide under my sweater, exploring every inch of me as he continues to kiss me like a man starved.

My reservations begin to slip with each new brush of his callused hands over my skin, trailing higher and higher. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken anyone to bed, even longer since I’d had the time to let anybody explore my body so meticulously. It’s good. My eyes drifting shut, body arching into his touch. I don’t know which of us comes up for air first, or which pulls the other back for more. As easy as it is to end up in this position, I’m surprised how readily I want it, him. Something tugs at the skin beneath my breastbone, like there’s a thread being yanked on, warmth flaring down that little spot, hotter and hotter with each passing second. I don’t have enough time to consider what that is, what it means, before his lips trail down to my neck, teeth scraping my tender flesh.

I instinctively drag a hand through his hair as he nips and bites at my throat, surely leaving marks. If I ever had any intention to push him away, I lose it as his large hand kneads my breast, slender fingers moving to tweak my nipple. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as a moan slips out of me. 

Aren’t I supposed to be distracting him?

Before I can ask, he’s yanking my worn sweater over my head and tossing it over his shoulder. Those intense violet eyes run over me,  a grin stretching across his handsome features as he gives my breast another squeeze, but the teasing stops when he spots the scar across my abdomen. Or maybe the fact that you can count my ribs. Maybe both. His hands drift lower, methodically, not teasing but studying, like he might crack open my rib cage and dissect whatever is beneath my skin. 

“Who did this to you?” He growls, hand trailing over the scar.

My whole body trembles under his touch, mind reeling as I try to make sense of the sudden shift in tone. I don’t want to talk about this. Not with him. I’d already admitted too much to Mor earlier. We need to get back to the distraction. “Hunting accident,” I lie.

His hand remains over the scar, “Don’t lie.”

This is too intense, I’m too vulnerable in this position, I’ve lost all my power. My head spins, trying to think of something clever, trying to get myself back on track. Why did I think I could do this? Seduction is not my skill set. Outright anything is beyond me. I move behind the scenes, quietly with my head down, I am not anyone’s first line of defense. I’m not even sure I’m the last line of defense.

My heart’s pounding in my chest and I know he can feel it beneath his hand, because his face softens. His free hand comes to brush my cheek, pushing a few wild strands of hair from my face. Now I’m really shaking. This is far, far too intimate. 

“You’re my mate,” he says gently. “I will kill anyone who hurts you.”

I don’t want that kind of power looming over me the rest of my life. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You wanted a distraction. This-”

The tent flap bursts open without warning, a flurry of shadows rushing in. Rhysand barely has time to grab a blanket to cover the both of us before a male steps out of those shadows.

“Azriel!” Rhysand snarls. “This better be fucking important!”

The male stands at the edge of the bed, fighting leathers splattered in blood, his dark hair falling over a set of deep hazel eyes. He spins a bloody dagger between hands scarred beyond repair. “They’ve talked.”

Shit.

Rhysand is still leaning over me, body and wings shielding me from Azriel’s view. “And?”

Hazel eyes flick to me before returning to his lord. “Amarantha.”

I don’t know if I should sigh with relief or not. Tamlin is still safe. My people are still safe. But having Amarantha knocking at the door while I’m trapped inside here is not on my to do list. My whole life we’ve avoided her and Hybern’s forces by not making too big a fuss. If they want some of our territory, we push into another lord’s to make sure there’s space for us without any direct confrontation with her. We keep our heads down. We don’t make deals or bargain with the other more tolerable lord’s for aid. We stay within our own borders and we stay out of her way. But the Illyrians? They pick fights with her. They apparently have no qualms with torturing her men. 

“I’ll be right there,” Rhysand says in dismissal and his shadowy companion disappears as quickly as he came. 

“I have to deal with this,” he sighs, leaning back on his knees.

I’m relieved, I really am. I tried to do this way too quickly. I am relieved.

So why do I feel a knot in my stomach?

Rhysand leans in long enough to press a kiss to my forehead, the move tender and gentle, and nothing like the male that had entered this tent covered in blood just moments ago. It makes my head hurt. I know the kind of male he is. I know the monster that lies behind this pretty package. So why is he pretending to be anything else? Why act like this with me? What game is he playing?

“Maybe we can finish this later?” There’s a hint of teasing there, but it feels more like an apology.

I want a later. I want to feel those full lips on my skin again.

I absolutely don’t want a later. This whole thing is a mistake.

“Yeah,” I saw anyway.

He’s dressed and gone before I can ask myself why I agreed to it again. I put my head in my hands, palms pressed into my eyes. What am I doing here? And why is it starting to feel more complicated than it should be?

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

Taglist:

@judig92, @randomperson1234sblog, @nyxbranwenn, @lilah-asteria, @barb00235, @landofpetrichor, @hjgdhghoe, @buttermilktea11, @yourforeveryoungblog, @sassyn , @zoeisdreaming6

As always, let me know if you want to be added to the list :) Thx to everyone who has liked, commented or reblogged you're all angels <3

[nocasdatsgay]

So Where Do I Start?

Pairing: Eris x F-Reader | Rating: E 🌶️| Eris POV

Word count: 2256 | one-shot | Read on Ao3

Summary: You aren’t fully comfortable with your post baby body and Eris is not having it.

CW: an off screen baby, post baby body, insecurities, sex

A/N: I’ve never had a baby but I do have body issues 😂 there is also a part where Eris thinks about how much he basically missed the intimacy- don’t misconstrue it as him needing sex. I worried when I wrote that. If enough ppl like it I’ll post it on ao3 🫣 I put it on ao3

No tag list for this one cause I don’t want to subject ppl to baby content if they don’t want it 🫣

Eris had been flirting with you all day. You’d asked around lunch what had gotten into him and honestly he didn’t have an answer. Maybe it was the fact you’d both gotten decent sleep, your babe finally being at a point where they could sleep through the night. Maybe it was the fact things had slowed down for him, having finally caught up with paperwork and meetings now that he’d returned to focusing on high lord duties after the weeks spent helping with the baby.

Or maybe he just loved you. Which was nothing new.

Of course when you both got into bed, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Soft kisses deepened and he pushed up your nightshirt, determined to pull it off but you shoved at his hand. He pulled away immediately, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispered. Gods, it felt like it might kill him but he’d do it.

“No.” You didn’t look him in the eyes. “I just, I don’t want,” your voice trailed.

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Your gaze met his. You frowned at him. He frowned back. He tried to think of what was bothering you. It had been a few months. Recovery from birth was one of the longer healing processes even in high fae. It was highly possible you weren’t ready despite Edith stating you’d healed up perfectly a month ago. Just because you were cleared didn’t mean you were ready.

“I can wait,” he added. “I am more than happy just keep kissing you.”

“No.” Your eyes widened. “No, I want you. I do. I just. Maybe just leave my shirt on?”

He frowned again. “My love, we talked about this.”

And you both had. He noticed immediately when you started staring too long in the mirror and when you changed up your style of clothing. It took him weeks to convince you to bath with him again, to let him see you fully nude in a neutral setting.

“I know, but this is different.”

“How is it different?” He chuckled and you pouted at him. He sent his love through the bond hoping you’d forgive him for laughing.

“What if- I just don’t think I can handle it if, you know.” You bit your lip and looked away.

“If what?”

“If you- gods Eris you’re such an ass, don’t make me say it.” He grinned at you and it only flustered you more. “What if I kill your mood?”

He blinked, his own eyebrows raised up. “As if you haven’t smacked me several times already in the past month because I have gotten handsy in the bath.”

“That was different,” you protested. “You were just playing.”

He let his voice drop low and put his hand back on your shirt when he replied. “I never play with how much I want you.” He could smell your arousal spike back up. He made sure to lower hand and trace his fingers on your thigh. “Let me show you. If you still don’t believe me then we’ll stop and I’ll go to sleep in the study. Do we have a deal, my fire?”

“Gods you don’t play fair,” you said breathlessly.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He’d already distracted you enough to get his hand farther up your thigh, the shirt inching up with it. He reached your hip, his fingers running over your infernal underwear.

“Can I?” He asked, hooking a finger on the band.

“I don’t know. Can you?” You smarted back.

He looked you straight in the eyes when he replied, “I can and I will.” Then he set your underwear on fire, ensuring it only burned the fabric away and not your skin.

“Eris!” You yelled and pushed up the bed in shock.

“Hush, you’ll wake the baby, love,” he chuckled and used his magic to clear away the ash.

“You set my underwear on fire.” You hissed.

“I did. And I’m about to set that shirt aflame as well if you don’t let me take it off you.” He grinned.

“Fine. But if you can’t get it up, I am cutting your cock off and stuffing it down your throat. Then I’m murdering you.” You hissed and tugged up the nightshirt to pull it over your head.

“I love it when you're feisty.” He purred, his eyes immediately wandering down your body as you tossed the shirt off to the floor. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Start?”

You tried to cover yourself but he was not having it. He crawled over you, grabbing and pinning your arms by your head. He watched in real time your pupils dilate, your eyes going near black.

“I said I would show you how much I want you,” he leaned in and brushed his nose against your own. “So where do I start?”

For once he’d rendered you speechless. Good. He didn’t need you arguing with him when your opinions were clearly wrong. Especially when he let you go and sat up to look you over again. The mother truly blessed him by putting you in his path. He made sure to push that down the bond and smirked at your cheeks darkening.

“I know these are the babe’s favorites.” He whispered. He traced a finger around your breast. “It’s wrong of me to say this but I do enjoy it when you pull my hands up your top.”

“Eris,” you hissed.

“It’s true.” He grinned. “You get my warm hands pressed against your sore breasts and I get to hold you.” You blinked at that confession. “My mate, did you think I had nefarious reasons?”

“I thought you just liked to touch my breasts.”

He shrugged, “what is that phrase my brothers keep spewing when they cheat at cards? A win is in fact still a win?”

You rolled your eyes. He continued moving his finger down your sternum and traced around your stomach. You frowned.

“Despite how you feel, I do love how soft you are now.” His fingers moved around to your side and traced your hip. “And how wide your hips are now.”

“I don’t. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. That was expensive.”

You then yelped and jolted as he moved over you, putting one leg between your thighs to wedge him apart.

“As if I care about the cost. These hips carried our baby.”

He leaned in and kissed the valley between your breasts. His left hand cupped your right breast when he kissed down your chest again. He could feel you relax under him and grinned against your stomach. He maneuvered himself so he could switch and cup your other one against his heated palm.

“I swear that’s all you're good for,” you teased, placing your hand on top of his. “Male hot stone.”

He slid down further and nipped his teeth at the skin above your belly button and he felt you tense again. He knew you hated how soft your stomach was and how the skin there was still recovering from being stretched to accommodate your child. He’d spend the rest of his life convincing you it was a blessing if he had to. Because it was.

“This beautiful belly of yours,” he kissed your stomach, “made our perfect babe. That was all you, my fire.”

“I know.” You didn’t sound convinced.

Eris knew it would take time. Even if he was impatient, he wouldn’t argue with you. He learned a long time ago that only made you stand firm in your thoughts. Instead he pressed more open mouth kisses along your stomach, pulling his hands away to loop his arms under your thighs. He didn’t miss the way you gasped or how your scent sweetened. He definitely didn’t miss the humming want you were pushing in through the bond. He rolled his hips into the bed like a fuckin youth just to relieve his own tension.

He wasted no more time, eager to get his mouth between your legs. He pulled your legs apart and peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs. You were still tense; something he had not encountered since the first time you were together. Despite your apprehension, you were still wet for him. He tried not to be smug as he put his mouth on you and your body relaxed in his hold.

He moaned as he licked up your center, your taste and smell overwhelming him in the best way. It was almost muscle memory, his tongue moving against your already swollen nub in a way that had you grabbing him by his hair. And by the cauldron, did he miss your hands in his hair.

Eris had planned to take his time. Take you apart slowly and remind you how much he loved you. Your body had other plans. You rolled your hips against his face, and he sucked and licked harder. He didn’t even get his fingers in you before you moaned and arched on the bed.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you came, panting and yanking his hair as he worked you through it. You had enough when you pulled him up.

He laughed. “That’s a record.”

“Is it?” You were still gasping.

“You really know how to stroke a male’s ego.” He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should take breaks more often.”

“Insufferable.” You muttered.

“I’m about to be even more insufferable,” he said with a sly tone.

He made certain you were looking when he rolled his pants down, his length springing free and curving up on his stomach.

“Still doubt me?” He smirked and stroked himself.

You groaned. “Fine, I believe you.” Despite your tone you gave him a loving look. “Now hush and come fuck me.”

Eris kicked off his pants and crawled over you. There were no words exchanged as your legs fell open and he seemed to settle in place with ease. You gasped when he reached in between you both to guide himself into your slick heat. He groaned almost too loud when he bottomed out into you and stilled.

By The Mother he missed this. Being so close to you; being physically connected to you. The bond between you both tight, filled with love and passion. He laid there for a moment to savor it. He kissed you deeply and used his hand to bring your leg up farther on his waist.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead to yours. “I swear I’d put another baby in you right now if Edith wouldn’t kill me.”

“I think I would kill you.” Your tone was amused rather than annoyed, thankfully.

“And what sweet death it would be,” he muttered.

He kissed you again and propped himself up on one of his arms. The shift alone felt like lightning shooting up his spine. He realized at that moment he shouldn’t have laughed at you for coming apart so quickly. Eris groaned and cursed when he rocked his hips.

“Know how to stroke a female’s ego.” Your laughter faded into a moan; Eris thrusted into you a little harder.

You were both mostly silent after that. Eris’s mouth was preoccupied with kissing every inch of your face and chest he could reach. You were biting your lip when he wasn’t kissing you so you wouldn’t get vocal and wake the baby. He could feel you plateau through the bond, both of you just enjoying the feeling of being together in this way again.

He finally moved up and put your leg up over his shoulder to let him dive into you harder. You sighed and he felt your pleasure spike through the bond. He tried to not be smug about it. He reached his hand between you and rubbed his thumb gently in time with his thrusts. He grinned at how you mewled.

“Can you come for me again, love?” You nodded. He was close himself, his breathing haggard. “Will you do that for me? Come with me.”

It took a few moments before you arched off the bed again and flooded the bond with your pleasure. He groaned coming right behind you, but not stopping until you stopped pulsing around him. He dropped your leg and damn near collapsed on top of you.

Eris pushed himself off you with a groan, still catching his breath. “I think I need to start training again.”

“Overwork yourself?” You giggled “I think that’s just your age showing.”

Eris bit back a retort. After a moment he reluctantly moved off the bed and muttered he would get you a towel. Sleepiness was creeping into his bones while he cleaned himself off and wet a hand towel for you. He grabbed his pants off the floor where he tossed them and before he returned to bed, he peered into the nursery. Your babe was still fast asleep.

It seemed you were also sleepy when he crept up to the bed and saw your eyes closed. He made sure to heat the towel with his hand before maneuvering it between your legs and cleaning up the mess he made. You inhaled sharply but only blinked at him. He incinerated it once he was done.

“You’re so dramatic,” you grumbled at him.

“But you love me,” he said and leaned in and kissed you again before crawling into bed.

“That I do,” you muttered and scooted over to him so you could cuddle until you both fell asleep.

[elen-tari2]

My Kastle Scene Wishlist

I’m not sure what Kastle content we might get in Daredevil Born Again, but there is also talk that they might make a new Punisher show. What are some scenes/parallels that you would like to see between Frank and Karen? Here’s a few of my musings

Reversed Hospital Scene! I would like to see Frank momentarily panic over Karen getting hurt and have a turn holding her hand in a hospital bed. I feel like we deserve this scene so bad. (Caveat: Frank CANNOT be the reason Karen got injured, even if it’s just she got shot in the arm or has a concussion; Karen is in dangerous situations regardless of Frank being near her or not and he needs a wake up call for that). Bonus points for the total opposite of telling her to walk way—this time HE GETS IN THE HOSPITAL BED and puts his arms around her and just holds her and Karen gets to feel completely safe for a few minutes. Just go all out with the hurt/comfort trope for these two. Anyway, I have a whole WIP fic devoted to this, so honestly it has become my top wish to see some parallels drawn with another hospital scene.

Karen gets to help in a fight and shoots someone. I feel like since they never got to have the Wesley conversation, a way to show-not-tell would be for Karen to kill a bad guy and then Frank come check on her to be like, ‘hey are you okay?’and she’d be like, ‘yeah, I am.’ She’d be a bit shaken up but grimly holding it together because it’s not her first time killing someone. This would also work in contrast to the scene where Amy shoots the guy in the hall and then Frank infamously takes the gun from her and takes the responsibility of his death away from her. Sorry to make Karen suffer because I know she’ll feel bad about it, but I’d be okay with seeing her character go a little bit darker to save someone’s life. She’s been carrying that gun since DDs2, she deserves to take out a baddie on her own and it’d be a great segue into rehashing some of her past that Frank NEEDS to know about

Frank meets Paxton Page. Will the show make time for this? Probably not. But damn do I want to know what Frank would say if he knew that Karen’s dad cut off his only daughter, when Frank would do anything—anything—to spend one minute with Lisa again. I’d love to see Frank go to Fagan Corners with Karen to put flowers on her mom and brother’s graves. We spent three seasons of Frank being able to open up around Karen and talk about his family with her. Meanwhile she has never once said anything about the losses she’s suffered. Frank needs to know and I don’t want it all jammed into one big backstory dump where she tells him she killed her brother and Wesley in the same conversation. Another option would be for Frank to accidentally visit Karen on the anniversary of her mom/Kevin’s death and she is having a breakdown. If we can’t get into any of Karen’s past, have Frank find out Karen has his burner phone saved in her contacts listed as Home. I’ve seen that idea in several different fics and it just needs to be canon. They are Home to each other.

A scene where Frank holds Karen all night and they don’t have sex, but it’s profound. (Think like Spike holding Buffy). If they are nervous about comics fans being mad about Frank Castle finding love again, give us some physical intimacy and closeness where you know they mean everything to each other but can’t cross the line and make things real. Fan fic writers will know we won and then fill in the rest for those cowards.

If they’re willing to make Kastle real, give us a goddamn kiss. Actually, just let them have sex, because Karen Page has been forced to stay chaste for YEARS and she deserves to get laid. And Jon Bernthal seems to be more than comfortable doing sex scenes soooo please just make it the most beautiful thing ever filmed because they are so in love with each other. It has to be noticeably different in tone from the scene with Beth. And Karen cannot get shot the next day, don’t even start with any of that bull$hit trauma for Frank.

Kastle pillow talk scene. Since it’s Disney Marvel now, I don’t know how much we can hope for with a sex scene. So the pillow talk scene that follows had better be some life-altering confessions of love and cuddles. Do not even think about him sneaking out before she wakes up like he almost did with Beth. Karen deserves something good to happen to her for once, let her have a perfect night and a gentle, soft morning after. She deserves it even if Frank isn’t sure if he does.

Karen Page and Dinah Madani Friendship. I’m rewatching The Punisher s2 and one thing that pissed me off was the scenes of fake bonding between Dinah and Krista Dumont, drinking wine together and discussing men (Frank and Billy, who else). So. To make up for that, we need some genuine female friendships, like Karen and Dinah going to a shooting range together or gym or going out to a nice bar for girls night. Even if Frank has been keeping his distance, these ladies have struck up a friendship and Karen has someone to hang out with besides her lawyer coworkers.

Karen gets to meet Micro/The Lieberman family AND Curtis. David knows how Frank really feels about Karen. Curtis needs to find out Frank DOES still have something good holding him in this world. And Karen should meet Frank’s friends.

Okay those are some of the scenes I want to see for Frank and Karen! If someone could please get this list to the Punisher writers for the future of the show, it’s actually very important that we get some of this or I’m gonna have to come write for the show myself. 🙈

[thinkingthougths]

ngl im finding it hard to get the story going and actually come up with a decent plot and i’ve also started writing like 5 other stories that i hope one day i can post here xoxo

-Ghost x female reader

2036 words

-no warnings in this chapter

The haunting of a Ghost

Chapter 4

You called in sick the rest of the day. Just a few non significant meetings that didn’t require your presence nor had any importance in the future, just routine and what not.

From noon to late evening you kept to yourself in the barracks, thankful that your bed were at the end of the room and provided a wall instead of a neighbor bed. The coverage gave some privacy compared to the ones whose bed were placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by others with no corner to hide in.

Restlessly you attempted to sleep through the day, turning back and forth in your bed chasing an ounce of some shuteye. A nap seemed like the best way to make the hours pass by quicker, not wanting to endure the ever growing pit of shame in your stomach and the constant flashbacks of the incident with the lieutenant.

You self-sooth by tightly hugging yourself, desperate for some comfort to calm yourself. It helped a little, loosened your muscles and slowed your breathing. But sleep never came.

Glancing at the clock on your phone, it says it’s past seven in the evening. Meaning the cafeteria will most likely be devoid of any visitors, since dinner was two hours ago. You missed the meal when you opted to stay in bed and loathe yourself. Persistent growls from your empty stomach reveals how hungry you’ve become after not participating in dinner. You need to eat, and now is the best time to sneak past everyone to get to the building where the cafeteria is and buy something from the vending machines.

It was a whole ordeal mustering up the confidence to accept the chance you might stumble upon Ghost on your way there.

You’ve spent every minute since the whole fiasco happened going through all the details. Scrutinizing your actions and thoughts, judging yourself and hating that you didn’t call in sick from the beginning. Then you wouldn’t have had ended up as a train wreck and everything would have been normal and continued the way it was before.

You should have listen to your gut feeling that told you it wasn’t a good idea to enter the gym today. Should have heeded the foreboding omens.

The cafeteria was in the northern building and the path there took you right by all the recreation rooms and places where everyone would relax especially now when the work day was over for most people. Thankfully, you knew of a shortcut that wasn’t really much of a shortcut, just a different path nobody particularly used. Its path winded through several conjoined buildings, up and down few stairs, and then a small path behind the cafeteria to its back door. The buildings were mostly made up of meeting rooms and similar rooms that were only used during the day and are supposed to be empty this time of day. It’s a road you’ve hiked before, when the introvert in you were desperate for food and not in the mood for small talk with your fellow soldiers.

Dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black fleece jacket with a T-shirt beneath, you embarked on the journey for some dinner.

A few of the women from your barrack stopped you on your way out, asking how you were feeling. They had been on the meetings you missed and noticed your lack of presence. You gave them a hasty throw-up of words about the reason why, lying that you probably just had eaten something your stomach didn’t approve but it was much better now. They swallowed your lie with ease and let you continue on your errand.

It’s nice knowing that you’re not completely invisible as you think you are sometimes and that people actually do notice if you’re missing.

The dim lights at the door give way for the moons gentle glow shine through the small window. Opening the door to the outside, the moon’s delightfully basking you in its pale light as you head for the next building.

It went smoothly to get to one place to the other. You encountered a minimal amount of people, none that knew you and thankfully left you alone. And most important of all, you didn’t run into Ghost. That was what you feared the most. Not knowing how to behave around him after what had happened. For the last couple of hours you had contemplated wether to act like the way you felt, hurt and ashamed, or if you should do the most professional thing in these circumstances; act like nothing had gone down between you, like his soft brushes against your shivering skin hadn’t culminated any raw desires deep within your innocent and tender heart.

Which might turn out to be kind of hard since you share a few friends with him, especially a certain Sergeant Kyle Garrick. Kyle was the one who showed you the ropes the day you transferred to this base, he took you under his wing and made you feel at home ridiculously fast. The amount of compassion and benevolence that man carried was unmeasurable, he always went out of his way to be there for everyone and he never let you down. Without him this place would have been unbearable your first year when no one else seemed to have taken an interest to you to become a friend. You were so goddamn grateful for Kyle, you’d take a bullet for him no questions asked.

He was also, unfortunately, a very close companion to Ghost since they came from the same taskforce, the 141. The bond they shared came from years and years of tough missions done together, some that lasted many long and torturous months. You’d never beat that, and secretly feared that if push came to shove and this whole situation with Ghost turned really bad, Kyle would pick the lieutenants side over yours.

No, you shake your head while exiting the last building, it isn’t fair to Kyle to wager which of his friends he’d choose. He’s too much of a good person to ever pick a side.

Instead, you focused on not slipping in the dewy grass behind the cafeteria. Tiptoeing carefully using the faint glow of the moon to see where you’re stepping. Some moisture from the grass makes its way through your thin sneakers, annoyingly dampening the bottoms of your socks. This is the downside of behaving like some stupid spy on a mission, opting for the outside terrain instead of the inside where proper flooring is; you get to suffer a bit.

Above the double door was a twinkling lightbulb barely covered by the metal lampshade, the bulb having a steady rhythm of being on and off. For such a large and well money supported military base you’d think they’d invest a bit more in keeping functional lights. You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes and pulling the door open. Its hinges creaks from apparent disuse and neglect, no one goes through these doors regularly. And that’s why you slow down the opening of the door, to dull the sound and keep noisy ears from being tempted to see where the shrill sound came from.

Hot air from the overhead ac blew on you, making you toasty again after being outside in the colder temperature.

The room you entered was just an antechamber that led to different hallways. The one you’re walking towards leads you straight to the where the vending machines are. Past a few other rooms designed for the soldiers and others on this base to leisure in, and by the distant reverberating sounds they are all pretty much occupied.

You were aware of this, that people would hang out here, and have already doubled up your speed to sneak by unseen.

The clamor of a group loudly laughing at something had you slow down to a normal pace. One laugh stood out to you, it was the rich voice of Kyle.

Shit. If Kyle’s there, then the rest of taskforce 141 are also probably hanging out in the rec room with him as they tend to stay together.

There was no door leading into the room, just a wide gaping entrance that gives a panoramic view of the entire space.

Anxiety tugged at your heart, an inner voice telling you keep your head straight forward and keep on walking.

But curiosity of knowing whether the lieutenant was participating in the pastime or not made you falter your step into a creeping shuffle. Just one quick peak inside before anyone can catch you spying and your curiosity will be sated, you tell yourself. The lewd action of something way too close to stalking was thrilling all the while you were chewing on the inside of your cheek in nervousness.

Standing right next to the entrance and out of sight, you gather some courage and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants.

Steadily leaning forward while holding a grip on the wall, you survey the small crowded room. Twenty people at least, occupying every seat that can be found including ledges of tables and some down on the ratty carpets.

Scanning all faces, you find the one whose voice you’d picked up earlier; Kyle. The carefreeness oozing from him as he lively holds a conversation with a man you don’t recognize while taking a swig from a beer bottle. A warm smile forms on your lips at the sight, seeing him at ease and enjoying himself after the intense mission he came from last night makes you happy.

Happiness that’s extinguished like a light when your eyes catches the sight of Ghost.

You feel sick.

He is standing in a corner, leaning up against the wall next to a girl you can’t remember ever having seen here before. She’s very pretty and it’s abundantly clear that she is heavily flirting with him. Standing close, arching her body and seductively tilting her dainty head while bearing her neck to him, like an offering. An offering that he seems to consider as he’s not outright rejecting her advances nor trying to make any moves to escape the interaction.

The view has you difficulty swallowing, mouth suddenly bone dry as your blood punishingly pounds throughout your tensed body.

Taking a step back, you blink in confusion. Why are you having such a strong reaction at seeing a woman fluttering her eyes at Ghost. You hate the man, hate his guts and everything about him. He’s a bully. You should feel relief that his attention might move on from you and to another woman that he can harass.

So, why do you want to throw up when Ghost tips just an inch closer toward her while holding her heated gaze.

Damn his balaclava that covers his face so you can’t make out if he is smirking or not, accepting her advances or not. The only things visible are his hooded eyes. The same brown eyes that once were pointed to you.

You don’t want to accept that you’re feeling rejected. As if you’ve been in some sort of situationship with him and now been thrown aside like garbage and replaced by a newer and prettier toy.

You detest Ghost. He shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this. You absolutely hate these disgusting emotions that he’s provoked. The rollercoaster of fear and humiliation, and the feelings you don’t want to admit to, the odd infatuation that’s he enchanted you with and how special you felt that someone paid you any attention. Especially, a guy like him who’s known for being stone cold unattainable and rejecting all forms of approaches.

Lost in your musings, your eyes stayed too long on Ghost and he noticed you. His fierce brown eyes flicked towards yours so fast, as if he’d know all along you’d been watching him.

You gasped, stumbling backwards in surprise.

Did he knew you were spying in him all this time?

It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured on you, making your heart drop into your stomach as you fast-track it out of there not sparing a single second for him to burn you with his heated stare.

[dreamdepot]

Super Royal Assistant! - Chapter 5: Wish Upon a Star Road

Previous < First > Next

Your impromptu adventure takes you through new lands as you get wrapped up in Smithy’s plot… as well as weddings, wishes, and pirates…

AO3 Wattpad or below!

When going on an adventure, you imagined something closer to the stories about the Mario Bros or those adventure novels Goombella hid under her bed – that is, something along the lines of rolling grassy hills and fodder enemies for grinding. Instead, you spent the last hour skirting the edge of Boo Woods. “Are you sure this is a shortcut?” You were more than thankful your new boots were comfortable for the longer-than-expected trek.

“More or less. Ideally, I’d just fly you there, but since we don’t know for sure, we should keep an eye out,” Kamek said, floating beside you on his broom. “Not to mention, this broom barely holds me up these days.”

The two of you emerged from the edge of the dark, twisted woods. A few flowers giggled as Kamek got smacked with a stray branch. You now stood in the rugged wastes leading into the rocky peaks near Marrymore. “No offense, but if I built a whole town for the wedding industry, I would’ve picked something a bit easier to get to,” you sighed as you began the climb.

“I’m sure they picked it as a way to demonstrate one’s love through sacrifice and hardship… or some crap like that,” Kamek replied. After a beat, he added, “Wasn’t expecting to be in Marrymore until next week.”

“Have a sweetheart?” You asked.

Kamek laughed, “Several, but never wanted to settle down. They called me a heartbreaker back in the day who sent the boys crying home. But not what I’m talking about; I do a drag show every now and then.”

“You do drag?”                          

“Nothing fancy like you see at the big shows in New Donk or Shroom City, of course. No, Kammy’s an old queen who’s there to help the young’uns these days. Still, come out on stage every now and then and take home a nice bundle. I do a mean lip sync to Chanterelle.”

“Next week huh? I’ll make the trip for that – though I’m taking a warp pipe or a bus next time.”

“Agreed,” Kamek muttered as the two of you passed the sign at the city’s edge.

The famed town of Marrymore sat atop the summit, with perfectly manicured gardens and spotless streets. Villas with sprawling lawns and wrought iron fences seemed to be everywhere. A massive resort sat just off the main street, lined with topiaries shaped like hearts. “Man, and I thought the castle was posh,” you muttered.

“Why do you think I do shows here? You get tipped in gold bars. Only place better is Poshley Heights,” Kamek said.

The crown jewel was the majestic chapel overlooking the entire town. The bells were already ringing out a jaunty tune, and flower petals drifted everywhere in the breeze. “Wow, someone must be throwing the wedding of the century,” you commented. “Think they hired the Broodals?”

“Please, they’re so exclusive, even Bowser would break the bank to hire them,” Kamek sighed. “Believe me, I’ve had to talk him down from that multiple times.”

“Excuse me,” came a voice with clacking footsteps. A stranger appeared from around the corner. He appeared to be a life-size wooden puppet wearing a blue cape and a blue hat. “Greetings, I am Geno. Are you friends of Mario and Mallow?”

“You could say that,” Kamek said, adjusting his glasses as he peered at your new companion.

“Ah I’m glad to have found you,” Geno continued, unbothered by Kamek’s gaze. He focused his attention on you. “Mallow said that I should keep a look out for the nice man in a pink vest.”

Kamek chuckled. “Not a whole lot of people with your fashion sense, [Y/n].”

“I didn’t exactly have much of a say in the uniform,” you replied. “Are Mario and Mallow here? Have they found the Princess or Bowser?”

“Yes. Both.” Geno nodded. “You’ve come at a fortuitous time, please follow me, quickly.” He led you down the stone path. “Tell me, you were the one who restored the first shard of the Star Road, correct?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds like a much bigger deal than just picking it up,” you replied. “But yes.”

Geno nodded. “Then I thank you from the core of my being. Restoring the Star Road is my purpose on this world.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but you’re quite extraordinary,” Kamek said, seeming to scan Geno with his wand. “I’ve never seen such well executed magic to animate a puppet so well…”

“Ah, possession magic tends to be stronger than animation magic.”

“Possession?! Are you a spirit?”

Geno seemed to smile, despite his fixed expression. “In a manner of speaking. I serve a higher authority.”

Geno led the two of you to the chapel, where a group of Snifters in gray gathered. “Um, excuse me?” You called, tentatively reaching for your new hammer.

Thankfully you didn’t need it, as they were not machines like the Shymores. “Sorry, we’re having a wedding, so we can’t play today,” one of the Snifters said.

“Who’s wedding?” You started to ask, just as a familiar scream pierced the air. “Peach!” You charged into the chapel, Kamek close behind. Peach lay in the aisle, but instead of Bowser or one of the mechanical monstrosities, a gremlin of a man stood nearby.

“Hey, it’s [Y/n]!” Mallow said as you ran in, standing next to Mario and… Bowser?

Well, there was no time to unpack that now. A brigade of Snifsters shoved you aside and carried Peach to the altar. “Booster sir, we’re ready for the wedding, we just need to light the candles!”

“Then let’s get this wedding started!” He shouted. He then turned to Peach. “What’s this? Water from your eyes… are you leaking, my dear?”

“My shoes, my ring, my brooch, and… my crown!” She sobbed. “They’re all missing!”

Assistant instincts kicked in before you even realized, as you quickly hopped over the pews, grabbing Peach’s missing accessories. With your new boots, you could nearly jump as high as Mario. With the last snagged, you hopped up to the altar, trying to catch your breath as you silently handed them over. “Oh, thank you [Y/n]! You’re my hero!” Peach leaned in to kiss you but stopped short. “Oh wait… I’m your employer. That, um…”

“No, yeah that might not look great,” you replied. “Hug?”

“Hug works!” Peach said, embracing you and enveloping you in her appropriately fruity perfume.

Bowser and Booster both growled under their breath, but you only could make out the Koopa King’s words. “Stupid, I should’ve gotten that kiss…” You did your best not to roll your eyes.

Just then, a cart burst into the chapel, holding a massive – but messy – three-tiered cake. “Ze wedding cake! Zhee is here!” A Koopa chef announced. He stopped short. “Vat? Vat is going on?”

His apprentice poked his head out behind the melting frosting. “Is the wedding cancelled?” Before anyone could explain, he groaned. “No, this can’t be! We worked all day on it!”

“Listen, maybe we can still have the cake, there’s no reason to get worked up,” you said. Your eyes crawled over the multicolored batter and misshapen decorations, especially the raspberries matched with wafer cookies and candy canes. For a second, you could have sworn the whole thing twitched. “Uh… so, what flavor of cake is it?”

“Every flavor!” The chef proudly replied.

“Oh dear…” You had heard of “mistakes” before from when you visited Tayce T in town, but this took the cake, literally.

“I see you and zee judging! You are idiot! You do not appreciate zee fine art of zee baking!” The chef snarled. “Ve vork hard and-”

“Uh, Chef Torte?” His apprentice whispered. “The cake is moving.”

“Moving? Vat? Idiot, it-” He was cut off by a roar that rattled the stained-glass windows. The cake trembled and shook, the five oversized birthday candles bursting into flame. “AIYEEE!”

“Look out!” Kamek shouted, casting a spell that created a shield around you, Peach, and Bowser. The others ducked behind a pew, narrowly avoiding the sandstorm that now raged in the chapel.

“What do we do against a cake?” Mallow shouted.

“It’s a cake!” Bowser shouted back. “We eat! It might not be one of Peach’s cakes, but I’ve got an iron stomach!”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Kamek muttered. Before Bowser could protest, the cake roared again, but this time it sounded more fearful.

“I call dibs!” Booster said, scrambling over with his Snifsters. “Let’s dig in!” The monstrous cake didn’t stand a chance.

==============================    

With the cake gone and Booster in a food coma, the rest of you figured it best to take your leave. “Peach, I should really get you back home. Toadsworth is gonna have an aneurysm at this rate.”

“Please [Y/n]? A princess should really be out there helping her people, especially at times like this. I know Toadsworth worries, but this is the time for action.”

Your stomach twisted, you knew she was right after seeing what just Claymorton had done and the mass panic after the sword landed… but that also meant that you would have to deal with it. “What do I even tell him?”

“I don’t know, just call him up and say I’m taking a rest at one of the other castles.”

“He’ll never buy that.”

“He will, believe me, did it all the time when I was growing up.”

You rubbed your forehead, hoping you wouldn’t regret this. “I… I guess I can let you, but I’m coming with you!” You didn’t want to add that if you returned without Peach, you’d probably kiss your job goodbye.

Peach clapped her hands. “Wonderful!”

“Now that that’s settled, I suggest we make our way to Star Hill,” Geno said. “I can sense the next Star Piece there.”

“While you all go get that one, I better go check to make sure the kids are still doing alright. After that, I’ll scout ahead and see if I can find the next one,” Kamek said. “Try not to get into trouble!”

==============================

Star Hill stood before you, glittering in the perpetual night that hung over the region. The ground glowed with an unearthly soft blue light. Tiny stars rained down all around you, leaving small craters in the earth. Beyond, near the top of the hill, stood Shooting Star Summit and the entrance to the mythical Star Road – or at least it used to. “I don’t understand why taking out the Star Road was part of their plan,” you said. “Did they want to take everyone’s wishes?”

“No, not exactly,” Geno said. “The Star Road is the way that wishes reach Star Haven. There, the Star Spirits grant the wishes, and they return to earth as falling stars. But, since the Star Road is broken, ungranted wishes are stuck here too. The Star Spirits can’t hear your cries for help. I imagine Smithy wanted to invade unopposed and cut all of you off from any assistance.”

You scratched your head. “Okay… but why not go after the Star Spirits themselves? Wouldn’t it be better to have the power of wishes?”

Bowser snorted. “Not a bad plan, maybe you ought to be working for me.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Geno said, shooting a glare at Bowser. “I imagine Smithy is afraid of them. The Star Spirits are nigh omnipotent. The only way one would stand a chance against them is if one had the Star Rod.” Geno frowned – or at least as best a puppet could frown. “The last time a mortal wielded the powers of the stars without restraint… have you ever heard of Halcandra?”

“No?” You replied.

“There’s a good reason for that.” Geno’s eyes scanned the landscape for any sign of Smithy’s minions. “We’re wasting time. The Star Piece should be around here somewhere.”

“Finding a Star Piece here is gonna be impossible,” Bowser grumbled. You found yourself nodding along. Stars lay everywhere, glowing with all colors of the rainbow.

“Perhaps we should split up to cover more ground,” Geno suggested. “Mallow and I will take the north.”

“Mario and I can take the eastern part!” Peach quickly added.

“Looks like that leaves you and me, Bowser,” you jumped in, eager to keep Peach away from the lovestruck king. Bowser growled but didn’t put up much of a fight, merely turning and trudging westward.

For a while, the two of you hiked across the hill, the only sound being Bowser’s heavy stomps, leaving their own little craters. “So…” you started.

“Yeah?”

“I’m… sorry about your castle?”

“Nothing I can’t fix,” he grumbled.

You fell back into uneasy silence as you walked over these hills of hopes and dreams. Stars of all colors surrounded you, and as you passed, you could hear some of them whisper bits of their ungranted desires. One, however, seemed to call to you more than the others. Looking at the star, you could feel it pulse in time with your heartbeat. There was no doubt that star was one of your wishes. Unfortunately, Bowser must have come to the same conclusion as his claw reached towards it. “Don’t you dare! That’s private!”

“Like that’s ever stopped me!” He touched the glowing star, and your voice echoed around you.

I wish to walk among the stars…

“The hell is that supposed to mean? Aren’t we doing that now?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m not budging until you tell me, so spill.”

You sucked on your teeth, trying to find the right words. “I… wanted to be an astronaut. Studied like hell, passed all the written tests, I should’ve been a shoo-in for REXA, but…” you turned away from him, looking up at the beautiful shooting stars above, “I couldn’t pass the physical. Astronauts have to meet strict guidelines for everything, especially the health ones.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t pass the medical requirements, turns out I have a disqualifying disability. Something just didn’t work for me. I couldn’t be an astronaut… so I switched my major in college. Went to a bit of a dark place for a while…” Your voice trailed off, really not wanting to get into that with him of all people.

Bowser was quiet for a moment. That alone was a bit surprising. You figured he’d laugh or something, but there was nothing. Finally, he said, “Life ain’t fair sometimes. Doesn’t mean you can’t go to the stars someday.”

“I know; it’s kinda why I decided to work for Peach. Figure maybe someday I could at least tag along on one of her racing trips up there to the Rainbow Belts.”

“Guess we better help these star people get the Star Road fixed then, huh.”

It wasn’t so much a question as a promise. You turned back to him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“Don’t thank me. Wishes are bullshit. You’re a stubborn enough guy to get there on your own. Just figure Geno could at least give you a helping hand.”

“Heh, I guess he could. Still though.”

Bowser shrugged and led the way up Star Hill. “Maybe those Star Spirits actually do something for once…”

“They’ve helped me a lot before,” you said softly. Bowser seemed lost in thought for the briefest moment but continued trudging up the hill. He stopped for a moment beside a star that glowed red but left it behind. Part of you wanted to know, to get back at him for listening to your wish, but you held back. The way he looked at it almost seemed filled with disdain, or was it just painful longing? It was hard to tell with him. For now though, you resolved to leave it be.

“Over here!” You heard Peach call. Just over the next hill, you could see her and Mario next to the giant purple Star Piece.

“We’ll be right there!” You called back. “C’mon Bowser, sooner we get these Star Pieces back, the sooner we can get your castle back.”

“You wanna be rid of me that badly, huh?”

“What? No, I-”

“Just messin’ with ya, nerd. Loosen up.”

“…right.”

==============================

With the Star Piece secured, you soon found yourself on a much more pleasant coastal path. “Seaside Town… it’s so beautiful!” Peach exclaimed. “Just a quiet little fishing village up here on the coast. Father and I used to go here all the time for weekends away from the castle.”

“Must be nice,” Bowser said, “Doesn’t look like a lot of people get out here.”

“Yes, that’s what I liked about it, though,” Peach frowned as you approached the town. “This seems even quieter than usual.”

“Almost seems like a g-ghost town,” Mallow whimpered.

Geno flicked his wrist, swapping his hand for a shiny gun barrel. “Everyone, be on your guard.”

The town was eerily quiet and the houses all seemingly empty. It wasn’t until Mario pushed open the door to the shop that you caught a glimpse of any life. “OH!” came a shriek.

Bowser shoved you out of the way to protect Peach as Geno rolled in, training his arm on the noise. “Toads,” Geno said simply. You bit your tongue and brushed yourself off, squeezing past Bowser with a scoff. Bowser snorted back at you.

“Oh, we’re sorry, we thought you were that monster!” The Toad shopkeeper replied in a raspier-than-usual voice.

“Monster?” You asked.

“Johnathan Jones!” A fellow Toad added. “An evil pirate! He stole that shiny star that fell from the sky!”

“Johnathan Jones…” you muttered but stopped. “Hey, are you both feeling okay?”

“N-never better!” One replied, but you still worried about their skin which was a shade of blue normally reserved for asphyxiation.

You decided to let it slide for now, but both you and Bowser planted yourselves between them and Peach. Mario picked up a few necessities in the shop before all of you made your way down towards the docks. “So, Bowser, you have a submarine, right?” You asked.

“Hey, that’s classified information! Besides, it’s on a top-secret mission to-”

“You left it in the Dire, Dire Docks painting world, didn’t you?”�� Peach asked.

“…Maybe.”

“Okay, plan B,” you said, clapping your hands. “Got any spare frog-suits Mario!”

Mallow gasped. “Hey!”

“Right, right, sorry! Okay, plan C… any ideas Geno?”

He pointed towards the water, now bubbling furiously. “I think we wait for them.”

Suddenly, the water frothed white and monster shark privateers emerged from the waves. Their leader, unlike his compatriots, seemed to be a strange figure wearing a shark costume, but that didn’t detract from his sheer presence. He laughed as he emerged, brandishing his impressive trident. “Don’t let them get away, I won’t let any ruffians take my sea!”

“Wait, this might be a misunderstanding!” Peach said.

Bowser spoke with his fists, clobbering two of the pirates easily. “Buzz off! We don’t want your damn sea.”

You and Mallow ducked as Mario leaped past to stomp their heads. Mallow readied as spell as Geno fired his star beams. You grabbed your hammer and swung… and fell forward onto the dock. “Ouch.”

“Hmm, appears you need practice before you tangle with the likes of us.” You suddenly realized a fin was planted before you. You looked up at the glowing eyes of the pirate leader and gulped. “Well now, what do we have here…” He bent down, gently tipping your chin up with his hook hand. “Oh my, you aren’t some ruffian, you’re a precious treasure…”

“I… what?”

“You may call me Johnny,” he said, gently taking your hand and kissing the back.

“I don’t think we’re on the same page here. Maybe we should sit down and talk about this?”

“Ah, parley! You are craftier than you look.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

He called to his crew, “Gentlemen, we must save this beauty from those horrible monsters, bring him to the ship so he won’t be harmed!”

“Aye aye!”

Soon you found yourself hoisted into the air by several of his fishy friends. “So, this is what this feels like,” you muttered.

“[Y/n]!” Peach shouted, trying to reach for you.

“I’ll be okay!” You said back, knowing you were headed for the star. You braced yourself for the plunge as they charged towards the sea. “Okay boys, you wouldn’t happen to have a diving helmet or anything for me, would you?” They didn’t respond with anything beyond a hearty cheer. “Great, thanks.” You sucked in as much as air as you could moments before the salty sea swallowed you up.

==============================

Johnny’s sunken ship was a fair bit more regal than you anticipated – or at least his room was. Lucky for you, a spell had been cast over it to protect landlubbers from drowning inside. Breathing water felt a bit like being stuck in a warm shower or sauna and breathing in steam, but it wasn’t painful or terribly unpleasant. That said, being stuck on a velvet throne and offered rare and exotic foods from beyond the seas certainly didn’t hurt. The Star Piece was mounted just above your head, but you couldn’t grab it as Johnny remained by your side. “Pray tell me, sweet siren, what is your name?”

“[Y/n],” you said, wondering if this was common for kidnappings, because it really didn’t mesh with the stories on the news. Plus, you were pretty sure this was a step up from what Bowser did for Peach, but you didn’t have any firsthand experience to go off of there.

“What a charming name,” he said. “I wonder how it’d sound with my last name…”

You could practically hear Goombella screaming at you to stop this. “I think we’re moving a bit fast here. Besides, I thought a sailor’s true love was the sea?”

“Ah, the sea may be my mistress, but,” he turned to you with a wink, “every sailor deserves a good man by his side too, don’t you think?” His crew cheered at this, and the history of the word “matey” suddenly came to mind. “But… you are right, my dear [Y/n]. You are clearly a gentleman of distinction, and you deserve a proper courtship.”

You did your best to not choke with laughter, considering the times you and Goombella would have all-night game sessions. Gaming in only ratty t-shirts and underwear with trash talk so crass it could peel paint along with a 36 pack of Yoshi Cola and two extra-large pizzas did not exactly strike the tone of a “gentleman of distinction.” You composed yourself before responding. “What entails a proper courtship to you then, Captain?”

He clicked his hook against his trident. Seemingly out of nowhere, his crew laid out a dining table complete with white tablecloth, bouquet, and candelabra while another crew member tuned a violin. “And, my dear, you need not address me as Captain. You’re my guest.”

As you were about to sit in the chair Johnny pulled out for you, the door splintered and tore off its hinges. Bowser stormed in, the rest of the party in tow. “OI! WHAT THE HELL?!” You looked up sheepishly. Bowser rolled his eyes. “At least look grateful we showed up!”

“I am!”

“Listen fish-face, if anyone is kidnapping people around here, it’s ME, got it?! I don’t care if that means its Peach, Mario, and especially not the nerd here!”

“Gee, thanks,” you murmured.

“If you dare to challenge me for [Y/n], you are sorely mistaken,” Johnny said, wielding his trident. “[Y/n] is his own man, he can choose who he wishes to associate with, but if you choose to demean or belittle him, you will answer to my trident!”

Bowser growled, but his usual cinders only came out as bubbles underwater. That wouldn’t stop him though, considering his claws and shell were still just as deadly. “Wait!” you shouted. Both froze and looked at you. “Johnny, listen. We came to Seaside Town, because we need to collect the Star Pieces to fix the Star Road. We’re not here to take the sea or destroy the town, or anything like Smithy wants.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did those Toads say that you were all with Smithy?”

Everyone fell quiet as everything fell into place. Peach was the first to put it to words. “Oh dammit.”

==============================

Back on the surface, the Toads were waiting as you all emerged from the sea. “Ah good, you have the Star Piece then?” One of them asked. “We’d be happy to take it for you.”

“And why would we give it to you exactly?” Geno asked, deadpan. “Considering you lied to us and to Johnny?”

“Uh…” The Toads murmured. “Oh, screw it, I’m not gonna get a promotion like this!” The Toads melted before you, reforming into a gangly machine that looked more like a stick figure in armor with a pointed head. “I, Speardovich, shall be your doom and finally Smithy will recognize my true talents! Finally, I’ll get that promotion! Now hand over that Star Piece!”

“Mood,” you muttered.

“What was that?” Peach asked.

“Nothing!”

Speardovich took a battle stance. “En garde!” Magic began to surround him as the ground began to shake and hiss. Steam spurted from the cracks below your feet.

“[Y/n]!” You fell to the ground, smothered by something big and warm. A concussive blast rocked you, but you remained unharmed. Instead, you realized your face was shoved into a large chest and pinned in by thick arms.

“…Bowser?”

“You okay?”

“…yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“…do you think you can let me go?”

“Oh, crap, right.” Bowser pulled back, letting you free from the scaly prison. “I’ll just… uh… go…”

“Yeah,” you managed. “Uh, good luck.” You backed up with Peach to leave the fighting to the pros, but you wouldn’t be so lucky. Peach grabbed you and spun you around to see a team of multicolored Toad-sized machines.

“There they are!” The red one said, trying to pose but instead tripping over his own feet and falling. The other four groaned.

“Who are you?” Peach demanded.

“Who are we?” The red one sneered. “Team, sound off! Axem Red!”

“Axem Black!”

“Axem Green!”

“Axem Pink!”

“Axem Yellow!”

“GO GO AXEM RANGERS!”

“Hey Red,” Axem Yellow asked. “Who are we grabbing again?”

“Their leader you idiot! We gotta hold them hostage!”

Axem Pink giggled. “As if any leader here could be as adorable a princess as me!”

“As if,” Peach muttered.

“Ugh, like how dare you!” Pink hissed. “You pink wannabe!” Without warning, Pink flung her axe at Peach.

“Oof!” Peach smacked into you hip first, knocking the wind out of you both. Something even hit you in the head. “Are you okay?”

You sucked down air, now understanding why the Peach Bomber was her go-to attack move in those fighting tournaments. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Enough stalling, you clowns!” Axem Red pointed. “We’re here to take the ruler of this land hostage, and that means you!”

Both you and Peach sprang to your feet, and you stepped in front of her. “No way, you can’t take the- HEY!” Suddenly you found yourself bound in ropes and lifted in the air. Something slid off your head and clinked on the ground… Peach’s crown. “Wait! I’m not the ruler!”

“Quiet you!”

“Twice in a day!!” You roared as Axem Yellow tied a gag over your mouth.

Peach ran after you, but the Axems were too quick, carrying you to their ship and blasting off towards the massive sword in Bowser’s Keep.

==============================

A/n: Ironically, I started writing this chapter before the chronic illness stuff hit again, so the Star Hill section was a bit self-indulgent.

For those of you who missed my announcement, I will be shifting to a biweekly upload schedule (Still on Fridays) until I fully recover. Also hoping to change jobs soon so that should help.

Anyway, one more chapter left in this RPG saga as you’re stolen away by Smithy’s Gang. What awaits you at Bowser’s Keep? Only time will tell.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 16. Blush

Aesop's two colleagues and oldest friends engage in their favourite activity - poking fun at the poor potions master.

chapter specific tags: friendship, teasingy established relationship, innuendos

relationships: aesop sharp & dinah hecat & abraham ronen, aesop sharp x reader

16. Blush (1.6k)

tw: suggestive themes suggested suggestively

The potions master sat down to eat his breakfast in the Great Hall. He had himself a very lovely weekend indeed, filled with romantic and erotic adventures with one very special seventh-year Ravenclaw. He had the amazing privilege to introduce her to the world of physical intimacy, and he felt fairly confident he did a good job at it, considering their mutual feeling of utmost exhaustion and contentedness by the time they disapparated from Wales back to the village of Hogsmeade. Their state of gratification was so strong in fact, they dared holding hands on their way back to the castle when they were certain nobody could see the two of them. There wasn't really anyone to see them, seeing as they entered the castle in the middle of supper time at the Great Hall.

The young woman followed him straight to his rooms, where they shared dinner brought to them by the Hogwarts house elves, and had the chance to try how Aesop’s bed compared to the one in his ‘aunt’s’ summer house. She slipped away under the Disillusionment charm in the morning, leaving Aesop with her sweet scent lingering upon his sheets and pillows. He couldn’t wait for her to finish Hogwarts frankly, couldn’t wait to be able to wake up next to her every morning, share breakfast on their own terms, and only then part for the day. Though this part will forever be done most reluctantly, Aesop supposed.

Still, as he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, he had to admit his spirits were higher than they were in a long time. Even his leg didn’t hurt as bad - he barely felt any pain in fact, and he only did when he was walking. Sitting or lying down, it felt almost as if he was never cursed at all. It was very strange, it hadn’t felt this painless since… Well, since before that horrible day at the end of January, so many years ago…

Shaking off his thoughts for the time being, he reached before himself to take hold of a toast, and actually whistled as he slowly spread orange marmalade over it. “Ah, there you are! Didn't notice you come back yesterday,” came Dinah’s voice from beside him as the DADA professor slid down into the chair next to his, her voice uncomfortably smug “though I suppose I wouldn’t have, you must’ve slipped into your chambers immediately, completely exhausted from all the physical strain.”

Aesop swallowed his bite, his eyes looking off into the distance unwilling to connect with those of his friend: “What exactly do you mean, Di?” “Why, you two spent the better part of almost three days walking around the woods, and I know how uneven surfaces can be a problem for you,” she explained inconspicuously, reaching out to add some scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes into her plate. “Did you use protection?” she asked then, and Aesop very nearly choked on his food.

“What?!” he whisper-shouted, eyes wild. Still he wouldn’t look at the woman next to him, instead becoming very very interested in the wall opposite of him, his hand nearly crushing his toast. He knew that was she to look in his eyes, she’d know instantly. “I mean, I’ve never been particularly interested in Herbology, but I remember some of the plants you were meant to get are quite poisonous and require the use of gloves. Though, as I see no skin irritation, I suppose the question sort of answers itself, doesn’t it?”

Aesop didn’t grace her with an answer, and instead tried to eat what remained of his breakfast as fast as possible, feeling flush begin to enter his cheeks. Dinah seemed to be happily enjoying her food for several minutes, unconsciously tapping her fork against one of the tomatoes on her plate while her eyes skimmed through the Daily prophet, until: “How’s your back?”

“How would my back be?” Aesop replied, voice dull and quiet. He tried to make a plan to get out of the situation, but a part of him knew that not engaging Dinah in conversation was as good as coming clean that this ‘herb-picking expedition’, as his sweetheart called it, was so much more than that... “Well, I do hope you were a gentleman and let her have the bed. And you know how your back gets when you don’t sleep somewhere comfortable,” her voice was the essence of absolute innocence. More blood poured into Aesop’s cheeks as he attempted to answer as calmly and normally as he could: “My back is completely fine, thank you for your concern.”

It seemed the DADA teacher was all done with her innuendos for the time being, and Aesop finally heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re back my friend!” Aesop tensed instantly. Abraham and Dinah’s favourite activity was poking fun at him whenever they could (all in good fun, of course), and it certainly felt like the older man appearing like he did to engage him in such a jovial sounding conversation was not a coincidence… That is, Abraham was always very jovial, but Aesop’s was already so strung up from Dinah’s previous words, he couldn’t help feeling suspicious.

“So, how did the deflowering go?”

Aesop almost suffocated on his breakfast for the second time. As soon as the tea was safely on its way to his stomach rather than his lungs, he turned to the Charms professor swiftly: “What the fuck, Abraham?!”

The older man looked taken aback by the little outburst, but didn’t lose the friendly look on his face: “Well, you spent the weekend collecting all sorts of magical flowers and herbs, didn’t you? Though, I do admit, the term might have sounded slightly misleading, and I apologise for that. Of course there wouldn’t be any other kind of deflowering going on, would there?”

“Precisely!” the potions master said rather loudly, accidentally attracting the attention of some of his other colleagues. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice once more: “Listen, I don’t care what the two of you are playing at, but I’d be very grateful if you let me eat my breakfast and go prepare for my classes today in peace.”

After a couple of completely unapologetic apologies, Aesop felt stable enough to return to his meal. If he wasn’t as hungry as he was after the passionate night, not to mention unwilling to look like he was fleeing from the two, he would’ve risen and left long ago…

“So, did you show her the road to heaven?” Dinah asked then.

Aesop’s cup shattered in his hold. Luckily he had just finished drinking his tea, so there was no liquid left to spill onto his robes. The sound of the ceramic breaking wasn’t loud enough to attract the attention of his fellow teachers again, but his two closest friends definitely raised their eyebrows at his reaction.

Not that Aesop saw them - no, he was looking down at his empty plate, feeling his face turning impossibly hot, and knowing he was red as a salamander. “I of course meant the trail towards the waterfalls near one of the mines, you always called it ‘the road to heaven’,” Dinah clarified, watching for his reaction. The potions master gave none, but simply rose from his chair and walked off without a word. Rather swiftly too, but without breaking into a full run. The DADA teacher couldn’t stop the chuckles from leaving her lips as Aesop Sharp left the Great Hall.

“Did we overdo it?” asked Abraham then, sounding mildly concerned. His colleague merely shrugged her shoulders: “Serves him right for thinking he’s so slick. It’s been more than three months, if he just manned up finally and told us, I’d leave him alone… Well, I would not, but I’d tone it down a little. Besides, he'll live. Since when does a former Auror let some teasing rile him up this much; he’ll simply drag his young eagle into his chambers, and she’ll rid him of all frustrations, I’m sure.”

—

Aesop Sharp sat in his office, face still red in embarrassment. What was going on with him? Normally, he was able to take all of his friends’ teasing on the chin and reply in kind, but this morning it was impossible to do. Why? Was it because they were right in their insinuations? Because while it truly was just innocent teasing on their part, for Aesop it was very much real? Or did they actually know? He sighed, and put his head into his hands.

A knock came upon his door, prompting him to groan. Class was not due for another 30 minutes at least! “Enter,” he said anyway, not lifting his head up. The door opened. “Aesop?” came the sweetest voice in the world, and the potions master immediately raised his head to look at the woman standing on the threshold of his office. “Is everything alright?” She sounded terribly worried. Aesop couldn’t help but smile at her, her concern touching him. “It’s alright, I promise. I didn’t see you at breakfast?” he said quietly, extending his hands towards her, and she instantly took them. He pulled her closer, now noticing she was carrying a piece of parchment in her hand.

“I was a little late, had a long night…” her eyes twinkled happily with a hint of mischief, “I was just on my way to Herbology, when professor Hecat asked me to go give this to you.” The potions master swallowed audibly, but nevertheless took the letter from her hand. He braced himself mentally before unrolling it. Next thing he knew, he was smiling at the words that stood against the white parchment.

“Good news?” his young lover asked hopefully, her fingers stroking his shoulders. Aesop’s hands reached her waist, and he pulled the Ravenclaw in for a kiss, the letter ending up somewhere on his desk.

Only a few simple words were written on it.

‘We’re happy for both of you. - D & A’

---

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[mushgloomz]

a reflection

this is just some self indulgent, personal waffle - got some ptsd and shit scattered in there so pls don’t feel obliged to read; just getting some shit off my chest :)

on the 22nd of April 2024, i woke up in the morning with a pain in my left shoulder and the muscle connecting the same shoulder to my neck.

it was a weird sort of pain - sharp, not a muscle ache, almost nerve-related. i figured i had slept funny; pinched a nerve or something.

the pain persisted the entire day, uncomfortable but not debilitating. by the evening, there was a pain deep in my sternum too - this pressing, burning sensation that made me catch my breath.

i went to sleep that night.

woke up the next morning, the pain was worse. it had spread along my bottom rib on the left side of my body too - the kind of pain that makes you whine randomly throughout the day; unable to ignore it or distract yourself. my mum reckoned it was anxiety.

when i woke up the third day, the pain was gone - almost as if it hadn’t been there at all in the first place. guess i would’ve been relieved if it wasn’t for this horrific, deep-rooted sense of dread that had taken its place.

honestly, i’ve never felt anything like it. to feel physically okay, whilst experiencing what I could only describe as an increasing sense of impending doom, was disorienting at best.

i spent that day, alone in manchester, my entire family in the south of the country, calling people. i called my gp three separate times. called 4 separate chemists. i even called 111 (the UK non-emergency medical number).

anxiety.

muscle strain.

trapped nerve.

those were the only diagnoses suggested to me. they’d still my mind for all of five minutes before the dread came back. as the evening rolled around, i found that i was in pain again - centred around my left ribs and my sternum; crushing this time.

i called my mum that night, told her how I had been feeling the entire day. she was patient; did everything she knew usually calmed me down when i was overwhelmed, but to no avail.

around 11pm, she told me she had to go to sleep because she had work the next morning - i burst into tears because, and i quote, ‘i’m scared i’m going to die in my sleep’.

half-jokingly, she told me to get an uber to A&E if it was upsetting me that much. so i did.

by 11:30pm, i was being seen by a triage nurse, who took my oxygen levels, my pulse, my blood pressure, and my bloods.

my pulse was 158bpm at rest. my blood pressure was through the roof. my oxygen saturation had dropped to 87%.

i was moved to a different waiting room at midnight. 4 hours passed before a doctor saw me. she listened to my heart with a stethoscope; pressed along my ribs.

‘it’s likely a combination of muscle inflammation and anxiety. we need to wait for one more blood test result, but you can probably go home after that.’

another 3 hours passed in the waiting room. i was now the only person in there.

all of a sudden, a nurse came running down the corridor. i mean, full-blown sprinting. he looked at me, asked my name, and then said ‘follow me, i need to give you an injection’.

i was taken to a small room, told to lay on the bed and roll my tshirt up so he could get to my stomach. i asked what it was as he injected me.

blood thinners.

as soon as i was out of the side room, the doctor i had seen before also came running at me, beckoning me over and taking me into another separate room.

‘so, we’ve done a blood test called a d-dimer on you - it tests for severe inflammation in the body, more specifically, the presence of blood clots. your results are 8 times higher than the cut-off for no intervention. i’m sending you for an x-ray, and then you need to go to the ambulatory care unit so they can book you in for a scan.’

it was weird - everything sounded so serious, yet I still had no fucking clue what was going on.

after my chest x ray, i made my way to the ACU. i waited for it to open at 9am, and then was hooked up to a heparin drip in a hospital bed whilst they scheduled me for something called a V/Q scan.

i fell asleep, and was woken up at 2pm by a doctor who said my scan was ready to take place.

i walked to the unit, where they made me inhale a radioactive gas, before setting me up at the V/Q machine.

this is a VQ scanner. for 30 minutes, this giant fucking machine rotated around me no more than a few centimeters from my body. then, a nurse came and gave me an injection of a radioactive contrast dye. another 30 minutes of scanning ensued.

i went back to the ACU after my scan, back to my hospital bed, and fell asleep again.

i woke up at 5pm to a doctor patting my arm gently. she spoke quietly, real soft and gentle.

‘hi sweetheart - sorry to wake you. we’ve had your results back, and it’s shown something. do you know what a pulmonary embolism is?’

i shook my head - I’d heard of them, but didn’t really know. she explained that in the scan, my results had shown that both my left and right lungs were filled with several blood clots.

she then told me that if i had left it another 12 or so hours, my heart would have given out because of the strain. that I wouldn’t have woken up in the morning.

this was the indication of my clots. the red bits are, naturally, meant to signify blood clots. the bottom half of my left lung had been without sufficient oxygen for so long that the tissue had started to die.

this was me in the hospital bed, lowkey just shell-shocked. i had to call my family and explain everything to them. ignore how busted i looked (i was quite literally dying okay).

since that day, i’ve been told that i have damage to the valves of my heart. half of my left lung is dead and will never recover. i have intense and extensive scarring in the veins of my lungs. i was told i have medical-trauma induced fibromyalgia.

so what now?

recovery was fucking HARD. i’m still ‘recovering’, and probably will for the rest of my life. i take blood thinning tablets every single day, twice a day, to stop me from dying. my mental health crashed, and for a hot minute, i thought i regretted not just going to sleep that night.

but now, i’m doing okay - more than okay, actually.

i have spent the past year living. really, truly, grabbing life by the balls and just doing everything for me.

i still hurt. my lungs will never be the same. but things I ‘couldn’t be bothered to do’ for myself are now part of my routine - i go out by myself if people aren’t interested; i put myself out here on tumblr again and found a delicious little community of freakazoids (affectionate) to relish in pedro pascal goodness with.

i’ve made new friends - online and irl. i’ve done things i would never have dreamed of doing alone, but have always wanted to do; like going to the premiere of tlou in london, or becoming a member of the British film institute.

i’m living for me, and it feels really good.

this was me less than a week ago. a year ago, i couldn’t walk halfway up a flight of stairs without taking a break because my lungs were causing me so much pain. last week, i went to London to get my haircut by myself, looked cute as fuck whilst doing it, and even though i was breathless and tired and hurting after, i felt good.

i’m really proud of myself.